No. I will not share my crackers/diet coke/fruit/cookie/pasta/carrot sticks/any other thing that I’ve chosen to consume/enjoy with you. And stop touching it when I run to pee/into the wine store/answer my phone/turn my back/any other distraction that inevitably comes up 9-17 times in the course of one small moment. And, no I am not being selfish.
I don’t need to share with you to learn how to share. You all need to share to learn how to share. I am utterly exempt from this rule. I have learned to share in the most sacrificial, superior way to any sharing you will ever do ever with anybody, including sex, until if and when you become a parent. And boys, even then? I’ll still know sharing more intimately than you ever will.
Because from the moment you were all conceived, I have shared everything. Everything about myself, my most inner self, including my innards themselves. You took up residence. I shared every meal, every vomit, every day, night, every rare moment of sex, until I shared so much of my body that I totally gave you certain things, like my slimmer hips, and innie belly button. And the those ab muscles that run vertically down from my sternum and if not for the miracle of plastic surgery, would never ever ever go back together again, because for you? I let them go and split in two. I shared my skin, and muscle and tissue layers to let them cut in and pull you out. I gave you my unblemished, young, smooth skin. And I was happy to do it. Because I loved you before I knew you.
I then shared my breasts to nourish you. I gave you my tender nipples to gnaw and shred, and to make bleed, and then gave them to you some more, because you needed comfort when you were not even hungry. I shared my bed, shared the lasts semblance of sanity to hold you, rock you, cajole and sing to you in the middle of dark night after dark night when you would not sleep. I shared my husband in order for him to learn to be a good father and for you to grow to know and love him, when what I was desperately needing was time with him myself.
As you grew, I shared my energies and resources, making sure you had the right shoes, when I’d not bought a pair in years. I did it with a smile on my face because you are cuter in those shoes than I’ll ever be in the most expensive designer pair available. I shared my breaks away, even when you were not with me, because once you were born, I gave up my ability to actually ever not have you in on my mind or in my heart. I shared my brain power, reading Berenstain Bears for the thirteenth time, listen to how Pokeman works, why Ben Ten has that freaky power, and just how it is you love those little collectible Schleich animals and trying to remember all their names like Snow Ball, and Dancer, and Pinky Princess. I share enthusiasm I hardly have anymore for the seventh game of Uno in a row.
I share my soul, my experience, my wisdom, and unfortunately, my many, many weaknesses. I do this willingly, because I prayed to God for you, and know that you are one of this world’s, or any world’s deepest, greatest gifts. While I could never have known just how hard it would be, I asked for it and was blessed with the four of you as answer.
So for the love of Jesus, his mother Mary, his earthly father Joseph, the heavenly Father God, many of the apostles, and all the saints I don’t know the names of, do not ask me to let you paw my straw with your just picked up from school grubby fingers so that you might dribble streams of my rarely afforded diet Coke onto your ice dream. I don’t poop without conversations through the door, I don’t stand naked in my own bathroom without mediating some mess. Surely, this is not too much to ask.
But if it is, tough shit.