I never understood the true meaning of strength until I had a child. I say this as I am sitting in my master bedroom, staring at the posters of race cars and action figures that I recently finished putting on my walls. I had cleaned out my son's room completely, and a good friend of mine was moving in. We were going to be helping each other out for a few months and for the first time in almost 20 years, I would have a female roommate.
It had been since I was in my early 20's that I had a roommate. Back in the day when you would barrel in through the front door with shopping bags stuffed to the gills from your recent trip to the mall. Back in the day of going out at 11pm and staying out till bartime, only to emerge a crusty eyed mascara infused mess around 2pm the next day. The last time I lived with a roommate my kitchen was decorated with hot pots, sandwich makers and half empty liquor bottles. Empty packs of salem menthols littered the kitchen counter by young girls with stamps on their hands baring evidence to their location the night before.
Yes, my life was very different back then. And here I was, knocking at 40's door, sharing a room with an 8 year old. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my closet where my work suits were now crammed in next to tupperware tubs filled with legos and shoes that once fit tiny feet. My sweaters folded nicely next to a stuffed captain america who has the frozen expression on his face of "are you seriously going to wear THAT??" My bathtub is a colorful balance of Paul Mitchell hair care products and giant costco purchase of Mr. Bubble. My make up bag sits harmoniously next to one matchbox car and an iron man figure with no left foot... I am sure Captain America knows where it went.
When you are younger, you dream of the home you will have someday. The big backyard, the swing set, the amazing guy with abs of steal cooking burgers in your backyard. And then you get married, you find out it doesn't work, and you find yourself laying on the floor in your empty one bedroom apartment wondering what you just did to your own life. There are many moments in my life where i have sat bewildered, wondering "what the FUCK did you just do to your life? What did you just do to Sam?"
But it is at those moments, when you feel the most defeated, surrounded by thoughts of your ex in his huge three bedroom house, waxing her new Audi in the driveway while you walk past the reinactment of Spring Break 92 happening at your pool while you clutch your rent check.
If you allow it to, it can burn a whole in your heart the size of Wawatosa and you are left to feel like you have nothing significant to offer your child in comparison to what your ex can offer. You learn to stop feeling guilty at Christmas at the amount of gifts he receives from his dad and start learning how to position things under the tree to make it appear to be more than it is. You purchase items at the dollar store and wrap each one individually. You dig though his closet and rewrap things that he forgot he ever got....you blindfold Captain America because he just knows too much.
You sell shit you never thought you would. I found myself standing with a lump in my throat as I handed over my wedding ring to a large sweaty man wearing way too much gold jewelry just so I could send my son to sports camp for the week. (Ok, as I read that I realize how weird that sounds if you did not realize I was at a pawn shop.)
The point of this blog is not to make you go "Awe, Sarah, you should have just asked when you needed help!" And don't get me wrong, I did. There were many a times when there was just nothing more to sell and I had to ask my friends for money till the next payday. I told myself not to feel bad, as I would do it for them in a heartbeat. They all insisted that I take my time paying them back, however I made it a priority to pay them immediately as nothing can ruin a friendship like having that "crap I owe him money and I don't have it so I better just avoid him and not post that photo of me buying new shoes on Facebook" feeling in the pit of your stomach. Whenever I owe people money, I feel that I need to spend those moments between getting the money and paying back the money, sitting in the corner of a vacant warehouse eating porridge with my fingers.
My views on strength since I have been a mom are ever changing. Just when I feel like I cannot go on, like this is the one instance that will bring me down, and the kid retrievers will be knocking at my door to finally come and pick him up...something miraculous happens. Money is found, babysitters become available...your boss tells you that you can stay home because your son is puking. Bottom line is, it always works out. No matter how much you think it sucks, no matter how much you are certain that you will be out on your ass in the morning REALLY having to eat porridge with your fingers, something comes through for you.
Someone comes through for you. And believe it or not, sometimes it's YOU. Sometimes you find this unknown strength that comes out of nowhere, and you forget that you ever sat on the edge of your bed and cried silently while you searched for enough quarters to buy your son an ice cream cone. Don't get me wrong, there will still be days like this. I will have different emotions as he gets older and has more needs. But I also know that I will get stronger as I get older too. And as the years pass by and whether i am moving my son into my room or into his dorm, I will recall those moments I felt like I couldn't make it another step, and realized it all worked out just fine.
