Ocassionally I get momentary flashes of the mother I used to be. The mom I used to be before two of my babies died. The mom I was supposed to be.
Not this shell I am most days. I'm tired; I don't want to play. Ever. Please, Hunter, don't make me play.
I used to be a goofy, silly, silly Mommie. Seriously. A joke of craziness. Sweaty, frenzied dance parties were a regular occurrence and silliness reigned supreme. But it's hard to happy dance like a moron after your heart is crushed.
Today, I got to be her again. Chasing my kid around the house and "crushing" him. Waking him up by running and jumping on his bed. Playing hours of Go Fish, Memory, and Candyland and actually WANTING to. Carrying him upstairs like a "sack of potatoes" when he's being a butt instead of getting frustrated, short tempered, and feeling like I am just at the end of my rope.
I walked Hunter into school today while loudly showing him the many uses of a paper towel tube. It's a rattle! A telescope! A microphone! A tower! Garbage truck grabber arms! Look, Hunter! It's a trumpet! I seriously talked through the thing all the way into the building. I wore his baseball hat around Target perched atop my giant noggin. THAT'S the mom I used to be.
I was still sad at moments today; I still cried. I looked at the little girl outfits and thought of Riley; I wondered what I would be eying up had she lived. I cried when I read Hunter his "Riley book" and when he told me he wants another baby that won't die. That never goes away.
She made a return today even though I know she will be gone again tomorrow.
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