#346569 added May 11, 2005 at 3:15pm Restrictions: None
The soul itself can speak
I love when he sits in the car seat in the back of Oz, our green Taurus, and claps along when I play Guster on the radio.
But I hate when he refuses to eat and then screams and cries and tries to lead me over to the chocolate or the soda or something junky that I don't want him to have. It's not like I can reason with him at all, or even communicate anything really at all, and he doesn't understand, and I get frustrated beyond belief....
But I love how he will lift my shirt to blow raspberries on my tummy and dissolve into giggles...
And I love when he first sees me at the end of the school day, when I walk in to pick him up...how his face lights up all boyish & bright & happy.
But I hate when he rips at my bra to try to get to my breasts so he can touch and hold them. I nursed him for 15 months and he's still a "boob" man -- he is very comforted by holding one of my breasts... I need to wean him from this but it's so convenient as a quieting/calming device that I loathe to do it completely -- and how the hell am I supposed to anyway? If I am using both hands to pick him up and I have a t-shirt on, how hard is it going to be for him to just slip a hand in there just like he always does? Am I supposed to walk around with turtlenecks on? Maybe I'll wait until fall and then do just that!
I love when he is delighted by a game of "maaaaaaaama's goooonnnna get-you get-you getchoo!" and he shrieks and laughs and takes off running so I can chase him....
But I hate that he can't look at me and say "Mommy, I love you."
I hate even more that he may never be able to.
But I love when he tells me without words -- with kiss after sweet little innocent kiss, and hugs, and laughter, and the thing inside each of us that transcends communication itself --
-- eyes meet eyes and something of the soul itself can speak!
"Whenever I'm caught between two evils, I take the one I've never tried."
~ Mae West (1892 - 1980)
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