mean mom

“you are a mean mom,”
the four year old says to me.
“i wisht i killt you.”
he has just woken up
maybe he had a bad dream?
or
maybe he remembers
maybe he remembers the nine months
inside me
my wishing him away
every minute
of every day
of that pregnancy
or maybe he remembers
those 26 hours of labor
those two hours of pushing
as i fiercely
tried
to
eject
him
& he turned sideways
& backwards
he turned me inside out
refusing to leave
peacefully
maybe fearing what i would do
once i finally
got my hands
on him….
i flinch
with guilt
as i remember
as i can never
forget…
i love my son
…but there was a time
when i did not.

i don’t think i will ever fully recover from my last pregnancy. i just wish i knew for sure that my son will. i don’t want to take him down with me.

 

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jekyll & hyde

no one tells you
how hard it is
to be both a mom
& a real person
that those flaws
you have
as a real person
just become
as amplified as fuck
when you become
a mom
because a mom is
both more than a real person
& less

so a trifecta of mom journal page self-portraits today…but my demons are still not exorcised.
sigh.
i feel bad for my kids…but i wonder if someday they will feel bad for me.
i am trying. i really really am. some days go better. some days i am able to be a so-called real person.
other days…

this is the second one today that borrowed from a famous novel.
first i was gulliver…now i am dr. jekyll.
(or am i mr. hyde?)

stranded

you never wanted to do this
alone
you never wanted
to do this
alone
you feel so lost
so angry
& you suffer that pain
acutely
as you tell yourself to hold it together
(you don’t)
as you tell yourself to keep a happy face
(you don’t)
all you want to do
is break things
& scream
& scream
& scream
until your voice is raw
until your eyes are dry
because you have nothing
nothing
left to give
all you want to do is sink
sink
into depair
wallow
in despair
but somehow
somehow you have to
stay
afloat

more motherhood angst leaking from my head & onto my page.
yay! but, you know what? it keeps my head out of the oven.

misha pointed out that iggy doesn’t have a face in this on or in the previous one. i’m not sure why. subconscious–would you like to weigh in?
what? nothing?
iggy is a very challenging child. it doesn’t help that he is the one most like his father.
his father.
the reason for a lot of my angst.
he checked out the first time i got pregnant. he was no longer the center of my universe, and he turned from mr. perfect into mr. perfect asshole.
yet somehow i still had three more children with him.
and now i am raising them alone.
because he has just become more & more perfect
at being an asshole.

being a single mom sucks ass. it truly does. but living with dusty sucks bigger ass. so while i am living the lesser of two evils–i’m still pissed off about it.

demonic mom

every night
as they lay sleeping
my heart squeezes
& i think,
“tomorrow
i won’t be a crap-ass mom
tomorrow
i won’t lose my mind.”
then morning comes
& the demons inside me
come out to dance
with the demons
i spawned

i have a really bad habit of not waiting until the page is dry to take a picture. plus these are all on journal paper with the idea that i will do a bigger & better version on some nice watercolor paper or canvas even (ink on canvas is a gamble) if i ever get a chance & like the original enough.
so.
my page is all wrinkly & weird looking.

this is a dark subject that i have kind of made light about. because…well, i have trouble taking my pain seriously.

but tomorrow is another day.

so cold…so dark

“so cold…so dark,” is what they others taught him to say.
and it’s funny to hear
a four year old loudly whispering
“so cold…so dark.”
it’s funny…in a creepy way
and we all laugh to hear him say it.
“so cold…so dark,” i whisper to myself.
it feels different coming out of my mouth.
like it dwells inside me
that cold
that dark
and i wonder
what kind of mother am i?

too many kittens

so stray kittens keep showing up
and now misha & poppy have taken to throwing them at people
me mostly
not necessarily “throwing” so much as aggressively tossing
like they run up as i am reading a book…
or typing this blog entry
and plop a kitten
claws out
into my lap.
it it both terrifying and comical.
i tried to capture it in this journal entry…but feel as if i did not succeed.
i wanted it to be all sinister…but dammit–poppy is too fucking cute. i mean, he has always reminded me of the baby that they replaced the addams family baby with in addams family values when the baby goes from being a true addams to being a typical “cute” baby…a gerber baby if you will.

baby

the thing is is that poppy is actually sinister–despite his disney cuteness.

when i call my light haired blue-eyed children to me, i summon them by saying, “children of the corn!”

and it’s not just because we live in the midwest.

sunflower me

i have recently decided
that it is enough
that i find
myself
hugely entertaining.

it is probably for the best
that i find myself
to be a hoot.
and that i love my own
art

i might be
unpopular
but i am me.
i am i am i am
i really really am

and i love that about myself.