The Five Reasons I Get Out Of Bed Every Day #2

My kids.

Yes, I hear you groaning because you saw that coming.

I didn't say they would all be surprising or groundbreaking. Get over it.

My kids have been a reason I get out of bed every day for the last seventeen (nearly eighteen!) years.

At first it started out as simple motherhood. This new person, that you cooked for nine, sometimes ten, months has come bursting into the world. You're excited. You're exhausted. You're in love.

It's a love like you have never known before that very moment.

You love your parents (most of you), you love your spouse (some of you), and you love yourself (a few of you), but this love is like absolutely none of those.

This love is so incredibly hard to describe other than you'd walk across a room of flaming Legos, barefoot, and naked to make sure they are happy.

My kids are no exception to that rule.

I get out of bed so that my hypochondriac daughter can ask me for bandages for non-existent wounds.

I get out of bed so that my emotional teenager can yell at me because my other emotional teenager ate MY ice cream (doesn't even have to be theirs!).

I get out of bed because I've learned over the years that if it's too quiet, someone is up to no good.

The older they get, the easier it is to convince myself they don't need me anymore.

I've raised pretty independent kids.

What the hell was I thinking?

My depression has taught them to be independent. It controls me a lot more than I like to let on.

They love me. They love that we can laugh and be silly together, even though they're growing up. They love that they can talk to me about anything. And I do mean anything.

One of my favorite stories to tell is when the middle one and I were in the car heading somewhere (I can't even remember where) and the song "Sexy Back" by Justin Timberlake came on the radio. From the back seat I hear:

"MOM! Turn that off! I can't listen to that song it has the S word in it!"

I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out where Justin says shit in the song by playing the lyrics in fast forward in my brain (can't remember much of my childhood, but song lyrics, my memory level is stellar. Go figure.).

"B, he doesn't say shit in this song."
"No! The OTHER S word!"

Now, I'm completely confused.

"There IS no other S word!"

Quiet whisper from the back, "Sexy."

Trying my best not to laugh I say, "Sexy isn't a bad word. You're fine."

"Is has the SEX word in it!"

"You're nine, you don't even know what sex is."

"I do too!"

We're stopped at a stop light at a major intersection and I made the mistake of saying. "What do you think sex is, B?"

Are you ready? I wasn't!

"Sex is when a boy and a girl take their pants off and then rubs his thing on her butt."

Speechless.

Totally and utterly speechless.

After what seems like an endless minute I manage, "Who told you that?"

"My friends."

"They're wrong. When you think you're ready to know what sex actually is, you come and talk to me. You're friends are stupid."

That opened the door to some of the weirdest conversations I've ever had in my entire adult life.

But, I'll have them. A million times if I have to because I love them and I want them to know that nothing is off the table to talk about.

The little one has talked to me about her desire to be a boy.

"Mom, I want to be a boy."

"Why?"

"Because they can do things girls can't and they like boy things."

"First of all, girls can do whatever they want and they can like whatever they want. The only difference between boys and girls is that if girls stand up to pee, they'll most likely pee on their shoes!"

Gales of laughter.

"I like to get dirty."

"Do I ever stop you from getting dirty?"

"No."

"Next."

"I like black."

"Okay. So you're telling me only boys can like black?"

"That's what this girl said."

"She's wrong."

"Oh."

"So, it sounds like the only difference between you and a boy is a penis and we'll get to that later."

"Huh. I didn't know. Thanks, Mom."

The oldest told me about the first time he too a drink of a beer with his friends.

"Mom, I have to tell you something."

*deep breath waiting for the worst* "What's up?"

"When I spent the night at (some kid's name I can't remember)'s house, his parents were gone until like three in the morning."

"Oh. I didn't know that. Okay. What did you guys do?"

"Well, (same kid that I can't remember)'s brother gave us some beer."

"Oh yeah? Did you drink it?"

"Yeah."

"Did you like it?"

"No."

"Good. Remember that."

"You're not mad?"

"Nope."

"Cool."

I get out of bed every day because I never know when those small, yet life changing, conversations have to happen and it's my job to make sure they understand whatever life throws at them.

I have an amazing work ethic for a depressive. I always have.

I remind myself every day that I need to get out of bed and be present, if not interactive, in their lives.

If they didn't have me, the kids would flounder. Granted they'd still have their dad and grandma, but they play different roles,

If I were selfish and didn't force myself to be present, they wouldn't know that I would do anything in the world to help them, to listen to them, and even to take away their pain if I can.

Depression sometimes forces us to be selfish. It calls to me to stay in bed, the kids are old enough to fix their own breakfast. They have electronics to entertain them. They don't need me.

Sometimes the fight is exhausting.

Sometimes the fight is easy.

This fight is one that's always worth it.

~Kim