Doodle Couch

I was a bit stern with Lucia this morning. I was dressing her little, half-awake, punkle self and I was telling her she couldn't wear her dress. I was in a rush because I had to dress up for work and there was a storm and we didn't have electricity and the world was about to end and I'm melodramatic and extra batty in the morning.

"You have to wear pants, Lucia. The mosquitoes might bite you."

"But I don't want to wear pants, Mommy!"

"But you have to! I said so!"

And then tearfully, she looked at me and said, "Are you mad at me, Mommy? What did I do? I'm sorry..."

Guilt, shame, humility, and love, love, love, love, love came rushing from the very pit of me with such force that I thought I was going to vomit or cry or whatever—anything to release that overwhelming sensation of just being so imperfect and human. I scooped her up in an embrace that forms lifetimes and epiphanies and then all was well.

She's taking her afternoon nap now, and as I stare at her and drink her in, I still can't believe she's mine despite every single blessed mistake I've ever made.

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The past few weeks have been a little difficult. Our beloved yaya finally left for Malaysia and so for about two weeks (cumulatively), we had no yaya. Lucia had to be shuttled back and forth—mornings at her dad's place then evenings back at ours. It was pretty exhausting, to say the least. But there were moments when I would just sit still outside on the steps, and thank God for another day that we were able to complete together.

She's taken to drawing on our—what I now call—Doodle Couch. She started drawing here and there to my utter horror. When I posted a picture online, one of my former students suggested that I just let her continue drawing on the entire couch. The idea was genius and now Lucia is all over this thing. Well, her drawings are.

In the early stages. There are more drawings now.

I got the one at the upper right corner tattooed on my arm. :)

One of her many mommy-and-me drawings.

A friend came over to visit and she noticed that the drawings have a singular theme: they're of me and Lucia (okay, and occasionally, her Dora doll) in different situations and settings. I guess this is Lucia's way of dealing with her new reality, and a way for me to see that she's okay. (Or so I hope.) So far, all her drawings are happy, albeit lacking in sexual diversity. She still has a good relationship with her dad, but I think she's starting to understand how daddy has his own house and she and I have our own house—and that's okay.

This single parenting is hard stuff, I tell you.

I'm sorry, Lucia. Mommy's not mad, mommy is just an asshole sometimes. (Don't say that word...just yet. But it's the only word I can think of to describe myself right now.)

"It's just you and me. Me and you!" she likes to keep saying now. To which I always reply, "Forever."