Big gulp

May 29th, 2008

I’m looking out the window
for my baby to come home
because today she left without me
while I stayed behind and mopped up:
the floor, the walls, the ceiling,
the stickiness of me

I’m looking out the window
for my baby to come home
because today I spilled over,
supersized with my own wonderfulness
when I asked, “Want some Coke?”
(Which I never do, you see, since Mommy says it makes kids stop growing
and that settles that.)
I poured this one-time specialness over ice in a cup,
toasting my good-motherness,
our happy-togetherness,
handed it to her
and instantly it spilled,
emptied over homework and folder,
onto table and chair,
soaking the Crate and Barrel rug.

The poison rose in me like foam over a tumbler
streaming down the sides
puddling on the counter
my long tongue lashing out the blame
lathering the shame
my arms and legs erupting
in a crazy-lady dance
saving wet pages
wet carpet
letting her wet face dry by itself.

How awful, how inane, over a pause that refreshes?
Sugar water and dye.
I’ve had my pause. I’ve died.

I’m sick and sad and sorry to be
looking out the window
for my baby to come home
Standing alone
where I can catch the first gleam
It’s what moms do
we do it forever
even before we are moms.

The waiting is worth it.

* * *

For Denise. In fullness. Of time.


  1. standing with you side by side,
    heart by heart.

    i hear you…and am holding the space you shared with us here.

    “we do it forever…even before we are moms.

    the waiting is worth it.”

    grateful tears spilling.
    thank you for this gift.

    heart opening,

    Comment by Boho Girl — May 29, 2008 @ 3:50 am

  2. No words. Just with you.

    Comment by Shelli — May 29, 2008 @ 12:25 pm

  3. oh that dreadful poison. if i could do anything to rid myself of that forever, i would. i just hope that the times when it gets the better of me are truly forgiven when i swallow my pride and apologize. apologize to the wee little men that look up to me for everything. apologize for being imperfect and human and fallible. and they hug me and tell me they love me and i tell them i love them. i hope they know that it’s genuine. the love and sorrow and regret.

    Comment by Sarah — May 29, 2008 @ 12:40 pm

  4. big deep breath in

    big deep breath out

    remembering this with you

    holding on and

    letting go

    Comment by Terri — May 29, 2008 @ 3:01 pm

  5. Truly, the waiting is worth it!!

    Comment by Catherine — May 29, 2008 @ 4:07 pm

  6. I pray that your reunion went well. That hugs and kisses were shared. That you have been forgiven and have forgiven yourself.

    Peace to you.

    Comment by GailNHB — May 29, 2008 @ 8:56 pm

  7. The never understood the true value of saying I’m sorry until my daughters were born. To know that you, too, get this poison inside makes me feel so much better. Especially right now when this stage is getting to me. Hugs to you; Hugs to Gigi. Poor girl may never want Coke again. (Hmm. Not bad, Mama!) ; )

    Comment by Shawn — May 30, 2008 @ 12:53 am

  8. I keep reading this over and over – it resonates with me so clearly. I know that feeling, we all do. It’s that part of motherhood that no one could prepare you for – that sick, sad and sorry feeling that we all share – all of us collectively.

    I do hope that the feeling is lifting with reunion and time, like that feeling one has when they wake from a good nights sleep with new perspective.

    I keep reminding myself of the “sole of the shoe” metaphor. That was such a good one…

    You are marvelous and that entry heals me…

    Comment by Anonymous — May 30, 2008 @ 2:37 am

  9. this opens my heart just a little wider.
    thank-you for sharing this vulnerable piece of you.

    Comment by bella — May 30, 2008 @ 2:38 am

  10. Tears run down my cheeks. Thank you for being so honest. I too have spilled poison then waited. We are not alone.

    Comment by jenlee — June 2, 2008 @ 4:16 pm

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