One of my girls at school needed to take her test at my desk today. The other 15 places to sit in my classroom simply wouldn’t suffice. While she was at it, she made herself right at home. As she sat at my desk she ate my pretzels, used my hair brush, tapped around on my computer, noticed my Pandora was open, and created herself a new radio station on my account. Why not? When I busted her, I pretended to be mad. Like all my ‘kids’, she knows I (mostly) pretend to be mad at them. Disappointed is all-together different. Mad? Well, that almost always just doesn’t happen. First of all, these spicy monkeys keep Momma’s heart beating. Secondly, they need more love than most others in the world. Moreover, they deserve even more love than they need. And like I said…they keep my heart beating.
It’s going on 5:40 p.m., and I’m still at school. As you already know, Momma need not rush off to the gym, or to the grocery store in order to be home in time to let Lucas out and/or to make dinner….much less to pick you up from day care, get you fed, bathed, and ready for bed in time to snuggle up and read a bed-time story – or three, before tucking you in for a peaceful night’s sleep. Instead, I take my time perfecting innocuous tasks, before aimlessly venturing down familiar hallways, through familiar doors, to a familiar parking spot – straight into an unfamiliar life.
As I contemplated whether I would go to the gym, or just run extra-long when I got home, concurrently further avoiding the transition into a new life I never wanted, a song began to play through my SMART Board. Instantly entranced by the lyrics, I closed the 38 windows I had open so I could see the name of the song and artist. (No. I didn’t do what normally functioning people do, and save the work which I was perseverating over perfecting in the first place. It’s fine. I’ll try again tomorrow.)
The tears which fell from my eyes have already left salt-marked stains on my completely lame, but also completely free, GO ARMY! desk calendar. I instinctively know they will serve as an unlikely source of comfort in the upcoming weeks. As I will recall this moment with heightened precision. For it is one of those rare times…that I know you are with me.
Thank you for helping my spicy monkeys love me. Thank you for helping them embrace my broken spirit, my shattered heart, and my many, many flaws. They are of your most brilliant and treasured gifts yet. Thank you for sending me this song – compliments of the spicy ones, who take the liberty to high-jack my Pandora account, much like they have taken the liberty to high-jack my heart…because they know damn well, it’s the only way in anymore.
Here is your lullaby for tonight. It’s from Momma…and one of her spiciest monkeys.
My arms should’ve been fierce enough to have kept you safe.
Stay with me, Sweet Boy.