Thom came home from school yesterday in a foul mood. He whined. He sassed. And when he slammed the refrigerator door I snapped. I grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “You have been a beast since the minute you got in the car. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’ll tell you what!”, he said, because he talks just like me. “I’ll tell you what’s the matter! I was playing soccer with Jake and Hayden and Jake kept making goals on me and Hayden was the coach and he kept saying good job to Jake and laughing at me and I felt really mad and then Hayden made a trophy for Jake out of an orange cone and he gave it to him. AndIfeltlikeIwasn’tnanybody. And I wanted to cry and I almost did but then I soaked it up because I didn’t want to cry. Cuz’ that’s embarrassing. So I just soaked it up.”
People. I’m thirty-seven years old, but I can tell you right now that I wanted to go kick that little Hayden’s butt. By the flag pole. Old school, play yard style.
This is motherhood. It’s passionate love and excruciating vulnerability. It’s letting another human being carry a piece of your heart around. Come what may.
Thom used to think he was the coolest thing happening. He oozed self esteem. These days he’s “soaking” up other people’s crap. He’s swallowing what they tell him.
I want to shake it out of him. I want to scream “YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!” But he’s a boy. And that’s soooo not cool. And moms don’t know. They are just moms.
So yeah I kinda hate mother’s day. I don’t need everyone to be nice to me for one day. I don’t want pancakes in bed or fuzzy slippers.
Don’t buy me a corsage. Get me a sword and shield to fight a safe path to lead my kids through this life.
I told Thom I know how he feels. I told him sometimes people are mean and it’s important to remember what it feels like so you will never treat anyone unkind.
I did not tell him that “kind” never defines mother bears, and Hayden better watch out.