The Truth Can Hurt

Posted on | August 25, 2014 | 1 Comment

When I first started this blog, J was just shy of five months old. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have verbalized thoughts and emotions. He didn’t know or care what I wrote here about him and about our lives together.

On Friday, my little five month old turned five years old.

Five.

A whole hand.

A jazz hand, as Jana’s boy said.

And at five, he cares entirely too much about what I write about him and say about him. He cares so much about what people think of him, how he is perceived, how he can make sure he isn’t embarrassed. And I wish I could say that I have no idea where he got all of that, but I know it was passed down to him in the blood we share.

You guys… it breaks me. It cuts and shatters my heart that he cares so very, very much about such silly, silly things.

For his birthday, one of my co-workers gave him a Batman costume and he LOVES it. He put it on yesterday afternoon and came running in to where Banks and I were sitting to show it off. Unfortunately, I was just about to head to the grocery store and he really didn’t want to take off the costume. So, I told him he could wear it.

Because OBVIOUSLY he could wear it.

It was awesome and adorable.

He happily climbed into the car and buckled in and we drove to Publix. When we got there, he happily got out of the car and proudly walked across the parking lot, dressed as Batman.

The first couple coming out of the store smiled at him and the guy said “Alright, yeah! Batman!”

And my son visibly crumbled.

The guy said nothing wrong but all of a sudden, J was fully aware of what he was wearing and that no one else was wearing it. It was like this stranger handed him the forbidden fruit and suddenly J believed there was something wrong with him… just the way he was.

We cut the trip short because he was on the verge of tears, asking me why I’d let him wear that out in public, why I’d let him be embarrassed like that.

And he’s five.

As I tucked him back into his carseat and we headed home, I realized that my son is not just mine, he is also his. And what I choose to write about MY son, is also and always about HIM, too.

I will often be a source of embarrassment for my child without meaning to be. I will probably be a source of embarrassment for him because I’m full on trying to be.

But I will never let this space become an embarrassment for my son.

He’s five…. not five months and from here on out, the words I say may be used against him, even when I don’t mean them to be. I want to be real and honest and tell you about what we struggle with in my house… but it’s also his house. And sometimes even when we wish it wouldn’t…

Sometimes the truth hurts.

So there will be bouts of silence here while we struggle to come to grips with our new reality of reading and school and life with each other and Banks. There will be bouts of silence when I long to write about how we are struggling… but his life is now more than just mine to share… and it’s up to him, not me, what face he chooses to show the world.

Comments

One Response to “The Truth Can Hurt”

  1. Roxanne Piskel
    August 28th, 2014 @ 5:30 pm

    It’s tough to know where to draw the line on what I post, what I say. Now T is old enough that he kind of knows about my blog and I receive him permission before posting ANY pictures of him on social media. He approves his pictures and his stories. Because although he is my son and these are my memories, they are also his. And I love that you notice that about J and are trying to respect his self within the world of Internet and social media. He’ll learn to responsible when he has his own Twitter (or whatever is popular in those days!) or blog (maybe?) from how you treat it. Good job, mama!

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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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