Bumps and Bruises

I always joke that the doctor is going to think Ron is abusing me. My thighs and hips are the permanent home to a beautiful gray/yellow hue and just as one bruise is healing I am blessed to bestow another one on myself. The bumps and bruises are part of my daily life and half the time I can’t even remember how it got there in the first place.

It’s easy when they are my bumps and bruises, but it is harder to swallow when I am creating the tears on my little guys. I must admit they are tough and fearless as a result, but it still is not fair that they need to learn to live with the burden of a having mother who is going blind.

The other morning my son Ari gave a shout out at his usually waking hour, 6:30 a.m. In a sleep-induced coma, I dragged myself out of bed to make a bottle and grab him from his crib. The first smile and words (if you can call them that since he is 1 years old tomorrow) of the morning are enough to melt anyone’s heart. It was a perfect moment…until the doorframe decided to pick a fight with Ari’s head. He was not impressed and everyone in the building heard him screaming what the F&*K. Immediately, Ron was sitting up in bed confused, but understood as he heard me chanting again and again, “I am so…sorry! Please forgive me.”