27 April 2011


I gave birth to only one boy. While pregnant with him, I had a dream that he came out of me, stood up and walked away. I see that happening as he grows and changes. These days, I am surrounded by pubescent boys- sweaty and throat-cracky. They are sized like small adults but with no sense of the amount of physical space they take up. Their limbs are growing so quickly that they knock things over clumsily. Noisily.

And that one there- I'm not even sure I know his name. He just crossed into my kitchen and opened the cabinet where the glasses are kept and got one down. Made himself an ice water. It was obvious he knew where the glasses are kept. I don't mind.

I like how these boys don't hate being here. They don't yet slink past me to hide in Ezra's room and make bombs or do drugs. They tell me about how the math teacher hates them. When I tell them they have to stop calling me Mrs. Schuppe, they start addressing me as Mom.

I think now that maybe my arms will always be full of children, one way or the other. Some might say that motherhood was a mistake for me, a child of eighteen. But I guess it was just Fate. My fate.

To be a mother. As often as I have fought it.

It is a place that I know.


Kelsea Habecker said...

Great post, Melissa. I don't know if I'll ever experience motherhood (in the traditional sense, at least). It's a world that fascinates and terrifies me. I enjoy reading your writing about it.

Jill said...

awww... this post gave me warm fuzzies :)
( I'm afraid that it'll be my kids hiding in their rooms and making bombs.... but maybe, just maybe, I'll be blessed like you)

Cathy said...

Isn't it funny how mothering fits those of us who never imagined we could do it. Or like it!

BarelyKnitTogether said...

This gives me such an ache in my heart, Melissa! I hope my house gets filled with boys who call me "mom." And yes, you are made for this. One way or another. Beautiful, beautiful post.

pieceofmind said...

i don't know why your post made me sad, but it did. i'm reminded that i do want my two to think of me, similarly--not avoiding, but chatting me up, as they do.

Misplaced Musings said...

Thanks yall. Jill- don't forget, I've also had to go through hell with a child. There's nothing sadder than seeing your child in handcuffs. Maybe it just makes the blessings seem sweeter, to have been to dark places.

joeblogger said...

This is a beautiful post, girl. I keep coming back to it and smiling. Who is that kid anyway? Have you figured out his name yet?

Kellianne said...

Our house growing up was the hang out, always filled with kids. My mom is still known as Momma Patti. This made me smile. Alot of good memories poured out reading. I am figuring it out that my house too is quickly becoming the neighborhood hang out. I am glad to know where my kids are, but the grocery bill is beginning to show signs of the added bodies.