I spent today (Mother’s Day) thinking about a lot – the fact that we’re moving tomorrow away from my own mother, and my mother-in-law, and all my friends who I have watched become mothers over the last 9-ish years…
Thinking about my own baby’s other mothers, the one who birthed him and fought tooth and nail for him and lost, the other one who had a lot of putting-back-together to do and who also fought tooth and nail for him and lost… and the other boys I’ve been mother to for 10 months or 3 weeks or 3 hours, and their mothers now.
My little man (who is so much more man-ish every day, not just in the way that his cheeks are thinning out and his pants are all suddenly capris and he is built like a pro wrestler. Mostly in the way that he gives the best trike to his cousin who is tired and not feeling well, and in the way that he stops whining and asks how he can help us get ready to move when Mommy is starting to get a little too stressed out. And in the way he has started to tell his own funny jokes and stories, not just repeating things he’s heard, and in the way he tells me repeatedly, every single day, how pretty I am and how I am the most important and I am a flower) feels more like MY little man than he ever, ever has.
Today in the car on the way to church we passed a park he went to once with my sister while I was at a meeting.
“I went to that park with Bonnie yesterday,” he said.
“You did, a while ago,” (it was at least 6 months ago…)
“I missed you, while I was at that park.”
“But I came back, right? Just like always?”
“Yeah. … I’m gonna be yours forever.”
I mean, I know, oooohhhhhh how sweeeeeeet you practically have diabetes now. And yet. It’s one thing to say it. It’s another thing to mean it-mean it, and know it’s actually legally happening, and have the judge decree it, and have the family and the witnesses, and to make a covenant. It’s altogether another thing to have him understand it to a level that he repeats it back to me, unsolicited. I know he doesn’t know what forever is. But this is something that in our family, we don’t take for granted.
We’re packing up a car tomorrow to head down to Houston. We’re leaving a lot (LOT [LOOOOOOT]) behind, and the weight of it is pretty intense. I have some pretty dadgum deep roots in this place. We’re going into a lot (LOT [LOOOOOOT]) of exciting new possibilities, and there is a huge part of me that is so thrilled.
I can’t yet fathom going weeks at a time without a Dad Bear Hug or having his arms radiate warmth from the next chair over during a frigid church service… or going weeks at a time without being able to just come crash down at my mom’s house and send the LM off with cousins and help myself to a drink and just chill for an hour or two… but I also have seen little tiny pieces of some pretty unbelievable humans down there in Houston and I can’t wait to get to know them as well as my dear, dear friends here. There’s a church that’s growing and moving and going and I have a role there, and I’m so excited to get my hands dirty.
The thing is, though, that along with the clothes and the junk and the crap and even our sweet Penny Pooch, two men (one little and one big) are going into that car, and down I-45.
It’s fun adding to the permanents. It’s an interesting thing that whatever I do, we do, from now on. That WE are going to miss OUR friends, WE are going to make new friends, WE are finding a house, WE are packing and unpacking, WE are getting used to new house-smells and house-sounds, WE are WE are WE are. It’s duh, but it’s also pretty incredible, when you think about it. That whatever I leave and whatever I enter, I do it with these two, and I absolutely cannot imagine it any other way. Nobody else I’d want more, in my roller coaster car.