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YOPJ - A Day in the Life of a Superhero

If you're a mom, you are a superhero. This idea can push forward a frustrated, middle-age, bleach-blonde, overly plush optimist, already overflowing with obligations and privileges, all oriented around that halo we call motherhood.

As I'm replacing my garbage bag in the kitchen, feeling lightheaded from the morning snack I missed, a dark knight with shining rock star locks appears, built like a brick of gold and moving swiftly to prepare my lunch in 5 minutes or less. I could get dizzy watching him. In fact, I catch my mouth hanging open instead of me moving on to check on our wee, sleeping, tiny princess. I mutter something about how this would be called workplace harassment if we weren't married and move on.

The baby is doing great. Sleeping. So i grab my iPad to wait for lunch. A minute later we are devouring his hot dogs and chips, and im promising to follow up with fresh coffee. First, Ive gotta throw myself at a bio and see what sticks. Obsession? Yes. But with reasons.

This is about a day... today. Back at my iPad again. Baby girl is climbing on me, trying to eat my hands as i lay with her on my king sized mattress, or overthrow my focus on writing. I love listening to strong women , so I've got Demi Lovato singing "old ways" to me. There's another alexa tucked away in this room, too. 3 plays and I put on " unstoppable" by Sia. I want to memorize it, too, along with a lot of other empowering songs. I need courage to keep going; every day.

Having children has been a martyr's marathon for both parents. It should not have been. It wasn't the number of kids. It was Oppositional Defiant Disordered kids that colored it this way. And it only took two out of our ten. My husband used to be a busy, creative thinker.... and he still is, but now he's more exhausted than ever, constantly being stopped by others and feeling crushed down anyway, because he just wakes up feeling like he's emotionally under a concrete slab at a collapsed bridge someone just had to burn down.

Anger, grief, and fear of further acts of revenge eat at us daily. We keep learning more about how our love of a vision with loyal, honest, loving children became the black-magic hiding the ugly reality shaping up around us.

We still have good children, but our idealism has left us drifting far off course, with damaged trust. The other children remind us daily not to give up hope.
Written by EdibleWords
Published
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