From the front line

Sure. Just when I'm ready to send you off to boarding school, you go and remind me how freaking adorable and precious you are.

Alright, so maybe not boarding school... but I may have glanced at the calendar today (more than once) to see how many weeks left til you start preschool.

We had a rough day today. Even before leaving the house for the children's museum, which you really wanted to visit, you had decided to be difficult. Didn't want to sit on the toilet. Didn't want to get dressed. I was ready to leave without you! When you wouldn't cooperate and behave at the museum, I told you we'd leave. So we did. I carried your screaming, thrashing body to the car, where we sweat it out in the sweltering humidity til you settled down enough to get into your car seat. You just wanted to go back to the museum.

Oh well. There's always next time.

I think we're having a power struggle, you and I. We're figuring out how to work things, the two of us. Daddy isn't around as much now that he's busy with his new job. We'll figure it out. It's an adjustment for all of us. You're testing me out, and I just need to lay down the law.

After you refused to nap, I eventually brought you downstairs where we had a few more battles. After you cooled off with a time-out, an amazing thing happened.

You wandered into the kitchen where I was working and found the toy train we bought you on vacation. It was broken. I accidentally dropped it the other day, and it broke. Cheapo-made-in-China-piece-of-crap toy. I didn't have the heart to tell you I had broken it. But you found it under a pile of stuff on the table. I'd meant to ask your father to try and fix it.

You weren't the least bit upset when you saw that your brand new train was broken. You asked if we could get another one, but when I said that we couldn't, since it came from a far-away store, you weren't phased one bit. There were no tears. You just rolled with it. You played with the carcass of the train and its pieces and parts for a long time. With all of your usual focus and intensity, you made the pieces talk to each other.

"Hey cow catcher! Let's get some wheels!"

"OK! I'm going to paint you!"

"Alright! Let's go!!"

I worked at the sink while you played, and I watched you in complete awe. If it had been a young me whose brand-new toy was broken, I'm sure I'd have thrown a fit. No doubt there would have been tears. But you just went with it. You improvised and made the best of the situation.

Sometimes you are the most easy-going and imaginative kid. I never tire of watching you and listening to you play. You're smart as a whip, creative, strong-willed and incredibly sensitive. You remind me so much of your Daddy. And I know you're going to grow into an amazing man, just like him.

Even when you pitch a fit and I pull my hair out, I would still walk across hot coals for you in an instant. Who else would sit down with me and watch a bad movie at the end of a rough day, just to bop to its music?

You always remind me that tomorrow's a new day.

Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety. Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in. Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. This new day is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays.
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Comments

[Jill]

I love this post! Thank you for sharing!

[vw bug]

You put into words how I feel... thank you!

[Sarcasmom]

Awesome post Marie. I love the quote. You summed it al up in East Norriton when you said " aren't little boys great?"

[Melody]

*sob sob* Great post Marie. I love being fascinated with my little one too...

[BreadBox]

Aren't they like that though? Boo turns 5 in November, and she is so poised and wonderful 83% of the time. That remaining 17%? And Skibo, who'll be 3 in eight days time is halfway between cherub and professional-wrestler-in-training!
Michele sent me today! I'll be back to visit again, though: it looks like an interesting place....
N.

[Michele]

Oh Marie, this is not a mere blog post, this is an open love letter to your son.

There are moments when I witness the love a Mother has for her child and my heart fills with joy. There are other moments when I witness the love a Mother has for her child and my heart breaks that I was never a mother. You just offered me the former and the fact that I will now focus on his tantrum will protect me from the latter.

What a truly beautiful and moving post! Hugs...

[Bluegrass Mama]

Beautiful post, Marie. And when he hits the pre-teen years, e-mail me. Because I'm THIS close to evaluating all those boarding schools.

[Jody]

Terrific post! I can't even add anything...

[Barbara]

It's obvious you love him.

[kristi]

Oh Marie, such an amazing post. God, there are days when I've truly contemplated running away from home to due exhaustion and frustration and not knowing how to make Isabella stop whining for 3 seconds. But when I sit back and watch her play, as you did, it brings home to me that being a mom (with ALL that entails, both good and bad) is the absolute best thing that ever happened to me.

And I love that Emerson quote too.