The Garden Hose

I'm sitting at my desk looking at a black garden hose laying in my back yard. It's been there for over a week. It was against the house until the kids went out there one day and decided to drag it around the yard. And there it sits, where they deserted it, waiting to be moved.

My car needs an oil change and when the weather gets cold the tires always need air. When our cold snap hit yesterday, the tire light came on my dashboard, along with the low fuel light. I thought of trying to see how many check engine lights I could get lit up but decided against it. So yesterday morning, I stopped at the gas station and filled up my tank and drove my car over to the air and filled my tires. Because no one else is going to do it.

When Darrell died, I became a single mother to four children. I did not choose that. But when I adopted 2 more children and became a single mother to six, I did choose that. I chose this life, this crazy, chaotic mess of a life. You'll not hear me complain. Freely choosing this life strips me of all complaining rights. Most of the time I just accept it, revel in it even, 95% of the time I love my life.

But sometimes being a single mother sucks.

The dogs have been out of food since Friday. Not to worry, they've dined like little queens. They've had deli turkey and scrambled eggs I cooked specifically for them. I should have gone to the grocery store but between hauling kids to parties and putting up Christmas trees, and God forbid even trying to write, the thought of loading the small children in their puffy coats into and out of the car seats put me in overwhelm. So I didn't go. Until this morning, because too many eggs for a dog is bad news and Julia has a choir concert and her new pair of show choir shoes hurt her feet. Three days ago I promised I'd get her inserts for her shoes and I hadn't gotten them yet. At 8:30 this morning, I left my small children who had been up since before 6:00 in Julia's care and went to the store to get food, inserts, Christmas ornament hooks and a Starbucks Mocha, because some days I just deserve one. (Some days I don't but I get it anyway.) I came home with everything except the ornament hooks.

Sometimes when the little kids are up before the sun, I wish I could roll over and tell someone else. "It's your turn." Or if I don't feel like making dinner, I wish I had someone else to make it instead of resorting to chicken nuggets or fast food. I wish I had someone to take my car to get its oil changed and the brakes fixed. I wish when I try to hide in my room to write a post I swore I'd never write, that my children wouldn't stream in one by one with their complaints and their cries. I wish someone else would break up their fights, play referee, deal with their crankiness. But I won't complain; I have no right to complain. I chose this.

I'm still sitting at my desk looking out into the yard as I write this and that damn garden hose is still there. I should just get up from this chair and go down and drag in around to the front of the house into the garage. But I think I'll leave it for now. That's something I can complain about.