Posted by Serenity in Being Mama | 18 Comments
When Skies Are Gray
Well, it’s happened. I’ve heard the stories, and I cringed. I’ve seen it on You Tube, and I sort of smiled (he said it so sweetly). But it took three sons of my own before it actually happened to me.
We were driving home from preschool. I asked if he was excited about singing on the stage later that night and that he should probably take a nap when he got home, and he said, “I don’t want to sing. I don’t want to nap. And I don’t like you anymore.”
If you’re one of those people who doesn’t really want kids and you’re always being asked to explain your position, and it gets really tiresome for you, SEND THEM TO THIS BLOG POST. All the hard stuff is way worth it to me, but that’s because I’ve been enchanted by the magic dust of motherhood that makes you love them so much it hurts no matter what they do or say. But for you, the idea of being told by someone you BIRTHED – someone you fed, clothed, bathed, wiped, stayed up with, sang to, soothed, and for whom you let the romantic comedy DVD pile gather dust while Robin Hood, 101 Dalmations, and Lion King II: Simba’s Pride were worn to shreds from frequent viewing, their songs seared into your brain until the lyrics and melodies spill out your ears on occasion when you least expect it – being told by that person, “I don’t like you anymore”, well, that should do it. The last point to your thesis: Why Motherhood’s Not For Me. And you’re welcome.
So for you, the women who don’t want the heartache, I won’t tell you that for that one time he said he didn’t like me, there’s been a gazillion in which he told me “I love you” without a smidge of prompting and that he took this one back shortly after when I told him how much it hurt my heart. And I won’t tell you how a certain middle school auditorium no longer has doors because they were blown completely off by the sheer volume of pride and adoration that burst from my sewn-up heart tonight when he sang You Are My Shunshine (yes, with the extra H) with sign language hand motions and everything. And as if the pride and adoration weren’t enough, he whipped out a kazoo for Verse Two, and I laughed so hard and so happily that I’m not even here right now. I’m in heaven, reliving every beautiful moment.
Oh Seren. You are everyones Shunshine. Beautifully written.
Now, that’s the girl who’s seventh grade writing was full of gloriously large words and even more wonderfully huge sentences with every bit of punctuation possible. The experiments were sure worth it. Now all those sentences and words are perfect for the telling.
Oh man. Well, I still like you and I hope that counts for something.
I hold the “illustrious” title of being the only kid to ever make my mother cry. I did so by telling her she was mean, and all my friends thought so too, when I was in…wait for it…high school.
If it’s any consolation, I didn’t mean it. I was just being a teenager.
But I’m glad you can see straight through this tough exterior of his.
I love this post. As always, your detailed explanations of motherhood are right on. I don’t know how you manage to write so perfectly about my life so often. I am sorry you had a little gray sky in your day but I am glad to know I am not the only one with so many conflicting emotions and experiences on this roller coaster of motherhood.
The sky was grey, and you explained it perfectly, but let’s face it……..the sunshine was truly glorious when it came back out wasn’t it?
A kazoo? It DOES NOT get any better than that!! :) You’re right to love moments like that. Priceless and Precious are the words, yep! priceless and precious.
Well said Serenity. “Motherhood”. Yeah it’s all that … and more. No matter what age you are :)
Just beautiful! You are an amazing writer!
I love this picture! And that kid. Believe it or not, I don’t think I’ve heard that particular line yet, but Jesse is getting fairly near to not laughing at my jokes anymore and that is pretty hard on my heart.
Kids!
These comments bless my heart even more. Thanks to the faithful and to you newer voices who don’t comment often! So SWEET to have my 7th grade english teacher write! I read an article about this once, Tom, that to write for the internet you kind of need to displease your english teachers and break rules about complete and run-on sentences. I’m glad you love me enough to approve. I wish I could see one of those seventh grade papers. I bet they overflowed. ;)
Oh, I love this. Especially the kazoo.
Well, I agree with all the great post comments. But, of course, I’m practically crying because I missed the glorious kazoo debut. (stinkin’ day job).
However, you can totally make it all better by sending me a copy of this picture!!!
I’m pretty sure the grandmothers in the crowd would agree with me that the sunshine doubles in the second generation.
Profound. Motherhood is a bittersweet journey (heavy on the sweet). And boys are lovely, aren’t they?
Amazing how these little people worm their way into every fiber of your being and can control your emotions so much…the ups and the downs and not feeling like you can ever love them enough – yet they do know and show it back to us in a million different ways. Love that story…
L O V E this post Serenity! And that picture of him with, of all things, a lightning bolt on his dark hat! How appropriate – that little heart zapper – with a hint of a rainbow smile hidden beneath. ADORABLE!!!!
don’t worry if the sun isn’t shining, its just hidden behind clouds
Wow. I agree with Caroline – profound. And, okay, I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a mother, but as a daughter, I feel guilty for all the times I pretended not to know my parents at recitals and asked them to address me IN ENGLISH ONLY when in public. I would not respond if they didn’t. And compared to my sisters, I would consider myself pretty well-behaved. ;) But really, such a wonderful post.
I hope you know that when he sang “You are my Shunshine,” he was singing to YOU. :)
I was in my twenties the last time I made my mom cry (that I know of). I told her how badly she’d messed up raising me. It was a horrible, mean, terrible, thoughtless thing to say. But I was mad (I don’t even remember why) and I didn’t mean it. Not that that makes it better, I know. It was still one of the worst things I’ve ever said. But it might make you feel a teensy bit better to know that even as I said it I loved my mom more than anything in this world. Sometimes kids just say stupid stuff. Even when they’re well past the age when they should know better. Never doubt that he loves you, though.
I love how you write in such a way as to pull me into your special moment and cause me to feel all you were feeling right along with you. Posts like this always take me back to moments when my own kids were little! I find it entirely comforting and amazing that you can so completely capture in words what I could only feel, but not explain.
Jake is precious and so are you!