I might not be held by anyone, but at least I’m not being held back—adios, ‘18.
I guess it’s time for some sort of year in reflection. 2019 is tomorrow. I don’t like the idea of looking back and wishing things were different...
(I do wish I hadn’t had that chicken noodle soup for lunch that is now wreaking revenge on my bunghole and keeping me home on this “holiday”)
Maybe not different, but looking back as to what went wrong in some fake analysis, veiled hope that I might learn from it or do something different next time, if there is a next time. There’s a couple of pressing thoughts, a couple of thentheresthat’s that keep recirculating in my head. I don’t know if that means they’re important or if it means that I am shallow, readable, operating on some level of surfaceness.
I keep thinking about how this was the first year in a long time nobody held me. Granted, I did a lot of holding. Still holding. Holding this teething fever into the new year holding...
No one held me.
What a sad thing that is.
What a sad statement. It creates a chill in me and my brain nips are erect and trembling. I don’t enjoy this vulnerability. Especially when I feel vulnerable for two.
I’m a creature built for companionship.
I love deeply.
I find joy in acts of service.
I will bend the sky so my love can be the stars.
This is the first year I’ve bent it for ourselves, I bought warmer sheets so we are less cold at night.
I are now we.
I reinvented my purpose while grounding all the egos of my nature.
I held myself upright.
I held myself accountable.
I held up up my part of the deal.
I held space.
I held the door open.
But I keep thinking about arms and warm and how fucking cold it is outside.
And then I think about how alla this is prolly just weaning hormones and the boiling fact that haven’t had sex in over a year while the ghosts of wangs past are all around and haunting.
I’m really grateful that the goals are aligning, that’s my other thought. Grateful that my family has their health and togetherness. I’m grateful for this rickety roof sheltering all of us. I’ve been able to really manifest a future for myself with my daughter.
Starting, well, starting tomorrow I guess.
In 2019 I will be teaching “Caretake and Me” painting classes at the Lucky Childe. The Lucky Childe is a new, amazing, family centric, all inclusive café where your kids can play and eat good food and hang out and do homework. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’m excited to put some of my momentum behind the place.
This year I’ve also pitched a program to the Nevada Museum of Art—Stroller tours. One day, two days, three mornings—whatever it turns out to be, pack up your kiddo and meet me at the museum and will go on a kid friendly tour of the artwork. I’m hoping it really takes off and I’m excited to partner with such a respectable organization.
My dream of getting to take my child to work is slowly coming true. Creating my own future, independent. I might not be held by anyone, but at least I’m not being held back.
It’s been a transitional year for people around me as well. My moms health, my brothers happiness, my dad’s retirement. Friends, too. Friends that once played a large role in my life have withdrawn since I’ve had a child. I think there’s truth to that myth... that rumor? That saying? that once you have a child your childfree friends taper off. Moms make new friends with similar alignments to cope with the isolation.
We’re just trees in two separate forests now. Trees trying to break through the crown with no hard feelings because every tree needs the light.
And then there’s my lil seedling, sapling, sweet lil bundle.
You know how I know I love you? I let you have the carrots from my chicken noodle soup. Best bites. Always.
You know I know I love you? You take a shit and I feel relief.
You know how I know I love you?
I vacuum daily.
I chew when you chew.
I’ve willingly tasted your spit just to be kissed by you.
I make your food for every meal.
i feel it when I hold you and can’t stop feeling it when you aren’t near.
I tolerate the idiocy of *ahem* because I want you to be able draw your own conclusions.
You came out of my body this year, into my heart last. Our souls are on a path together and I’m in awe of your fearlessness, curiosity, softness, and humanity.
And your amazing JLo booty that I know didn’t come from my genes.
Heres to wishing together, walking together, laughing, and holding.
Cheers to my kin.
My better half.
The precious sweet potato, Nugglebuns Beeble, DottyMo Rey Go made of star stuff.
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Mallory Kate is a blogger, artist, single mom and funny girl outta Nevada.
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