love

Family

~ refusetosink2016

I remember when I learned the right way to throw a football.  I wasn’t a kid.  I was a mom.  I was a mom who really hadn’t spent much time in my life ever thinking it would matter if I could spiral a football through the air.  Suddenly, back in that moment, it mattered to someone much more important than me.  It mattered to the sweetest six year old boy in the world.  It mattered to my son.  His dad had passed away the year before.  His dad had coached every sport he had played.  His dad knew how to spiral a football.  I had run three marathons and was great at tennis.  However, throwing a football was not on my resume.  But, here I was now, single mama to four,  including the one who had spent the previous night crying when I tucked him into his bed.  I had signed him up for flag football.  He was so excited when it was time to get out there and play.  I watched as each kid lined up facing another kid.  They began to throw footballs back and forth to each other.  As my son struggled, an innocent little kid next to him said, “Don’t worry, you’ll get it.  Just go home and practice with your dad.”  That evening broke me in a way I never thought possible, but it also motivated me.  My son, upset he didn’t know how to throw a football, and even more upset his dad couldn’t teach him, lit a fire inside of me.  It was only me.  I was it.  I had no choice.  I practiced alongside him.  We threw a football back and forth in the yard, even when my energy from the day was long gone.  Throwing a football was only one thing that I learned to do because I saw no other choice.  When your kids need you, you step it up.  I spent a lot of time in those first few years as a single mom thinking how much easier it would be with a man to help with these things and to be a role model for my boys.  What I didn’t understand then was that a man wasn’t what we needed.  I didn’t realize that I was enough.

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From The Middle-Aged Mom Diaries: Can we please do less?

~ refusetosink2016

When my youngest was a baby, about 20 years ago, I got food poisoning.  I remember what I ate, where I ate it, and the moment, a few hours after dinner, when it took hold of me.  It was absolutely horrible.  I was married to my late husband at the time.  He went to work the next day.  I stayed home so sick I couldn’t move from the bathroom, alone with a one year old.  Thank God for my dad.  He was older and relied on an oxygen tank, but still was there to help tame a new walker who was into everything.  I was sick for five days.  My husband went to work every single one of those days.  Am I trying to throw my late husband under the bus when he can’t defend himself?  No.  To be quite honest, we come from a society where this behavior for decades has been deemed “normal”.  He was raised this way.  Should he have un-learned this behavior?  Well, that would have been great, of course.  So maybe, I guess, in a way, I am calling him out.  If he was sick, he took a day off and stayed in bed.  If I was sick, I took care of kids and had to ask my aging father for help when I really got in a bind.  This is all true.  However, if I am calling him out, I am not calling him out alone.  This is the society that we grew up in, a society that is slowly changing, thank God.  I see that in many ways.  However, after years of being conditioned to do it all, how and when do we, as moms, finally learn to do less? 

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