leslieism

Sometimes I feel like Cinderella when the clock strikes twelve and her carriage turns back into an electric blue Dodge Neon.  

Driving home from the beach last night I felt a modicum of emotional dehydration. Both hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead with my mouth slightly open, both eyebrows raised and a slightly dazed look upon my face…..I wanted to speak, but only a sigh would omit from the speaking hole.  I concerned my thoughts with my daughter’s bizarre behavior and negative attention seeking. And yet, in the brief half second it took to furrow my brow I realized that my car was full of sand; that my daughter had melted marshmallow in her hair; that I just went on a long walk on the beach with my honey….arms wrapped around each other as we held on tight for warmth and possibly to help with the deflection of the mortar fire ensuing chaotically around us….stumbling in the loose sand and having to talk very loudly…soooo unromantic, however without the kids for a half hour, it was like a very romantic date.  Aaaaannnnndddd thoughts return to my child.  Emotional dehydration.

Knowing what is best for our children is not easy, and shouldn’t be easy really, because then they would just be little robots.  If we want to teach them how to think and feel for themselves, we have to allow them to do so.  It is our responsibility as parents (I love when I act all experty on the subject) to protect our offspring, but we do not need to be martyrs! (I can’t be a martyr because I am literally “no Mother Teresa”)  My emotional dehydration partially stems from trying to protect my daughter by taking on her feelings.  I’m tired and she’s acting out…….I’m gonna go ahead and give myself permission to try a new game plan.

A year ago my game plan would most definitely have not consisted of meeting my ex-husband’s baby that he had with his now ex-girlfriend.  Yeah, let’s be real, pretty much the exact opposite of that game plan…more like a board game game plan, a boring game, like Monopoly. However, tonight I not only met the baby, but I held her and kissed her beautiful lil’ baby cheeks.  Not having her father as a part of her life, I tried desperately to ignore the fact that my daughter has a sister.  I was quite honestly repulsed by the baby I had never met….jealous and sad for my daughter.  Well, circumstances presented themselves and I was given a choice.  I could respond to the (I want to say something other than the cliche’ “baby mama”….but yeah, nope) baby mama when she tried to contact me or I could continue to pretend they didn’t exist or at the very least….lived.in.North.Dakota.

Well try as I might, I knew they didn’t live in North Dakota and mostly, well, my daughter deserves to have a relationship with her sister……or the choice, along with the feelings and emotions that may arise either way(for her)(okay and kind of for me too)(geez, I sure like to make everything about me)(it’s hard not to with the Earth revolving around me and all).  

So I have been given a gift….an opportunity to grow….and I am going to take it and run(mostly just walk fast, I kinda lie when I say I go for runs….I am not a “runner” so much as I am a “fast walker”….but I get where I need to go and give myself chances to stop and smell the roses…or eat a piece cake).  And my child, she gets an opportunity to grow as well….if I let her.  And I choose to let her, mostly because her baby sister is cute….if she was an ugly baby I would just tell Elena they moved to North Dakota.