Friday, May 8, 2009

Big Words

I hate you
he said.

(I had said no after all
No we can not go to the playground.)

I hate you,
and I don't love you too.

That was clear.

It hurt.

I thought I had eight more years before we had to navigate that one.

Then, in the car on the way home from
"baseball practice "
(aka t-ball introduction)
(which is next to the playground)
he informs me through
mouthfuls of pb&j
that the reason he yelled
(oh, and kicked me twice, and hit me in the head
with his mit)
was because he was hungry.
very, very, hungry.

As happy as I am that my son
connects his blood sugar
to his mood
I still could have done without it

that I hate you line
was still rubbing under my skin
pushing my heart
beats harder and closer
to the surface

later that night I realized
that the card we had written
to his birth mother
and mailed right before
practice might
have been more at play
then a missed opportunity to go down a slide backwards

Sam, it is OK to be angry and love her
all at once I say in a cuddle on the

Would I be mad at
her because
she has three
kids and not
me growing up
with them too?

I hurt all over again,
but this time for him,
and for

Yes, I think I would feel sad and mad
if I were you.
And I would love her
because she chose to bring us
together for everyday
and always too

Can we read a story now? he asks his
voice big and ready for something new

Yes, and Sam I love you.

I don't not love you anymore too mom.


No comments: