I am happy to be home.
I had a big weekend. A big roller derby tournament that required me to travel two hours away. In making travel arrangements, Psycho and I decided not to leave until late Friday night so we could spend more time with our families before we left town. We knew that if the tournament went well, it would be likely that we would not be coming home until late Sunday night.
The tournament went well. I did not arrive home until midnight on Sunday.
As an alternate on the roster, I couldn’t guarantee my family that I would even be playing. I couldn’t even prepare them with a time. All I could do was text them as soon as coach leaned over, placed his hand on my shoulder and asked, “Are you ready to play?”
So that is what I did.
Well, my cell phone was near dead by then. So I asked Gretta Von Detta (seriously, I feel like I am in a comic book sometimes) to relay the message and the address. I didn’t know it then but my husband literally stepped out of the returns line at Sears, placed three boys in their respective car seats with home made signs and drove like the dickens to see his wife play in her first roller derby bout.
All of my boys stood on the sidelines (for about a half second before they lost interest and ran like mad hatters all over the tournament venue) with their misspelled signs and cheered for their momma. At the end, I skated over, slid on one knee and kissed them all. It was an amazing moment during an amazing weekend.
…and me without my camera.
Then they went home. I walked them helter skelter out to the car. Other derby girls giggled as my boys attempted to climb a few trees on the way and I carried Vito out by one arm and a leg. I kissed them and thanked them for coming to support me. They all asked if I was coming home with them and I had to say no. I shut the doors to the minivan.
And I stayed. And then I was sad.
I was homesick.
After a busy work week, a shortened family night and a 20 minute reunion, I kind of wanted to go home.
I missed them.
I am a kick ass mom. I love being able to craft a scoopy (backhoe) costume for my son on Halloween. I love that I can face paint them all like a pro. I love that I passed on my love of journaling to my two older boys and that I can laugh in the face of my little Vito’s antics (sometimes). I love that I write love notes to my son on his planner as often as I can and they make his smile erupt from his heart.
I love that my sense of adventure has led them to meeting the first doctor to be on the ground when the genocide in Darfur began. I love that they have also met a survivor of those atrocities. I love that they are surrounded by the athletic, smart, strong and creative women that they encounter because of roller derby. I am proud that someday when they look up my name in the archives, they will find that I write for the only black woman owned paper to be archived by the State of Michigan.
But sometimes…I just want to come home. Sometimes, out of all that I do and all that I consider a priority, I just want to be their mom. I just want to have their snack on the table when they get home from school. I just want clean underwear in their drawer and to be able to make it to their school assemblies. I just want to be there when they look out into the sea of mommy faces.
I don’t know if you remember the show Judging Amy. I do. It was one of my favorite shows. Strong female leads, loving brother, justice, wisdom…you get it.
Amy is a single mother who is young, ambitious and successful. She is doing the best she can to juggle a lot of balls. She has a young daughter and a difficult, difficult….ambition. Hmmm…I am sensing a theme here.
Please watch this clip. Do it. Wait until about 4 minutes and then you will know exactly how I feel this morning.
Love to you all,