Scott wouldn't be home for another hour. And I was having a bad day. It had been building for awhile, the culmination of a series of events and reminders that the absolute worst thing that could happen to a parent did, in fact, happen to me.
So there I lay. Lie? I don't know. I used to be an English teacher and I can't even figure that one out. I'm claiming grief's fog on this one. Whatever.
So there I lay, a crumpled mess in front of the fridge when -
"Mom," Isaac yelled. "I can't even hear the TV!"
That should've snapped me back into reality (or at least into the same time zone). But, it didn't.
Picture the crumpled mess making her way - on all fours - to Addie's bedroom.
Safe. Secure. But still sobbing.
"Mom," Tripp said as he opened the door. "Who's gonna put milk in my sippie cup?"
Who is going to put milk in the sippie cup? Do the laundry. Make supper. Brush teeth.
Oh yeah. Us.
Even though we failed miserably in the early weeks (butter sandwiches, cereal, and applesauce for supper) and had a ton of help early on, it was ultimately up to us to make sure the needs of our two little boys were somewhat met.
After all, Scott and I had made a pact in the hospital in the hours after Addie's death. I think of it often.
Even though our lives our ruined, it doesn't mean Isaac and Tripp's need to be too.
|All dressed up for Isaac's preschool program.|
So, what do little boys need?
Love. Lots of it. That's something we've been more than happy to give. And receive.
Answers. Let's face it. There have been a lot of questions and we try to give the best answers we can. Just today, Isaac asked me if I thought cancer was in the basement. I guess that's a valid question since that's where the monsters hang out (according to the boys). And when we don't know the answers we give them the next best thing: honesty.
Food. Shelter. A limit on TV time.
Whatever they're lacking in the way of nutrition at our house, I'm confident they're getting at daycare and grandma's. They still have a roof over their heads. The house may not be in full, organized order, but was it ever? We've cut back considerably on TV in the past few months, which means I've had to force myself to be a mom and come up with alternatives (no matter how hard it may be).
And so, we color. Make forts. And a stage for a puppet show. Heaven forbid I don't put the stage in the exact place Addie used to. We dress up. Play with the farm animals and action figures. We wrestle. We wrestle a lot.
|Earlier this summer, the kittens were a source of entertainment.|
We venture out. To the park. The Children's Museum. A movie. And today, the dinosaur museum in Milford. I'm not going to lie. Sometimes this putting one foot in front of the other hurts.
But you're the mom.
Or the dad.
And you do it anyway.