DECEMBER 10, 2021: “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough!” …

This Diary entry wasn’t planned for today, yet here I am writing it at just before midnight. You see, I’d been lounging around in my pajamas all day (well at least that was the plan), and by “lounging” I mean I was taking a three-minute break from my hell-bent FURY to finish the “Christmasing” of Williamson Manor. “SURPRISE! Mommy Christmased!” is one of her favorite days of each year, and since she’d been at her dad’s for a few days I’d decided it was NOW or never! I’m not gonna lie, I usually start this gig the week before Thanksgiving, so at this stage in the game I’m, like, three weeks behind, so a three-minute nap it was! Never the worry, though, because once I’m finally finished, I’ll be keeping this place decked out in lights and trimmings until probably the middle of March. Wow! Did I digress already? Go figure!

Meanwhile, it was half past noon when I finally sat down to have my second cup of coffee and prop up my hooves for a minute. Gone are the days of my energy and youth when I could transform the castle into North Pole 2.0 in the 24-hour Mrs. Clause Of It All streaks of the past. These days, “Christmasing” is now a week-long, somewhat harrowing event that literally breaks my back. Now, instead of pushing myself to whip up a holiday extravaganza with a magic wand I no longer have, I opt to take my time and just, “Do a little today. Do a little tomorrow. OMG, I need to rest for a minute! OMG, I’m about to pass out! OMG, I need some more coffee! OMG, I keep getting distracted! OMG, what’s on TV? OMG, I have something to blog! OMG, WHY DOES IT TAKE ME SIX DAYS TO WHIP THIS HOUSE INTO WINTER WONDERLAND?” But OMG I’ve digressed AGAIN!

The next thing I know, a text arrives from the princess. “Hey momma” is always a cue that she’s either about to ask me for something or tell me that she needs me for something very important. Trust me when I tell you that because my Mona Lisa is even more resilient and independent than her dear old phoenix of a mom could ever dream to be, she isn’t one to ask for much unless she really has no other choice. Keep in mind, too, that she’s not one to complain about anything that’s physically ailing her unless or until she’s all but keeling over, so when she says the words “it’s hurting really bad”, that means that something truly is “hurting her really bad”.

Truth be told, she hadn’t even finished sending the second and third parts of her text message before I was already headed to my closet to get my purse and keys. I was literally at her school parking lot less than 30 minutes later dressed to the nines in my rattiest Christmas pajamas and favorite little falling apart slippers with duct tape patching a hole on one of the bottoms.

My point in all this being …

How blessed am I to be in this place where virtually everything I do is not only because of her, but fully revolved around and for her? My fortunate position in life is never lost on me, and there isn’t a moment that passes by that I am not aware of the fact that not every widowed single mom is afforded this luxury. As I was speeding to the school in my pajamas and slippers, I was literally, and not metaphorically, thanking the king profusely for having taken care not leave us in any more of a mess than he did at the onset of his leaving and making damn good and sure that his many wishes for not just her, but me, as her mother, as well, would remain true even in his absence. Be I any other widow on any other day, I may not have been able to just drop EVERYTHING, hop in my beautiful car, and focus on my daughter full-time, and have a single care in the world otherwise.

I know, I know! If you’ve been around this Diary enough, you’ve already heard me say it before, but please let me say it again … I am truly the most blessed living queen on the face of this planet, God’s favorite daughter, and one very extremely lucky woman. It’s days like today that only deepen my propensity to not only honor, but revel in only the best parts of his legacy and leave out all the rest.