I try not to cry in front of Archer and when his Dad and I fight, we try to whisper-yell as not to wake him or distract him from his
playtime with our bullshit. But the other day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was stressed
out, feeling alone and sad, dangling at the end of my rope. It was one of those days.
I finally broke down after I bonked
my head trying to reach a dust-bunnied Lego under the couch.
And all I kept thinking was that sometimes it sucks being a mom and a wife and a human. Sometimes I just want to be alone. So I can finish my work. Think. Sleep. Smoke cigarettes.
Archer was there. And he saw me bonk my head and fall into
a heap and cry. He watched my dramatics for a minute before jumping to his feet and scurrying off down the hall. He appeared moments later, running awkwardly to me with his red
blankie in his arms. He handed me the blankie before taking his binky
out of his mouth and putting it in mine.
Because when he cries, that’s what I do. I give him his blankie and his pacifier and within minutes he’s smiling again.
And so I sat; with dog hair in my lip-gloss and mascara
down to my ankles, with a pacifier in my mouth and a red blankie over my
head. And I thought to myself, maybe this doesn’t suck so bad after all.
I pulled the blankie off my face and there stood Archer, staring up at me and smiling with the puzzled look he gets, eyebrows raised, head slightly titled.
And just like that, I forgot about everything else– all the bullshit and the stress and yuck and within minutes, I too was smiling again.