Wow. I'm barely squeaking in with a March entry. So much for my weekly writings... It's not that things haven't been happening, going on, etc. - Stephen is doing remarkably well with his new teacher. He's still reading and has progressed to doing addition, which frankly blows my mind. But, for whatever reason, I just didn't feel inspired to write this stuff down. When I'd think about it, I'd feel this weird pressure to "produce," and this blog has never been about that. I figured when or if something needed to be said, I'd know. What follows falls into the "I've got to get this out or I'll lose it" category - nothing earth shattering here, just junk I need to vent.
So here we go.
Stephen and I got up at 2:00 a.m. (for the second time in less than a week). Well, HE got up then. I laid in bed and thought/hoped/prayed he'd just drift back to sleep. Finally, at 2:50, I realized that wasn't going to happen. I got up and checked him - his pajamas were wet, but the sheets were dry (hallelujah) so I got him changed into clean PJ's and headed for the couch.
He came and laid down with me, but only for a minute. Then he was off to his room to turn on the TV for the early morning video-go-round. If you're not familiar, the "video-go-round" is Stephen's preferred method of watching. It's simple. You put in a video, he watches for anywhere from 2 seconds to 15 minutes, then he unplugs everything and brings you another video. Repeat this process approximately 20 times. Now, the kid is charming (mostly) - he's using his words to explain what he wants to see..."Thomas and James...WATCH," for example. It's really cute.
It's not as cute at 4:00 a.m. though.
At around 4:30 he came into the living room where I was fitfully dozing, and said, "Ten Years of Thomas...WATCH," but then he started saying "Off." Now, usually that means he wants lights turned off. But since the room was dark I ascertained that he meant "On." That concept is still not clear to him. Anyway, I said, "No, buddy...it's still nighttime..." which brought on a sit-in on the living room floor, whining at increasingly high volume..."OFF!!!!" Finally, I broke. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Fight the battle and risk waking everybody else in the building up, or give in? I gave in. I marched around in a fury, turning on lamps and cursing under my breath..."He won't even BE in here, why should I do this? I have to do this or he'll freak out. I mean, he'll be in his ROOM for god's sake..." Then I turned to him, standing there in his baseball pajamas, shaggy haired and precious, and I ripped the video out of his hands, snarling. Joan Crawford would've been proud. My son, who cannot help waking up, who was being fairly pleasant, who has god knows what going through his head at any given time recoiled from me with a look of fear on his face. I hated myself just then. I hated what I was allowing to control me. I was just so damned mad at...something. All I wanted was a dark room so I could sleep for 5 minutes in between video changes...but then in that one moment, I was ashamed. I was mean, and there's no excuse.
After he recovered, he toddled down the hall to his room and waited for me to follow him and put in the tape. As I sat cross-legged on the floor, he came to me - no hesitation or fear - put his cold little hands on my face, and turned it gently so he could kiss me. And I thought I couldn't feel any lower...
I went back to the couch in the living room that was lit up like Times Square, and let myself go, just a bit. I needed to...it wasn't a loss of control, or letting my emotions run wild. It was simply acknowledging to myself that, while I strive at all times to be patient and loving, sometimes I'm going to fail. Most kids I know are pretty forgiving, and Stephen seems to be extraordinarily so. Not that he intellectually knows, as Kerry does, that sometimes Mom messes up...but somehow, he understands in his own way that Mama is mostly about love and hugs, not angry looks and frustration.
Soon enough it was 6:00 a.m. and time to get Kerry up so he could get to choir practice by 7:00 a.m. He is a classic sleepyhead, and came dragging in yawning, "I'm so SLEEPY!" Wouldn't you know it? Mommie Dearest reared her ugly head and growled..."Yeah? Well, try getting up at TWO A.M.!!!" with two fingers stabbing the air for emphasis. He peeked out from under the quilt and quietly said, "I'm sorry, Mom."
These kids of mine! They know how to get to me, you know?
I hugged him, apologized for being snappish, and all was well. I thought about staying home from work today, but at some point I shifted into morning mode, and didn't feel sleepy anymore. I'm fresh out of paid time off, so it's just as well that I made it in to work after all.
The sun is shining. It's going to be a rare springlike day here in the deep south. My kids made me proud today - they know I'm human and flawed, and they love me anyway. I can't ask for much more than that.
