Jealousy

Sitting here in my living room, watching my kids wreck the house despite my screams every few minutes for them to stop.  I wonder how my Mama did it. 

I had the fear of my Mama that my kids don’t seem to possess. I also didn’t have a father around so I knew she was the be all, end all to life as I knew it. I knew that very early on and it’s an awareness that I am grateful for now. 

My Mama is no longer here for me to ask questions to and hear her homespun. responses that were tailor-made for my understanding. Yes, much like Forest Gump’s Mama, mine too knew how to effectively communicate with me without making me feel less than but fully capable and often inspired.

As a Mama, I often feel like a wildlife photographer, just here to study and photograph my kids, being careful not to interfere with the natural order of things only in life or death situations do I dare intervene. Even when they cry, I remember writing in my book about hearing my kids cry but hesitating to soothe them because they were outwardly expressing how I feel on the inside. Though I can’t say I still feel exactly the same, I will admit that even three years later I catch myself hesitating in the comforting of my kids. I may still be resentful that they have a Mama, that can console them while I do not. 

It's a hard thing to admit that I’m jealous my kids have a Mama and mine is now just a memory.