DruBlood
Home
Dramatis Personae
Archives
Contact
Feed the Bleed
Amazon wish list
Cole’s birthday - 10/24
Monk’s birthday - 12/2
Dru’s birthday - 1/5
Search
Archives
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007
August 2007
July 2007
June 2007
May 2007
April 2007
March 2007
February 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
February 2005
January 2005
December 2004
November 2004
October 2004
September 2004
August 2004
July 2004
June 2004
May 2004
April 2004
March 2004
February 2004
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
October 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
May 2003
April 2003
March 2003
July 2002
June 2002
May 2002
Special thanks
adam host
julie template queen
kd general lusciousness
pea guru
Powered byMovable Type 1.5
« Grateful Five | Main | Griffith Park Fires »
My Boys, The Twits, and Me.
May 21, 2007
It's funny. I will have weeks and weeks with my boys, feeling like I have done everything wrong as a parent and I can't possibly keep doing this...and then there is a day like today, when I realize that I have actually somehow managed to give two boys a good start towards leading fully compassionate, empathic lives.
I have had a rough day...a rough weekend, kind of, in ways that are difficult to explain. Just a lot of unpleasant, unwelcome, and unproductive self-examination. The boys were at their dad's all weekend, and when they came home this morning, I just thought "Oh, fuck. I am just not cut out for this job today."
But I did what I know best to do...distract them. Hahaha. I took all of our various portable media devices out with us for an early morning exploration walk, and then we stopped at the park and I tried not to cry my eyes out from exhausted sadness while the neighbor lady played hide and seek with Monk and her kids, and Coley made me various "poisonous" concoctions from sand in the sandbox.
In spite of my gratitude for both of these things, I was still feeling like crap. And, of course, when I feel like crap and I am trying to parent...I feel like double, triple, exponentially compounding crap because, on top of all of the other shit I feel like I am doing a crappy job of, parenting goes to the top of the list because, damn, I just can't get it together to have fun and enjoy my babies for a bit.
Well, I muddled through, trying to be honest with them about how I'm feeling, without putting too much responsibility on them for causing and/or relieving my upset.
There are little snippets throughout the day, though...I know they know when I am down. Coley thrusts plucked wildflowers at me...Monk gives me a rare hug. They argue less...not out of fear, but out of empathy. It's nice. It's really nice.
By story time tonight, I was feeling much better, thanks to a couple of good friends and some time spent at an event that moved me out of my selfish self-pity, as well as viewing an exhibit that inspired me artistically and politically.
We are reading the twits...and we were at the chapter where they Dahl describes Mrs. Twit, thusly:
If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until it gets so ugly you can hardly bear to look at it.
Coley interrupts me here...he says "Mom, do you ever have ugly thoughts?"
I'm thinking "Good fucking lord, kid...ALL FREAKING DAY! And then some." Because damnit if I'm not worried that if Mr. Dahl is correct, I am about to sprout a couple of disgusting boils on my face. But I respond "Well, honey...I think everyone has bad thoughts sometimes."
Coley examines my face for a minute, and we both turn back to the book. I continue reading:
A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts, they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.
Cole looks at me again. "Mom," he says. "You must think good thoughts all of the time, because I think you are beautiful."
And this makes me so happy that I forget to point out that this is a rather simplistic way to introduce the complexities of emotional make-up to small children. In fact, I don't point out anything at all. I just smile, hug both of them closer, and continue reading.
Thank fucking maude for my boys, is all I have to say. Thank fucking maude. I am so not worthy of them.
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://mt.riceweevil.com/tb/15173