Tag Archives: mom

Losing My Identity


At one time, I was Teen Mom to a beautiful, brown-eyed, curly haired little boy.  He changed my whole world and showed me a love that I didn’t know existed inside my young, calloused heart.  He constantly wanted to be in my arms, which was quite okay with me.

Then, I was New Mom to a second precious, brown-eyed little boy.  How my heart didn’t explode from an overflowing love, I’ll never know.  He, too, wanted nothing more than to snuggle on my chest and would cry when I put him down.

I soon became Mommy to these two rambunctious balls of energy.  In fact, that was every other word out of their mouths.  Oh, how they needed me for everything – pouring cereal, tying shoes, reaching the top shelf in their closets to pull down their favorite teddy bears.

Then, as they started school, I was Momma.  But even with my change of title, they still needed me.  At this point, they were impressed with my knowledge of times tables and the water cycle.  They were both so proud to show me off to their friends as they held my hand tightly down the hallway to their classrooms.

Only a few years later, I got another title change to Mom.  I may have still been able to help with homework, but other than that, my knowledge base started to decrease.  I became much like a banker, wherein I was really only needed to fund whatever outing was planned without me.  At least I still got hugs and kisses after our bedtime prayers.

Now, as my youngest brown-eyed baby enters middle school, my label has been shortened to only Ma.  I’m not allowed in the school anymore, except for awards ceremonies and conferences.  I know that tomorrow, as I drop them off outside the school doors for the start of another school year, I’ll be lucky to even get a sideways glance, much less that hug or kiss that keeps me going.

Photo by Leslie Dobbe Photography

Photo by Leslie Dobbe Photography

Who will I be now?  Who am I if I’m not needed anymore?  What is left of me?

As I slowly lose my boys to life, I realize that I’m also losing myself.

 

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A Girl’s First Love


She stared out the window, hoping to see his headlights.  But all she saw was darkness.

She replayed the argument he had with her mom in her head.  Although it took place days before, she had it memorized – branded in her heart.

She could remember how her mom was barely understandable because she couldn’t catch her breath through her sobs.  She could still hear him yelling.  She wasn’t good enough.  She wasn’t pretty anymore.

Certainly she didn’t hear that last part correctly.  Her mom was beautiful, with silky chestnut hair and one strand that she always tucked behind her ear.  Even when it was already there.

As she looked at the swaying trees through her window, she jumped as she remembered hearing the door slam.  I don’t love you anymore.  I’m leaving. 

She remembered waiting to hear the door open again.  To hear him say he was sorry for yelling, like he usually did.  Instead, all she heard that night was Mom crying.  She wanted to go to her, but wasn’t sure what to say.

What if Mom wouldn’t forgive her for being a selfish brat, always worried only about herself?

Scared that Mom would hate her and he would never come back, she picked up her favorite bear from inside the box in her closet.  The one with the eye that was hanging on only by a thread.

It’d been so long since she’d pulled it out of the box.  As she rubbed its nose, she closed her eyes and remembered the day he brought him home to her.  She’d been in third grade.  She’d just gotten off the bus when he surprised her with it.  She slept with him until his seams began unraveling.  Little did she know then, that it was the perfect metaphor for her life.

She still had her eyes closed, trapped in 1988, when she heard a car coming.  She opened her eyes immediately and saw the glow of lights through the trees.  He’s back!  I knew he’d come back!

But then the lights disappeared.  The car must’ve turned onto another street.  More darkness.

She wondered what her mom was doing downstairs.  Like that fateful night, she thought about going down to her, talking to her.  But she remembered the argument they had just this morning.  Mom was worried about her.  Only she didn’t just tell her mom not to worry, that she was worried for nothing.  No.  Instead, she yelled at her and told her to mind her own business.  She didn’t need to worry.  What did she know about her anyway?  She couldn’t even keep her marriage together.  Why was she worrying about her daughter who she knew nothing about?

She sighed.  Why was she blaming Mom for his leaving?  Nothing she did would have ever been enough to keep a man around who was already insistent upon leaving.

Why was it that she missed him so much it hurt, but when it came to Mom, who really was the only one she could always count on, she was still a conniving little witch?  As much as she hated to admit it, she had always wanted nothing more than to be his little girl.

Now she wanted nothing more than to believe that it was Mom’s fault that he left.  But she knew better.

And she also knew deep down that he was never coming back.

Oh, how she wished that he would realize the truth, too.  She wished with all of her aching heart that he would see what she really needed:

Her Daddy.

Source: we heart it

Source: we heart it


“Yeah, well. I don’t try to be awesome. It just comes natural.” ~Rick Riordan


Let me start off by saying that I hate love ArdenDamn Thank you, Arden.  Thank you so much for giving me the ABC Award!  According to my stats page, I don’t deserve this award, which leads me to believe that you really just want to watch me shifting and writhing uncomfortably in my chair all day as I try to respond to my nomination.  Yep.  That sounds about right.

Here are the rules to this award:

1. Add the ABC Award to your new post.

ABC Award

2. A-B-C about yourself using one word or phrase.  (No, you cannot leave out ‘Q’ or ‘X’)

3. Nominate however many blogs you’d like to receive this award.

4. Let the recipients you’ve chosen know via a link in their comments section of their blogs.

And now, let my misery begin…

Anal.  [I think you’ve already figured this out about me.]

B-e-a-utiful.  [Not really, but I love saying that.]

Candid.  [Arden knows this firsthand.]

Dookie fresh.

Excellent.

Frisky.

Ghostly.  [I need Charleston to feel like Charleston now, please.  It’s May.  I need a tan.]

Honest.  [Brutally so.]

Impatient.  [And Intimidating.]

Jealous.  [Of everyone who has more than 66 followers.  Pathetic.]

Knee-deep.  [In crap I don’t want to deal with today.]

Left-handed.

Mom.  [I don’t even know my real name anymore.]

Nauseous.  [I have the stomach flu at the moment.  Don’t worry, Arden… I won’t discuss poop.]

Overweightphobic.  [Also known as cacomorphobic.]

Political.  [Don’t get me started.]

Quite certain I’m capable of murder.

Realistic.  [Some like to call is pessimistic.  I would beg to differ.]

Sarcastic.  [Literally all the time.]

Traffic snob.  [If it’s more than 15 minutes away, I’m not going.]

Uncompromising.

Vexed.  [Anyone who reads my blog knows that this is pretty often.]

Wanting.  [I need want a vacation and a million dollars.]

X-wife.  [I wear that badge proudly.]

Yeller.  [I can admit it.  Maybe no one heard me the first time.  Maybe.]

Zealous.  [About several issues.  Again, don’t get me started…]

And no, without further adieu, my nominees for the ABC Award are:

Marriage, Motherhood and Madness.  Mia is hilarious, and she blogs for the same reason I do: to get some time to herself!  (She’s also the real Slim Shady, by the way.)

Ben’s Bitter Blog.  While he, too, is hilarious (and tall), he’s also jealous that Arden nominated me for the award.  Stop being bitter, Ben.  Now it’s your turn.


Tiffany Kleiman ~ Author

“I don’t care if a reader hates one of my stories, just as long as s/he finishes the book.” ~ Roald Dahl, WD

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