Almost Not a Happy Post

Ah, the well-laid plans…

I had planned to write a story Monday morning, as is my usual wont. A weekend spent not-writing makes it even more imperative to put words to virtual paper…

Not only was it an incredibly busy day for me, full of family obligations,  work obligations and just house stuff…but my kids went off the fucking wall. I rarely talk about my family here but…it was a really bad, really bad scene.  My son, all of 7 years old wounded my spirit, and left me feeling defeated and beaten and defenseless.

I was crushed, really. It’s amazing how our kids can put bigger holes in us than even our spouses can. And being a mom is fucking hard work sometimes. So I slogged through my day, and tried to get back on keel.

Most of you may know my kids are all adopted. My middle son has a bio sister who lives in the Big City at a special school for kids/young adults with brain trauma. We had an event to attend there tonight which involves a lot of driving, which I knew would be hard on the “littles” given the kind of day we had. And yet, the younger kids  do love to go and visit their ‘big sister’…she is a part of our family despite not ever being “legally” ours.

And it touches me deeply to see these kids, who are coming to know us as Xena’s* extended family. She calls us her Mom’s. They hug us, and talk to us…all these kids who have had life-altering injuries to their brains…who will never be “normal” by the larger society…who can’t remember what number comes after 8 or how much money $20 is, or what time of day it is, let alone day of the week, month of the year.

It puts life in perspective.

Tonight one of Xena’s friends looked so forlorn. No family was there for her, poor sweet soul. I asked her if she wanted a hug. “Why, yes, please” she said, and I hugged her. Her arms around me, just hanging on, and I knew this was a blessing for both of us. I so needed to give a hug then, and get one back.

And so did she.

And we drew apart, and smiled at each other. It helped. It helped us both.

We got home late, very late for us, for the kiddo’s. They got washed up, tucked into bed. I did some work, then came to bed to write this…but Master was ready for his Monday night slutcall.

He knew today was a rough day. I have been ordered to clue him in when things are bad. And he cheered me. Made me smile, then giggle. He knows when I’m crying, and he knows what to say to make it stop, and help me turn my gears around. He is a true blessing to me, that Master of mine.

 

Tonight I don’t have sexy nifty stories in me to write. But something real and true…a bit sad, a bit blue…and at the end?

I’m okay.

I’m okay because of that hug. And I’m okay because my Master took time to make me feel reconnected. Took time to make me smile, and giggle. Took time to care for me.

So, this isn’t an unhappy post. It almost was. It was pretty close to it.

But sorrow can be transformed to smiles, because a little love and caring goes a long way.