I had a rough day. The kids were....oh my gosh. It happens. I was jealous of my kidless friends. Jealous they get to go hiking and traveling and out on dates and jet-setting. I didnt want my kids anywhere near me when they were ready for bed and I made that very clear to them. Out of necessity, I gave in and laid with Libby to get her to fall asleep. She ignored my bad mood and warmly chatted with me about having her tonsils out and what her fears will be. I could feel my furrowed brow soften even if I still had only gruff short replies to offer, trying not to engage in a long conversation assuming this was her attempt to stay up later. At one point, despite my protest, she reached over and wrapped her arms around my neck. What are you doing!? I asked annoyed that she was touching me. This is how I like to say Im sorry. she replied. I held back a tear and hugged her back, feeling too shallow to really soak in that moment. I didnt have any place for it to go. Like water on rocks...it touched me but didnt sink in. After drawing the alphabet on her back, I could tell from her breathing pattern that she was asleep. I leaned over and whispered, Im sorry too in her ear. Somewhere I believe she hears me in those moments...of which there have been a few. Hundred. It was time to tackle Charlie, who I had kicked out of the room for being too wound-up to fall asleep 20 minutes earlier. I went downstairs to find him helping his dad cleaning the garage. He had one black croc on his left foot, a saggy stinky diaper and an old rubber ball that he was beaming about. Ball! Ball! He looked so proud. And besides, ball, is like, the only word he knows. Unimpressed, I quipped: Yeah yeah...cmon...you need to go to bed. I took care of the shoe and the diaper, but he wasnt letting go of that dirty ball that had been collecting dust and god-knows what else under the utility shelves for the past several years. Whatever. I didnt care enough to care. We laid down to nurse...ball in hand...and he tossed and turned to get comfortable with his new appendage. It was annoying and again my mind drifted to pictures I saw earlier of my brother, April, Calvin and Maria hiking in glorious Portland, Oregon. Ive been there. Id love to be there again. But Libby has school and her tonsillectomy and Id need to get a sitter and arrange for rides and then who would take care of everything at home.... I could feel my annoyance rising, compounded by the fact that I had a barnacle attached to my boob with a ball attached to his hand. I tried a few times to escape his vacuum tight seal but he would protest. I tried tossing the ball, knowing that his insistence on holding it was keeping him awake, but he was hell-bent on sleeping with it. Finally I decided to stand up and sway around with him like we did when he was an infant. Oh...who am I kidding...like we did last week, and the week before that and a few weeks before that. (Yeah, Laura, Ive still got my kids in my bed...that picture of them in their own room was apparently just a photoshoot to them. It lasted about 2.5 nights.) So, anyhow, Im walking around holding him thinking how heavy he is and how tired I am. And he starts singing. Some random blah-blah babbles he makes up to a tune that goes nowhere. But to him, he knows exactly what it means and what hes trying to convey and his voice rises and falls and gets more intense and trails off. Hes got his eyes closed and his head tilted back and hes just singing away like a drunk at the end of the night next to Billy Joel at the keys belting out Piano Man... My kid is singing to me. Just as I was going to let myself get emotional, he stops, wipes his boogers on my shirt one last time, takes a big breath in, sighs it out, and relaxes into my embrace. I nuzzle in to kiss him. You know...that kiss where you really want to bite them because you love them so much and you realize that motherhood has somehow made you understand cannibalism? Yeah...that kiss. He mumbles...Mama...and drops the ball. And suddenly, I was jealous of no one.
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 08:52:36 +0000
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