When your tail is ripped off…

iguana8
The plan was, just don’t open the door.  Isn’t that how it goes? Lights off, no one will knock, but if they do, just don’t open the door.  But then I heard my little panther “Dis is my mommy’s house” and I had to answer.  I didn’t even have a piece of candy to give my little panther because all along, the plan was, just don’t open the door.
My therapist says it’s ok for everything to still hurt. All. The. Time.  He also says it’s ok for me to drink wine and that sometimes I should just go to a hotel and order room service and sleep all day.  I really like him.
You read about this feeling of instrumental loss when you get divorced.  It is equated to a death.  Part of you literally dies inside.  Years later I am trying to figure out if I will ever get that part back….. You know, like an iguana tail that grows back….. I don’t know if mine will or if it just died.
My therapist says everyone must think I am always fine, because I laugh about my life, I am honest about it, I just push through it, but there are still days I end up on the floor, crying, wondering who the fuck I pissed off to get here.
Sometimes, I still look at my wedding rings, and think about when we bought our first house, or our second house, or our first apartment. 15 years of it and my entire plan was “Just don’t open the door.” More times than not, I wonder if I will ever move on, or even go on a real date, or if my tail will grow back.
I tell myself all the time that someone had to move on first…. I am generally use to being the first one to get shit accomplished, so maybe that is why it is so hard, but I suspect it is something different.
I joke about it, but the reality is, in comparison, I have it pretty good.  When one of the minis pukes and shits at the same time (or, not at the same time) the first person I text is the former Mr. Nara. I wondered with him just yesterday, how it will be when our oldest (slightly vain, already enjoying excessively long showers) hits puberty. I think likely, because when your tail is ripped off, you go back to what you know. But I think too, that because when someone is shitting and puking at the same time, only the other 1/2 of what created that disgusting mess understands.
I am lucky in comparison, but nothing eases the pain of your tail being ripped off other than time.  At least that is what my therapist says.  Sort of.
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And just like that, six….

My sweet peanut, this is your day. You have patiently waited 364 days to get here. You have told Biggie and I every day that “Ugh, it is takin fovea to be six.” You finally made it. We have spent so much time talking about your party (gymnastics, obvi) and who will go. And you say it so gently “Mom, do I still have fwiends? Because, mom, I go to a new school now.” (you know, like in case I was not aware). We have talked extensively about what snacks will be served at this glorious event (pretzels, apple sauce and cheese sticks). No one loves their birthday as much as you do.

Every year, every single year pee wee, I tell you, Biggie started our family, and you completed it. And still, even in this last year, with so much that has changed, that still remains the same. You complete our mini-tripod. When my heart broke, it is as though you both took one piece and put it back together.

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My heart….

 

You are our old soul. Just so sweet and kind in spirit. When I remind you all the time to tell me that I am a beautiful princess, you say “But momma, where is your crown hat?” When I tell you that I lost it, or left it at work, you say “Oh momma, I will get you one den.”

You love with your full heart. Every day when I pick you up, you run into my arms, and we race to the car (you somehow win every day) and then we hold hands. Every day.

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You even say “Time for me to run into your arms.”

 

Every night, when we put you to bed, you ask for brother and I to sleep in your room, not because you are scared, or want a sleep over, but because you “don’t like to be away from us too long.”

Every morning, when I lay in bed with you, you say “Momma, you seep in my bed all night, we so cozy.” Then you suck on your boo boo. I could do without that part.

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You are our creature of habit. Same breakfast every morning (banana muffins, apple slices and “cold lellow apple juice”). Same lunch every day (cheese and square “quackers” fruit, gummies). And every night when we get home, you need to relax for a minute with a “cow milk.” You are such a creature of habit, that when we went to Disney this year, you and I rode Dumbo. 14 times in a row.

dumbo
Oh I know, for something new, let’s go on Dumbo.

 

You LOVE helping.   I was painting a cabinet for your play room last week, when you asked if you could help. You sat down with me in the driveway and after painting for a minute or two said “Momma, when do we go get coffee? Like workers do. They get coffee.”

You tattle. The other day, you said “Mom, daddy gives me somefin I yike to drink, and it is lellow.” To which I said “Apple juice?” And you said “No, soda, and daddy says no tellin mommy, so I didn’t.”

You love your brother SO much.  I am so lucky to have these two boys, who are so different, yet so alike.  You miss him when he is gone.  And by “gone” I mean, when he goes poop, you go with him.

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You are obsessed with your brother. 

 

You are fresh. In fact, Biggie and I call you “baby fresh butt.” This weekend, you saw that I was walking around looking for something, and said “Momma, what you doing?” I told you that I was looking for Quinn’s blankie, to which you said “Oh, I frew that in da trash, hold my hand and I can take you to it.” So. Matter. Of. Fact.

You are so strong willed. If you don’t get what you want, you will say “Fine, den I goin to bed!” hashtag winning.

You are SO silly. This year, the Y had a “Doggy pool day” there must have been 25 dogs swimming in the pool, and you.

silly
All aspects of your life include a dance party.

 

 

You are SO confident in who you are. Let me re-phrase that, you are so comfortable in who you are being naked.  I never thought I would say things like “Dude, put your ding dong away.” so.very.much.

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You wanted to walk down the street nude, the comprise was undies.  Because I am a really good parent.

 

You think you are 25 years old. This summer, after seeing Biggie go tubing once in Maine, you decided that not only would you be doing that, but that you didn’t need an adult. Your papa and I spent a solid day worrying about it, when you just jumped on the tube from the dock and yelled “Hit it, and turn up the speed for dis guy.” True. Fucking. Story.

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Hit it.

 

You amaze and scare me at the same time. You are so determined. You don’t give up when anyone else would have.  And when you are working, you say “I got dis.”

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Half size. Full Swag. Always.

 

Every day, I worry… Am I enough for you and Biggie? Can me, this one person, do this alone? Raise two boys. Alone. And every day, you both remind me,  I can, because you do it with me. You have taught more in six short years than I can ever teach you. I have these times that in my heart, you and biggie have always been with me. I don’t remember a day that you were not there.

Biggie and I are so excited to celebrate six with you.  Your favorite toys (guys) and your favorite food (pizza, circle kind, that “Da guy brings to da door.”). Happy six my sweet love.