My dad often reminds me that you learn something new everyday. Today I learned something pretty damn significant. Ignorance is only bliss when it involves not knowing that the large handful of peanut butter filled pretzels you eat every night have an entire gram of fat in EVERY SINGLE ONE. Apart from things as insignificant as calories ignorance is just ignorance. Until, that is, it’s not and then it’s a myriad of (mostly) unpleasant feelings.
Over the phone today I asked her if this situation was especially sad or was this normal. She replied, “both and.”
As soon as the newborn euphoria wore off with our own children and we discovered just how hard parenthood is we developed a serious empathy for single moms. No matter how they got there judgment was off the table if they were continuing to show up for their kids every single day.
Later we decided we didn’t just want to talk about it or simply throw some money at it; we wanted to get involved.
And, so we (reluctantly / scarily / hesitantly / are all those synonyms?) did.
Today I had four children to get ready to get out the door in time for 9:00 pre-school. I was determined to be on time so that I could high-five myself post drop-off, but as we were supposed to be leaving I entered the kitchen to find a pencil sharpener emptied of it’s shavings on the floor and then layered with a (so it seemed) gallon of water with an unnamed four-year old attempting to clean it up by spreading it around the floor.
We were only 18 minutes late and I may or may not have shoved the two extra little people I had with me (one in a car seat no less) through the classroom door to make sure their teachers noticed I had TWO extra humans and that was my reason for being late (this time it actually was so I really needed them to vouch for me, mmmkay?)
It’s now nearing 11 p.m. and I’m tired. So so tired. The type of tired where even the best of the worst type of TV hurts your head. The house is quiet, there’s nothing but the sound of my flickering candle and the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard. I have a million things I want to say and no energy to get it all out. What I can and must say before I go to bed though is that immersing yourself into a broken world is incredibly hard and sad. I just want them to have a beautiful and safe life filled with all the resources they deserve.
So, I’m left clinging to the hope that they don’t need me in order to have the life I think they deserve. They really only need someone far greater than any one of us could ever be.
I learned something new today, it’s true, but I was reminded of something even more important: I am not enough.
Thank you God that we are not the water, only the faucet.