Crying at Night

May 26, 2010

“Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re going to miss me when I grow up, aren’t you?”

“No way, Jose!  You promised you were going to buy the house next door and be my neighbor.”

“Can I live across the street instead of being your neighbor?”

“Yes, baby.  I’ll love you no matter what you decide.”

The trust and love that I received from my father is the same I would like to pass down to my children.  I want them to feel like someone believes in them, because I do.

These days, I cringe at the sound of the alarm clock.  Thoughts of (damn) hope only tease me for a second before I remember all the days from before, the days that keep repeating.  Each day was a new hope that, ‘today is the day…”  Hope that, “Today is the day I will get time with my babies and my family.  Time to be a mommy and not just a ‘provider’ — a day I don’t have to apologize all day long for falling short — for everyone.

These days, I know better.  I know it will be a day that I feel guilt for not being grateful that I can be a provider, guilt for not having enough time to be a real mommy, guilt for not making it home in time to see my hubby, guilt for not having more time to offer to my boss, guilt for working straight through lunch and until bedtime — again.

Tears of a clown used to fall — now they’re just plain tears.

Forgive me while I roll around in self-pity, greed, jealousy, sorrow, embarrasment and sad while becoming totally absorbed with self — my self.

How can I be so blessed and so sad at the same time?

I miss my daddy.

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