I had an amazing day with my son today. It's late, I'm sleepy. But I have to write about the conversations we had before I sleep, before the prettier thoughts replace it.
My boy is 7 and terribly astute. He suffers a great deal from a learning disability, dyslexia, but he's a creative and quick thinker. Friday night, we had an incredible conversation about God and religion that began with him saying, "Mom, I just don't get it. How was God born?" There's something terribly refreshing about looking your child straight in the eye and saying, "Yeah, babe...it doesn't make sense to my brain either."
Ultimately, we spent an hour discussing what each of us believed, Faith and the need to respect the beliefs of others, even if they were contradictory to our own. It was a great chat.
I wake this morning to find both of my children snuggled up under a blanket together on the couch, watching television. It brings me so much pleasure to see how close they are. I need to know that, despite the choices I made to leave their father, that they will always have each other. I told them we were heading out to the lake for the day, to visit my parents, and they quickly dressed and readied themselves - their independence bringing me much joy too, even though I know it's been thrust on them by the divorce and by my own desires to ensure that should something ever happen to me, they will be competent and capable wee people.
Once at the lake, my parents, my aunt and uncle, my children and I jumped in the pool for some rowdy water volleyball. We're all laughing hysterically, having a genuinely great time when we notice the boat pulling the parasail. We all stop and fixate on it and I say, "I promised myself I was going to do that this year." and felt a little sad as I realized that summer is ending, and I had probably missed my chance. My son pipes up, "I'm going to do that too."
My stepmother says, "If you both want to do it, I'll call them right now and see if they'll pick you guys up at the dock."
An hour later, my son and I are being strapped into our harnesses for our ride into the sky. I can tell my son is nervous, and I'm trying to act nonchalant for his benefit, but my heart is beating a bit faster, too. The couple that runs the operation is amazing and while I'm watching them interact, I'm thinking...these two are truly in love and they love what they do. I was comforted by their easy natures.
The next thing you know, my 7 year old boy and I are being propelled through the air at a height of 250 feet by a thread and the view was awesome. The sun was beginning to set - my favorite time of day - casting that beautiful orange glow over the world. The lake was calm and quiet and the breeze was just the perfect temperature to cool your skin without causing a chill. It was silent and peaceful and utterly breathtaking being that high, that vulnerable, looking out over Austin and the lake and being next to my little man.
"Momma, I'm pretty scared." He said, shortly after we reached altitude.
"I know baby. Me too. But I'm going to be really honest with you, OK?" I said.
"Sure, Mom."
"I spent my life wanting to try things like this and being scared to do them. I would never have done this when I was married to your Dad because I was so afraid of everything. But, I'm learning that everything in life that's really worth experiencing is a little bit scary, because there's always a little bit of risk involved. But, baby, this is fucking cool, don't you think?" I was surprised that I used that word, but it fit at the moment and really, it was fucking cool.
"Yeah, I guess so, Mom. Why were you so afraid of everything before?"
"Sweetie, I don't really know. But what I do know is that I'm not going to let my fear stop me from trying things anymore. And I don't want you to let fear stop you from trying things, either."
"But I'm too young to die." He said. I smiled and giggled.
"Yes, baby you are. And so am I. But we're also too young to not live our lives." I looked over at him and he was smiling. He had released his death-grip on the harness and was waving at a passing boat. I thought that he might not have heard me.
When we landed, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and said, "Mom, I'm glad we're living our lives." I pulled him in for a long hug and held him tightly. I said nothing, but I thought, 'Me too, baby. Me too.'
He immediately called his father to share the experience. His father asks to speak to me. His father says, "I'm surprised you had the balls to do it."
His snarky comments still wound me. I don't know why. I guess I'm still coming to terms with so much about the time we shared. One of the things I struggled with up there was why I was so afraid of everything when I was married and why I'm so unafraid now. I don't have an answer, but it's high on my list of "Things To Ponder".
We left my parents house fairly late for a long drive back. My boy gabbed on and on the whole drive, until a song I love came on. "Babe, let's not talk for just a couple minutes, let's listen to this song, OK?" The song is called "Sacre Coeur" by Tina Dico. The chorus is:
I could go home, to my love
And live the life I've always wanted
or I could go on running off
Into the night, lonely and haunted
and the strange thing is, I don't know
which I'd prefer.
My son says, "Duh. Go home to love." And I'm smiling to myself about how simple a choice that was for him, and I'm happy that's his choice. Of course, I'm also thinking about which I would make and I'm just worn out from a long day, amped up from the adventure, thoughtful, dreamy and really enjoying my child's brain. The song ends and I turn the radio down.
"What about you, Mom. Which would you choose?" and I actually have to ponder it for a minute. That's the strange limbo I'm in right now. Of course I want the love, but I just chose the running off. I want to answer him honestly, so I'm genuinely considering my answer, and I'm giggling at the question.
"Mom, what's sacrifice?" He pipes up.
"Sacrifice is giving up something for something else. Sometimes you sacrifice something really great for something that could be great, good, so-so or even bad in the end. Most of the time, you don't know how things will turn out."
"Dad has made lots of sacrifices in his life." He said.
I was floored. I was going to ask why the topic of "sacrifice" had come up, but now I had my answer. I needed to tread lightly and allow him to reveal himself to me.
"Most people have, baby. What did your Dad sacrifice?" I'm thinking that he's going to say, 'A new guitar so that I could have Pok-E-Mon cards.' or some such nonsense, but no...it's worse. Much worse.
"Well, Dad could have made lots, and I mean LOTS, of money if it weren't for you and us. But, he sacrificed it all to marry you and to have us. He told me. He could have been a famous drummer making millions of dollars but he sacrificed it for you."
I calmly reply, "Yes, baby. We all make sacrifices in life for different sorts of things." but I'm raging mad inside.
So now, if you'll all indulge me in this open rant to my ex-husband (I'd never say it to him because it would accomplish exactly nothing, but I need to get it off my chest):
First of all, what millions of dollars? Hate to be the one to point it out to you, Buddy, but I'm pretty sure your latest gigging band had long since dried up when we met. Further, you fucked up every decent band you were in because of your ego. So, we're a year and a half our from that and - you've still never played a live gig, I'm pretty sure there's no demo tape, oh wait...YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING BAND.
Yeah, yeah...I never supported your dreams. I'm all about supporting the dreams of my partner and helping each other to be better versions of ourselves. But, I can't support your dreams when they exist in the realm of conversation while you won't get your scrawny ass off the couch. To put a finer point on it, I'd give anything to have someone with dreams worth supporting, but I refuse to support pipe dreams.
And on the topic of pipes...can I get a hit off the fucking crack pipe you surely must be smoking to think that's OK to say something like that to a 7 year old?
It's fine. You just keep making your snarky little comments to me, while you deepen the depression your butt is making in the recliner. You'll always have The History Channel.
Rant to ex is now over and I just had an amazing revelation. I know exactly why I was so afraid of trying new things during my marriage.
I was afraid that if something were to happen to me, he'd be left alone to pursue his "dreams" while my children languished in the mire. I was afraid that if I stopped making the household work, it would collapse like the proverbial House of Cards that it really was, and more than anything I was afraid of allowing myself sensation that might awaken the "me" that had been forced to lie dormant for so many years. The relatively new act of feeling has caused me pain, grief, and sorrow. It has also brought me wisdom, exquisite joy and unimaginable pleasure. At long last, I'm wide awake and I'm feeling every moment of my life.
I'm going to take a sleeping pill followed by a long, hot shower - and look forward to waking with my prettier thoughts all freshly aired for the morning.
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