Blending On

This year Mother’s Day morning was also shared with my husbands birthday so instead of the  bustle of breakfast in bed served by sticky fingers, I got up early to make confetti pancakes & give him some much deserved sleep. Not to mention I was able to sleep in until ten the previous day, after managing to coordinate a kid free night for us. Happy girls  finish scraping the last bits  of syrup from their plates before taking off to grab their presents they have been bursting with excitement to pass out... Bags filled with handmade  cards covered in thoughtfully written declarations of love for their daddy. Then it was my turn to be showered by their creations... Hand made crafts from school by my daughter with “mom” on the front and I could tell she had tried her hardest for me...next was my step daughter who proudly handed me a bag decorated all over with hearts and flowers. The word “mom” written on top and for a second I hope that she wasn’t torn in having to decide who  to give

It starts like any other day. Wake up to a good morning sung by a blissful 6 year old, who proclaims it's morning because a ray of sun has peeked in through the curtains. Its 6 AM. By now the baby, who unintentionally co-sleeps with us, has awoken from the bustle of feet and dogs stirring and believes it is morning too. So we get up. Coffee brewing, frozen waffles plopped into a toaster oven that could really use a good cleaning, but the crumbs on the floor remind me that I will be lucky to get laundry and vacuuming done today. Ambition silenced I hand coffee to my husband who is off to work then get my 6 year old on the bus. It is in the moments after that chaos that the house settles into a quiet calm. Dogs lay down for their mid-morning nap and I take a moment to drink the coffee that has been waiting for me for two hours. The baby explores the living room, scurrying into unknown corners and cabinets. After some adventuring the baby goes down for her nap leaving me alone with my

You know who you are. The man who has an excuse for everything wrong in his life. The man who blames everyone but himself for his problems.  I used to feel guilty that I ever knew you. That I made poor choices and ended up pregnant.  That I didn’t see a 31 year old with no future plans and plenty of failed as a red flag. I made a mistake and I had to pay for that. But not her.  I used to feel sad for my daughter, that one day she might wonder what she did wrong. That she might feel sad that you didn’t love her the way a father should.  I used to question if I was right in pushing you to soon. Because if I didn’t do that, maybe you would have stayed around...But I know in my heart why I did it... You would say you cared. She is yours so I wanted you to prove it. I wanted you to fight for your time with her and go to any length to be in her life. That’s what a parent does.  But I could see how thin the strings were that connected you to her, while you boasted they were strong.