Flipping the Switch

Posted on | November 20, 2013 | 7 Comments

Last night, I was feeling pretty overwhelmed. Work was kicking my butt, my house was dirty, and my kid wasn’t listening for shit. He’d dropped a lunchable pizza on the sofa and there I was, on my hands and knees, scrubbing pizza sauce out of the fabric of my sofa and feeling like the world was just about to rain down brimstone on me and tell me it was hell.

My son crouched down beside me, trying to help but really getting in the way and I turned to snap at him to just. leave. me. alone. And then he smiled.

“I’m glad we’re doing this together, mom.”

He was all earnestness and four-year-old smiles, with pizza sauce on his hands and face that was, no doubt, spreading to the carpet and the rest of the sofa and yet the urge to snap at him just… disappeared. He was glad we were doing this together… this messy clean up job of a lousy dinner prepared by ripping open a box and slapping the contents on a plate. He was glad that I was there beside him, frustrated and frazzled and worn thin with all the living I was trying to do in the time I was given to do it. He was just glad we were doing all of this together.

I rocked back on my heels and blew my hair off my forehead with a sigh. Sitting the bottle of cleaner down beside me, I looked at my son… really looked at him. His hair is too long on the top and it musses up into strange shapes that are more cubes than curls. He has my dimple right up on the right side of his cheek below his eye and he has my way of thinking too much about maybe everything. He was grinning up at me, in pajamas that are inexplicably a size 5, with hands that are incredibly capable at cursive writing, and feet that just seem to get longer and more childlike with each step he takes away from baby. He’s getting so big now, so full of personality and life and a curious form of child-like wonder that is part wisdom and part whimsy and I love every stinking bit of him even when he puts me here, after a long day, scrubbing pizza off the sofa.

“I’m glad we’re doing this together, too, buddy,” I smiled, draping an arm around his ever-growing shoulders. And for a moment, or maybe a lifetime, I really and truly meant it.Even when I get it all wrong, even when I snap and reprimand and reach the end of my always frayed rope. Even when I’m tired of explaining, tired of punishing, tired of feeling like nothing I ever do is enough. Even when he eats Lunchables for dinner and pizza sauce gets everywhere. Even then. Even now.

I’m so very glad we’re doing all of this together.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Comments

  • Nellie

    It’s amazing how quickly they can take the angry wind out of your sails.
    It’s usually 3 hours into an evening of arguing, tattling and refusing to eat dinner that they come in and say, “I love you mommy” completely out of the blue, and then run away.

    • Law Momma

      Exactly!!!!! Kids.

  • http://goodgirlgoneredneck.blogspot.com Andrea B.

    Oh, how I love this post. You brought tears to my eyes. It’s so much truth. Those moments can be killer, and we feel so frazzled, but the truth is, the beauty in them can’t be replaced. Thanks for sharing.

    • Law Momma

      It’s true. You just never realize how beautiful the moments are right when they’re happening… we’re always too focused on everything WRONG.

  • Ylhoff

    I will go home tonight and hug my kid … and then do it again after he says “mom” for the 10th time because he can. Loved this!

    • Law Momma

      Me too! Thanks… :)

  • NJ @ A Cookie Before Dinner

    Oh my goodness, how I loved this post. I also have a four year old and sometimes he makes me WANT TO SCREAM with rage over accidents and not listening. But this is such a great reminder that he’s on the cusp of kidhood too!

  • Creative Commons License
    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at http://www.law-momma.com.



  • I'm a divorced, single mom to a pre-schooler, a full-time attorney, and a semi-reluctant vegetarian. I work hard and when given the chance, I play hard... but I'm almost never given the chance.

    I think fart jokes are funny, I'm pretty sure magic is real, and my life long dream is to buy a farm and write a novel while watching horses run around at a respectable distance. (Because horses are scary up close. Seriously.)

  • Twitter

  • Enter your email address:

    Delivered by FeedBurner

  •  



  • Grab my button for your blog!