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Posts tagged ‘children’

Implosion

It doesn´t hurt, but I feel it physically in my body. It is like an implosion in my deepest core, bending my body at the waste. My chest fills with air, my breath stops until I sneak my face  from behind in between your hair and I exhale “I love you”

It doesn´t hurt, it doesn´t,
but even if it did… I wouldn´t want it any other way.

 

I hear the rain

I am ready.

I am getting ready to go to bed and in my room I hear the rain pounding outside. I mean, when it rains here, it really rains. I am looking forward showering, landing in bed and unplug under clean crispy sheets. LittleDumbass is so sneaky I didn’t even see him getting into my bed and now he sleeps peacefully. In my bedroom, on the loft, the rain sounds harder and I make a mental calculus of what day it is, and when spring is supposed to arrive, because I am ready to better days, to lighter days.

My math dyslexia slows the process some and realize that it is February, nearly March, and so far the year sucks and I am so ready for a better continuation of the present year. No. I don’t like to be moping around so people feel pity for me. I am not that kind of woman, nor I need sympathy from anyone, but on my way to the shower – plenty of time, I am still calculating in my head- I remember that my horoscope has pretty much fucked up the predictions for the year. Read more

first and foremost, a MOTHER

I know he is looking at me from the other side of the room, I should say, observing. I am kneeling on the floor, where LittleDumbass is having a full blown tantrum in the middle of MissAttitude’s birthday party – after all, is not easy being the only boy surrounded by 20 Beyonce’s wannabes.

He wants more soda; he knows soda is a special treat and he had enough and he ain’t getting more, so if he is thirsty, he is getting water. He throws himself on the floor and starts screaming. Read more

Vanilla turns… what!? 42!


That’s right. Vanilla turns 42 today. Read more

all the money in the world

I didn’t win the lotto today, so I am not richer than yesterday.

Moneywise, that is.

The thing is, when I think about money, I think it would never, EVER, give me the happiness my kids do.

Today LittleDumbass turns 4. He turned to be pretty much as he was born: fast, stocky, furious, full of personality -temper!, and sweet as sugar. Despite all the jokes, despite the nicknames, I watch every year the birth of my children, the pain, the suffering, the rawness of the birth…

and every year I fall more and more in love with them.

Happy birthday, my little man.

Plantasjen special: Hortensia 149 kr

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Beautiful Sunday morning in Plantasjen.

“Er du?…” She says, wondering.
“Ja!” l answer, eyes wide open.

Rush. Blood pumping fast.

There is an unspokable recognition between us. Beyond the smiles we are giving each other. She has seen plenty of women like me. I have seen just a handfull like her. She doesnt remember my name – l dont remember hers neither, but l do remember she is Turkish.

And l do remember she was the one stiching the hole on my head when l came to the womens shelter.

“We should take you to the E.R.” she had a worried look on her face “just in case of concusion”.

“No fucking way” l said out of fear.

Fear.

Fear will do serious shit to you. Fear can either paralize you, or can awaken your senses and make your reality cristal clear – clearer than pure iceberg water.

She is holding the weekly special on both hands – a beautiful hortensia – then she puts it down and walks one step closer to me. She wants to give me her full atention when she hugs me. She knows women like me understand the language og hugs in a very special way.

I welcome her and l feel my eyes begin to moist.

“Hvordan går det med deg, vennen?” She says with that harsh but sweet accent. “Du ser fantastisk ut. Og barna… Herregud er det… babyen?”

I nod.

She keeps staring at me with her hands on my shoulders. I update her briefly. She sees that baby is not baby anymore and that l am on top of the game again. I can see surprise on her eyes. Is not that all women that go through the shit l did, that manage to make it. Is not easy to leave the beautiful house, the boat, the fancy cars, the handsome husband, the travelling. Not easy to live in fear when fear paralyzes you.

I am one of the few ones that their fear eventually changed shift. The day l saw fear, not in my eyes, but in my children’s eyes. The day the blow was hard enough to crack my head against the closet. The day l discovered the animal part of me, the part that made me realize l was capable of killing.

I chose to run, instead, and l run to the krisesenteret.

My breast milk stopped for four days.
My hair felt off nearly all over.
My doctors continued treating my cancer.
My friends gave us shelter when we basically lived on the streets out of a suitcase and a pack of diapers for seven weeks.

I had no job, no home, no money, and no family… Just my children.

She recognized once the lioness on me. She did it then, and she does now. She knows they were my children the ones that made my fear change shift. She looks at them. She looks at me. She is proud – l am too.

Now are her eyes, the ones that are moist.

I have learnt to count my blessings every single day – l am, have been, and probably will always be, a deep spiritual person. So l count my blessings every day.

I realize my – our – life(s) has changed dramatically. This is not the first time l have gone through shit, and probably wont be the last one. The difference, now, lies in these two little people; on the strength they give me.

Seeing her made a rush of emotions, feelings, and thoughts to come afloat. I thought to pinch my arm in case l was dreaming.

Instead, l called Arthur.

“Tell me…”
“Æ ælske dæ”
“Say it again…”
“Æ ælske dæ, silvia”

And we hang up. That was it. Nothing more added.

There is this thing, with him, with us; like we don’t need to… inquire each other. There is this trust… He knows l may be up to something, but he doesn’t push. Neither do l. He knows l need him, but without questions, he gives me his full support, just with a sweet mms.

I love him. God l love him.

I count my blessings every day. For me, for my children.

Today?

Today l count them for all those women in fear. So one day, they are able to count them too.

“Er du?…”
“Ja!, JEG ER”.