In the interest of not writing about his EVERY misdeed, I haven’t mentioned that lately, EVERYday has been a battle. His behavior has me pulling out my hair and questioning my parenting (and my sanity.) I haven’t mentioned that every night, bedtime has become a battle. I haven’t mentioned that at 2 AM one morning, after three hours of fighting him to stay in his brand new big boy bed, Tate put his crib back together.
I also haven’t mentioned that it bothers him that I get angry. “You happy now, Mommy?” he’ll ask with his eyes wide and brows furrowed in worry.
I haven’t mentioned the guilt that I feel when he yells, knowing that he learned yelling from me.
I haven’t mentioned that he comes up to me, spontaneously and says, “Mommy. I love you so much!” and buries his head in my knees, wraps his arms around my legs and hugs me until I nearly fall over.
I’ve never mentioned his love of chocolate pudding and how it can diffuse even the most volatile tantrum.
I don’t think I’ve ever written about when he’s sleepy, and he holds his teddy bear up to his nose and sniffs. (His butt. Go figure.)
Carson and I have started having the most amazing conversations while laying on his bedroom floor looking up at the ceiling. We discuss important topics like how Thomas got fish in his boiler, which makes us laugh and laugh. He can nearly tell me the entire story of Grover and the Everything in the Whole Wide World Museum from memory, even telling me what belongs in the “things that are heavy” room.
I look at Carson and sometimes I just want to tackle him…with love and kisses. Reaching, I touch him, trying to soak up his very existence. I know that one day, he’ll be twelve and embarrassed by me, or sixteen and driving away, or eighteen and moving away to college.
I want to remember all the wonderful things about my son. This blog, this memoir really, is the only tangible reminder I’ll have of his childhood. This memoir is also an exercise in self-reflection. I want to be a better parent, I want to be a better disciplinarian. When I look at all that I’ve written about him, so often it’s negative.
Life and all it encompasses is not always full of joy and happiness, but it’s not all negative either. These words I write are just a fraction of him, as my baby, as a person. He’ll continue to challenge me everyday, but I hope I can be mindful enough to share his good days in addition to the days I’d rather forget.