Ten Years

On an unseasonably warm March day ten years ago this week, I went on a date.
It was not your usual date. There were five of us. An uneven number. I will admit that I was the dreaded 'fifth wheel'. I knew going in that this was to be the case, and yet, I went anyway. I woke up that morning and dressed, not in heels, but walking shoes. I didn't apply makeup, I threw my hair into a ponytail. I pulled on a hoodie sweatshirt and jeans.
Ten years ago this week, I had my first "date' with my kids.
Ten years.
We went to the zoo.
We had Snow Cones.

And then....I blinked, and ten years went screaming by at warp speed.

I was twenty-five years old. I was living alone, in a studio apartment, and I spent an inordinate amount of money on my fingernails and shoes. I liked peace and quiet and reading and sappy, romantic movies. I spend weekends having drinks with friends and I didn't think twice about putting myself before absolutely anyone else.

And then I fell in love with a man who had three kids. Eight, six, and three.

I moved to a three bedroom, split level house. I spent a lot of time trying to paint the fingernails of a couple of little girls who could not sit still. I started spending an inordinate amount of money on other people's shoes. Peace and quiet started to make me very, very nervous. If I watched a movie, it involved Disney characters. I spent weekends playing dinosaurs, outside, in the dirt. I didn't think twice about putting them before absolutely anyone else.

It was not always easy, and still is not. Trust and love and loyalty are difficult, tangled paths down a long and treacherous road. We are still learning. I can not put pen to paper and come up with adequate words to describe what I feel for them.
They have healed me, all the while breaking my heart. They have tested me, exactly when I needed the test. They have helped me, and pushed me, and made me braver and stronger and louder and crazier and made me laugh so hard my stomach ached. I have wished upon a thousand stars on their behalf. I have said ten million prayers, per child, per day on their behalf. I have begged and bargained and made deals that involved candy and small amounts of money. I have considered attacking small animals and other children on their behalf. I have fought for them, with them, and against them. I have been wrong about them, dead wrong, more than once. I have been right about them. I have said, "I told you so" to them, about them, and because of them. I have danced in the rain with them. I have lied for them, to them, and about them. I have missed them, cried for them, and worried for them. I have sang out loud with them. I have been a fool, and watched them be foolish. I have made mistakes, and let them make mistakes. I have said "I am sorry" to them, and for them. I have given things up for them, and taken things away from them. I have grieved with them and for them. I have yelled at them, because of them, and about them. I have said 'yes', when I wanted to say 'no'. I have said 'no', and then cried because I couldn't say 'yes'.
I have loved them.

I do not know what their first newborn cries sounded like. I do not have memories of their first baths, or steps. I do not know if they will wish I was more, or different, or better. I do not know how the story will end, and what their graduations or weddings will look like. I do not know what will be on their resumes. I do not know what their children will call me. I do not know if they will remember all of my mistakes. I do not know if they will be as proud to call me 'theirs' as I am to call them 'mine'.
But I DO know where they were ten years ago this week, on a warm and sunny March day.
And I know that they were not at all what I expected, and so much more than I ever deserved.
And I know that the Snow Cones were grape.