"Purple Rain of Patience"
(Photo as seen on the Dr. Phil show, in which I posted back in May of 2017 in attempts to share my honesty with the world and engage in open and honesty conversations about learning how to be a mother)
Here's a brief look inside of my head, and what I battle with on a daily basis...
Purple rain, purple rain Purple rain, purple rain
Ughhhh I just got in here with the iron… can’t you stay in the other room until I’m done getting your clothes ready? I’m not ready to deal with you yet and your brother is already in here and I’m already watching him. And now your crawling closer and I already have the blanket out on the floor to iron your clothes.
Purple rain, purple rain I only wanted to see you Bathing in the purple rain
What’s your Daddy doing? What’s Ma doing? Why can’t someone else watch you? I haven’t even washed myself up yet… and my hair, ugh it feels so gross. I’m not ready for you yet. Damn, give me a few more minutes. And now here you come… crawling closer to the blanket I’m trying to iron on. I know you’re going to come over here to mess up what I’m doing. And yep, there you go, sitting right on the blanket and on top of your shirt. I can’t iron your shirt with you sitting on it… Damn, can you please just go away for a few minutes, PLEASEEEEE?
Purple rain, purple rain Purple rain, purple rain
As you slowly turn the corner your hands gracefully touch the ground one after the other, as if you are completely in tune with the music. Right hand, left hand, right hand, left hand… as you crawl in my direction… and the morning sun shines through the window over my shoulder perfectly glistening in your direction.
Purple rain, purple rain I only wanted to see you Bathing in the purple rain
You slowly nod your head up and down synchronized with the tone and beat of the music, as if you’ve heard the song several times before. After 3 nods of you focusing so intently on your movements, you glance up at me with your beautiful big brown eyes and smile as they connect with mine. Still nodding to the music, you continue to crawl towards me… and suddenly I forget my task at hand, in awe of all that you are in this moment. Right hand, left hand, right hand, left hand… you make your way to the blanket lying in front of me and you begin to sit down angling yourself to perfectly end mimicking my direction. The clothes you sat on become background noise to your existence. And then you glance over your shoulder with your beautiful curly lashes and I can see into your soul, as you smile of your accomplishment.
The first version is how I usually am, the “Person” version of me. My automatic, my programming, my conditioning, my robot, my Kanker… the cloud of anxiety that typically blocks me from being present to my own children. I’m frustrated that what they are doing interferes with what I have going on…. Attempting to control them for my own expectations. Suppressing who they are for what I want to deal with. I’m angry, annoyed, and dismissive… trying to rush them to the next moment.
And then there are moments, such beautiful moments when I’m alive and present with them. I can see their existence and I can feel their presence. I see a new life, a new human, a new soul looking to explore the world as it unfolds around them.
For children each day is new, each moment is new… a new opportunity to grow, and learn and explore. As adults we’ve built our world on routines of repetitiveness, repeating days, weeks, months, and years… over and over and over. When I’m present, I understand this & I can live it. When I’m not, I’m disgusting.
I fight Kanker, everyday…. every moment.
I’m a horrible mother, but I will be better.