Monday, November 18, 2002


I was sitting at work when this song came on. If you can�t hear it you might not have the right plug in or most likely I screwed up the whole process. At any rate, its Tracey Lawrence �I see it now�.

When The Boy was very little it was �our� song. He would look up at me lovingly and say �Dance Mommy?� and I would pick him up and we would twirl around the kitchen, living room or parking lot (wherever we happened to be at the time) and I would sing to him. It was times like that that kept the little monster alive.

Now I sit here thinking of it and my eyes mist. Where does the time go? He won�t dance in a parking lot with me anymore but he does in the living room and never fails to say �love ya� before saying good-bye, even if his friends are around. I don't� care what anyone says, I think he turned out all right.

My sister said something to me the other day about how I �treat� my son. She thinks that the way I speak to him will scar him later in life. I thought on this, and later that night I sat down with my son and we talked about it. I told him my sisters concerns and asked him how he felt. Well, he looked at me like I was a nut bar freshly escaped from the loonie bin.

As soon as I saw that look I laughed. I realized that what my sister hears is how I talk to him in her presence (typically a couple hours every two or three months) and usually after he has pestered me for half an hour on when we are leaving. My son has a tendency to show off and be a pest when we visit her or when she visits me. He is usually stuck to me like a cheap suit so I can�t really have a meaningful conversation with my sister. At which point I get irritated and send him packing.

So now I sit back and write this. How do I explain how we are when we are alone. I never really sat and analyzed it. I just take it for granted.

We never part company without saying �Love Ya� and that goes for phone conversations. After work we always sit on the couch and discuss our day. I listen to his music and he tolerates mine and sometimes we discover that we like some of the same music like Aerosmith and Ozzy Ozbourn. On the weekends we watch movies while curled up on the couch. I know that every single part of his body is ticklish as he knows that only my feet and neck are. Even though he is almost 12 he still enjoys the �tickle monster� (a slumbering beast (me) that, when disturbed, wakes to tickle him till he screams �uncle�) Sometimes we just �take off� and go for long drives and talk. He never goes to sleep without me tucking him in and kissing him. This certainly doesn't cover everything, but you get the picture.

Since he was a baby it has been just the two of us. I guess we relate to each other differently because of it. We are buddies. I had to be both mother and father. I did all the mother things (taking care of him when he is sick, making sure he eats right, brushes his teeth etc) as well as all the "dad" things (teaching him how to hit a baseball, how to spit, and how to defend himself) We can talk to each other, not just as mother and son, but as equals too.

How do you explain to someone that the snippets of conversation that they hear isn�t the whole picture? You know what? In the grand scheme of things �they� really don�t matter. My son knows that I love him, that is what matters. I shouldn�t (and don�t) give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks.

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