“You don’t have to own that, DON’T own that,” a therapist admonished me when I poured out how I felt when my children dumped on me for what others had done to them. How they want to make me pay for the sins of others, how they truly want me to physically feel their pain.

“Detach, “ I’ve been advised by many professionals, and I’ve learned to do that to a great extent, so great at times that I wonder if I can come back to attach.

I’ve just stared back while a child escalates, wanting me to hit them like everyone else has done, and wanting to force the same reaction they once received from birth parents. I’ve even done grocery lists in my head, or planned another garden bed…should I divide the daylilies or is there not enough sun there? Hmmm, while walls are being kicked and bad words are gushing out of their mouths. “I HATE you; I wish you’d never have adopted me!”

Like you’d still be with your birth siblings, I want to retort, but usually don’t.

They calm down, they even apologize, ugly words once spewed out can’t be sucked back in, but they can be ignored, realizing that it isn’t about me anyway.

I get up some days…am I walking on broken glass or is that just eggshells? Or who finger-painted brown smears in the hallway…eeuuuww that’s not paint.

But then some afternoons I find love notes taped to the coffee pot, “Mama I love you sooo much! You’re the best mama in the world!”

Well act like it, I want to retort, but usually don’t.

Or someone fetches me more coffee, helps in the kitchen without being asked, brings me their dirty laundry instead of stuffing it under their bed…it’s the little things that get me through the days.

My sons have hauled wood chips for my gardens, dug many deep holes for the roses, helped weed out the dadgum Bermuda grass, and kept me company while I’ve worked out my own frustrations, furiously weeding, raking, spading dirt or whatever.

My daughters check on me, help me out beyond belief, and emotionally support me through some very tough times often before I’ve even thought to ask.

So I keep on going, up and down, all around, trying to navigate this maze like my kids and all y’all.