Revenge will be mine.

Sometime around year 46 of your life, reality sets in.
You are no longer comforted by the joy of denial.

You will be struck harshly by this truth.
Sort of like, running into a pole as your head is
turned. It hurts like hell and you are mortified
that you were so stupid.
Yet, there it is. There's no denying the mark it left.
It's probably a permanent scar.

At times the scar wont bother you.
You'll find comfort in the fact that you
made it through. You will stroke the scar
lovingly and remember the good times.
You may even be so foolish as to wish
to begin again. Should this happen,
you are urged to immediately seek counseling
at your local mental health institution.

I was told early on that this would be a lifetime commitment.
I was an idiot not to listen to those words fully.
LIFETIME. But, Maybe no one said the actual truth.
That not only the awe and wonder would last for
all my life, but the worry and stress would too.

Or maybe I just refused to listen.
It all made such sense then.
A baby, a bundle of joy, a tiny life I made.
My God what miracles we are able to create.
I signed up for all of it gladly.
They make them so darned cute too.
It's all a plot to reel you in and make you want one.
Or three.

Before you bash me, let me say…
I have lived each day to give all I can.
The best of everything was never good enough.
Not for my babies. And they in return showered me
with love. I will never forget that feeling.
Yes it continues to this day and I know it always will.

But…Now… well now,
I just want another kind of shower.
In quiet. Silence is essential to me now.
As is walking about naked without wondering
which child and how many friends may see me.
The reflection perfectly aligned with my
bedroom mirror and bath betrays the need for privacy.
One only needs to stand in my doorway to get a clear
shot of my 46 year old very white ass.

You will want to believe that they will one day
leave home, to return someday with a spouse in tow.
That they will eventually need the hand me down
dishes and various other household goods you saved.
That they will one day drive YOU to the store,
or buy you a meal. You will dream all of it.

Before any of it happens, you will be very old.
The attic may cave in from the weight of saved objects.
The garage will no longer have room for a car.
Your washing machine will forever be filled with wet
day old clothes someone forgot to dry.
Bathroom mirrors will be littered with toothpaste
spatters and other things I dare not imagine.

There will be no snacks, no drinks with carbonated
content in your home. Your friends who only now
wish for a child will never understand why there is
a special place. A hiding place all you own.
For jewels and riches? No. Don't be silly.
This space is for those things that keep you sane.
Cheetos of your own and Chocolate they can not touch.
And maybe an anxiety pill or two just in case.

For all you would be hopeful parents.
Yes it is magical. Yes it is a joy.
It is also the most difficult thing you will do.

And yet, one day, like me;
You too will long for Grandchildren.
To hold those lives your own child created.
But also, In part as revenge to your own kids.
To spoil them and then send back home
with very noisy toys.
I cant wait.