Heather Adair Hawkins | Without Her


Without Her

14 Aug 2015, by Heather Hawkins in Uncategorized

“Mom. What are you doing in there,” she asks from the other side of the door. “Its the bathroom. What do you think I’m doing in here,” I respond in a monotone. This is not the the first time I’ve been asked this today. “POOPING!” Pounding feet retreat from the door and down the stairs. I’m not pooping. I’m eating chocolate. That’s what I do in here. I eat chocolate. It makes me feel better. It means I have a reason to be behind a closed door.

I straighten my clothing and wipe my mouth. I flush the toilet and open the door. I’m ready. As I walk down the stairs I notice Aiden has changed her outfit for the fourth time today. Its a combination of a dress that she ripped the spaghetti straps off of and turn into a skirt, a shrug meant to be a dancing top, and scraps she has pilfered from my quilt room that she has taped to herself. “I’m a belly dancer. Look at me! LOOK AT MAH FACE! MAHHHHHH FACE!” “You look lovely,” I say trying to hide the smile about to form. “I am NOT lovely. I am hardcore.” “Sorry. Very hardcore.” “I know. Watch this!” She ungulates in an almost inhuman way and then touches her head to the floor before wandering off on her tiptoes.

Not two minutes later, I hear a crash from the kitchen. “Aiden, what are you doing.” “Butter.” “…..butter. why butter?” I find myself rushing to the kitchen. Why would she need butter? Is there going to be butter on my floor for an ice skater? Butter on the walls for modern art? “Butter for a rice cracker.” “Aiden, do you not need butter for a rice cracker.” “NO! I NEEEED IT NOW! Butter for toast, butter for cereal, butter for bagels, BUTTER NOW!” “….no butter.” There is a meltdown in my kitchen. The floor is covered in tears and a girl wearing just rubber boots, a pink velvet jacket, and underpants.

5 minutes later, I am trying to lay the 12 week old down for a nap when a big, green gym mat is pushed through the living room door. Aiden is dressed in a pink leotard. “Aiden, I’m trying to lay the baby down for a nap. Please don’t do that in here.” “Look….*thump* at me! *thump*” The room is positively shaking with the thunderous sounds of Aiden the gymnast hitting the mat. “Aiden, I’m putting the baby to nap. Take the mat to the other room. You don’t have to stop. It just can’t be in here.” Jump, smash, thump, crash. “MOM! Look. Look, mom. Mom. Look at me. Mom. Mom. Mom.” “AIDEN!” “What? Why are you so upset. Just look.” “*sigh* Aiden, let me help you move the mat.”

My life would be far less stressful, without her in it. My life might include nights out, without her in it. My life might be quieter, without her in it.

But my life WOULD be more boring without her in it. My life WOULD have less glitter and sunshine without her in it. My life WOULD be missing all the wonder without her in it. My life wouldn’t be MY life, without her in it.


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