work to be done

i started this miniseries 'Letters to My Daughter.' i think she's gonna need it, with a personality like hers and a mother like me, guidance is required.

february 26. 2011.

today i drove to work sad because they changed my schedule and i was supposed to take you to a party.  i never wanted to hear screaming children and eat cotton candy more than today but work had to be done.  so i put on my clothes and tried not to cry as i watched you cry when i told you we weren't going.  as soon as i got out the door, i called your aunt to ask if she could take you.  i was so happy she said yes but i still wanted to cry because i could not join you.  i wouldn't be able to watch you get your face painted or laugh with other children.  if you scraped your knee, i wouldn't be the one to lift you up and tell you how strong you are and how scars will be great stories to tell when you're old enough to share them with your own kids.  i just really wanted to be there.  but there was work to be done.  i drove on the highway tuning my own sadness out with loud music, music that i can't listen to when you're in the car.  yes mommy listens to misogynistic music that requires me to shake my ass for some cash but i'm only living vicariously through the melody.  in reality, i would shake my ass for your college tuition.  needless to say, i saw three terrible car accidents on my way to work.  big trucks flipped over, ambulances rushing away, people crying and i called home just to hear your voice.  you were too busy getting ready for the party to talk to me but that was fine because i still got to hear your voice squealing about what outfit you would wear.  i rushed home from work hoping that i could stop by the party but i didn't want to spoil your fun.  i was exhausted and i didn't bring any extra clothes to look like a mother you would be proud of so i actually stopped in front of where the party was held, imagined you were having your fun and drove home to wait for you.  i must have fell asleep waiting because when i jumped up, it was 11 o'clock and my house was still quiet.  there were no little feet running up and down the hallway and you weren't lying in bed with your stuffed animals clutched to you like you were afraid someone was going to steal them in your sleep.  my heart started pounding.  surely the party had to be over.  so i called your aunt.  then i called the mother who was throwing the party - both of her numbers. nobody picked up.  then i called him.  he reassured me that you were probably dancing your life away and everybody was probably too busy chasing children to pick up the phone.  he asked if i was crying and i was.  my breathing was short, my chest was heavy, i wondered where my child was.  i prayed that you weren't in one of those car accidents with twisted metal lying there like you didn't have a mother to save you.  i started getting dressed ready to drive the route i know your aunt would take just to make sure her car wasn't flipped upside down and that you were all okay.  right as i was about to leave my house, the phone rang.  your aunt was helping clean up and you would be home soon.  still, i paced the house until she called to say you were downstairs.  i looked at you like it was the first time i was seeing you and i remember because you were so tiny back then wrapped up in a blanket waiting for someone to love you.  now here you were, hopping out the car telling me all the details of the party and i could just stare at you in awe.  you were getting tall but you were still my baby. my precious child.  when you got upstairs and finally in your bed, i stared at you while you slept, exhausted from all the sugar and running around.  i stared and i cried knowing that even when i'm with you or away from you, there will always be work to be done, but my first job, my most important job is to be your mother.

i love you.