It’s 8:07PM. You are cuddled in bed. Tonight is a big night because you get to watch “Chasing History,” which is some show about the 76ers and Knicks. I was smiling about Tyrese, so were you (jinxing when we said, “Coach Thomas”. I said he “would love it” and you said “needs to know about this”). #SouthGarlandHS
At dinner tonight, which was a rare night that I needed a night out, at 5:30, to avoid cooking dinner. By the way, I am privileged to remain able to take you to dinner, instead of mixing together the pantry staples…and, I know it.
But, at dinner, we had an interesting conversation. We’d just talked last weekend about your budget (for your allowance money). We’d also talked about expenditures around the house (some of which were due to your affinity for turning any flat surface into a basketball backboard). I mean, finances are tight. Not horribly so, but tight.
I was just about to blurt out, “Kid, let me tell you what it means to be a single mom” when I looked around the playground in front of us. I mean, I’d decided I was finally going to explain all the realities. What it mean that you broke our TV last week. What it meant that you wanted to do all the camps, all the stuff at Parish, that you basically ripped drywall plum off. I mean, I was going to break it ALL down.
But, kids. As per usual, kids. I saw them. Kids. Running around, doing serious stupid shit. One kid was hanging off a swing, from the top!, upside down. I mean, he’s going to the ER someday soon. Another kid was eating something he’d grabbed from the grass. Barfville, USA in 20 minutes. A girl was, I kid you not, climbing up to the top of the climbing thing with a doll in her hand. So, she’s either going to be POTUS or not. But, they are so beautifully unaware, right? In that, in your, innocence is the ability to do a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g.
I think this often, if I just let you all be kids? If I am one of those adults, like Granddaddy, that lets a kid be a kid? Hell. There might be actual learning and growth and creativity and, dare I dream, WONDER. If I just allow you to have a childhood. Which I will always try to do for you and any kid.
Bärli, there is a ton of chaos floating around me. Work is hard. This house is somewhat of a love-able money pit. I worry for the health of my loved ones. You are on a journey that is long. It is a rough time and (day and day out) I’m alone, by choice.
But, a very clear voice called to me, when I was about to share “adult” concerns with you.
Yesterday, I read a letter from a friend, who took time to write to me. She pretty much slapped me across the face and screamed, “STOP DOING THIS ON YOUR OWN, TALK TO ME” in a way that either Godmum or Godmomma would have done, if they were here.
How badly I miss them.
But, she was insistent that I stop holding everything in.
So…I stopped.
I told you the thing I wanted to tell you was that I loved you and everything would be okay. I made a mental note to remember that my friends are here to listen to everything that is tough and I neither need to hold it all in nor do I need to hold it in my shoulders (which literally tilt to one side now). They are here.
You are not.
Because YOU are a child. You need to deal with, as Kristina says, “child-size” portions of information. You have to be fed information you can balance with the fear of pooping your pants (not your current fear, but one of your buddies did it last week at school), making sure the kids don’t ask questions you don’t want to answer about your private life (c), being cool, having hair that looks like Grant’s, and knowing you are heading to the NBA. I mean, that’s it, right? Because you’re 7.
So, I thought tonight, let’s let him be 7. Just like he was allowed to be 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Just like when Godmum was with us and we were living with Lindy and we were around Godmomma. Lean on. my friends because they are here with us.
And, you be a kid.
I’ve got you.
Always.
The World of Before You 