26. Siege

Dear London Fire Snake Scorpio,

Hello, my heart. I used the thought of you today again to get myself moving. It’s a holiday, and I woke up with absolutely no energy to do anything. I woke from sleep in that state of lethargy beyond tired, but somewhat pleasant for it. When your mind wakes, but the body is still sleeping. I felt your arms around me, spooning me, your chest pressing to my back. Your wide shoulders pressing against mine.

I did not want to wake. I fought to stay with you in that dreamland between sleep and awake for long minutes, clawing at the sensation of your skin against mine, your heartbeat, your breath.

But then Piggy found herself in my bed. The first 10 minutes were all hugs, kisses, and giggles. Then the boundary testing started — stage one was verbal assault. She tried inappropriate words (my kids are deep in the potty jokes stage, unfortunately), to which, of course, she did not get any response. Unlike their father, I do not care how many times and in how many languages they say the words poop and pee.

When that didn’t work, she escalated to personal assault — she said she wished for a different mom because I am sick all the time, that she doesn’t like William, and she will throw him into the toilet, and more pearls like that. I did not react, but I took deep breaths, and I wished to disappear back into the dream, and your arms were a hard temptation in my heart.

Finally, when that didn’t work, she started tickling me with targeted precision to touch all the private places that she knows she is not allowed to touch another human. This is where I got out of bed and fled to the kitchen before I blow on her. And that was 7 am.

I am not sure what I am doing wrong and why my children are on a campaign to drive me insane, but I swear I felt under siege today. Stallion woke up with a fever, was treated and felt better, and did not shut his mouth for one damn second. The never-ending “six-seven” chant, the poop jokes, the constant bickering with the girls.

Drago was coming at me from all directions today. One moment, we are having a nice conversation, and everything is ok; the next, she starts poking at me with viciousness and precision that only a damn dragon is capable of. An example? Talking back in general, or the baby remark.

One of them asked me whether, when we meet, we will have another child. I tried to answer, but the debate among the four grew heated as each offered their own opinion. Eventually, Drago turns to me and says, “You are not going to have another kid, right, Mom?” — “What makes you say that?” I asked, “Because you can’t handle it.” She jokes.

The same as with Piggy’s remark, I felt the damn knife straight to the heart. I know they don’t mean it, and they are kids, but boy, do these MFs know where to hit.

Wolfy and I had another day of mostly progress. She told me she is always stressed and doesn’t know how to relax today. She said that everyone always ignores her, except me, and she gets scared when I am not around. I did my very best today, and I was mostly there for her today. Though it is not easy to soothe a child that is overcompensating for years of neglect now and is bursting into bitter tears over every. Damn. Thing.

And then, there is the holiday itself. So, at lunch, after I served the soup (Remember the Lobscouse? Well, I made a different soup from the leftovers yesterday, and today I made the leftovers of that soup into poached salmon and parsnip soup, so basically the crockpot was working 3 days in a row. Very cool. I eventually made a 4th upscale of it and blitzed it into gravy for the chicken in the evening.) I asked the kids if they wanted us to still have the feast for the holiday. They said yes or no, but it was clear to me that I am dropping the ball if I don’t.

I wanted to cry. Seriously. I did NOT want to do it. So I put on some Andy Grammer and started the dishes, and as I do, I was thinking of these letters and of you, and decided I was going to make the table just so I could take a picture and show you. That was enough to get me moving. Slowly, but still moving.

As planned, I roasted a chicken, made potato “fries” in the oven, and had olives, pickles and pickled beets on the table. Some fish. Tomato pesto, Waldorf, beans, corn, mandarins (we were out of canned lentils), and Tzatziki. By the time I was supposed to make the cabbage salad, I had a hard time containing the inner scream and started snapping at the kids.

So I turned on the TV and went to lie on the bed, I needed to cry. Every single mother knows how to cry soundlessly, but I had that specific horrible skill since I was a kid. I told you, in my parents’ house, tears were considered a great weakness, and I was teased mercilessly by everyone for them. So I learned to cry in an invisible way. I would go to my bed bunk — I slept on the top — and cried so quietly that my sister on the lower bunk knew nothing.

I cried a little. Fell asleep with emotional exhaustion, but I didn’t have more than 5 minutes of this blessed oblivion before they called me again to solve something. I don’t even remember what.

And so the wins today are the table, the holiday, and we even did some prayers. The connection repair work of Wolfy and me. The monitoring of Drago’s detox, the fever drop of Stallion and the tolerance, most times, to Piggy’s “whatever that is” mood. I also did 3 loads of dishes, cleaned up after the feast, and mopped the floor.

The misses include not finding time to train today, though I should have. I finally decided to train after the kids went to bed, but I am so tired I am positively dizzy, so I had to admit defeat on that one. I also blew on the kids several times today. When they started discussing “in yo mama” references (which is about where I draw the line), I told them that one more word like that at the table and I would leave. They did not listen. So I took my plate and went to eat at my office.

It took them about 10 minutes to regroup and apologize, but by then, I could not even taste what I was eating. I did, as I said, snap hard several times. Sigh. I’ll do better next time, I hope.

As for you… I missed you today in every breath. And I did take that image just to show you that I made it to the table. You were missed at that table today, my love. Here it is:

I hope your Tuesday was one full of doing things you love and meeting people who love you. I hope you sleep well.

I am so very tired. I can’t think straight. 
I miss you. I am dropping on the keyboard. 
We will talk tomorrow. 
With endless love, 
Always yours, 
Oxy. 
March 31, 2026.

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