Tears and Torpedoes

Sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip…


I actually have a little story to tell today. Which, I’ve been faltering in that category – and just being lazy and posting pictures of boobs and bruises.


Sorry ‘bout that. But you know how sometimes you’re living life and shit is happening and you could probably stop and take notes to share the story, but then you realize that you’d rather live in the moment instead of leave it for any reason? Yah. That’s been happening a lot. Living in the moment.


That sounds like a country song.


So today’s story, boys and girls, is about my Big Kiss who is recently the proud owner of his “Whole Hand AGE!” [turned 5. get it? He gets to show you his whole hand? Whatever.]


We talked about the summer he turned 5 he’d get to take a couple of solo trips to NY to visit the in-laws. The past few days he spent some time with Gram & Gramps and we knew he’d have fun. They took him on Sunday and brought him home yesterday. When I got home from work he was SOCRAZYEXCITED to share with me every detail and show me his toys and the notes they took on all the things they did and OMG! To be honest, I was pretty excited, too. I missed that little turd. We had a good few days alone with the little one, don’t get me wrong, but as dysFUNctional as I make it sound, our lil family has some good times together.


After dinner, the in-laws left and then we chilled our bones with some Backyardigans. Brushed teeth and read some books for bed time. Just as I was kissing him nigh nigh, Big Kiss started to cry. Like full on sobbing, hide in the pillow crying. I asked what was wrong and he could barely choke out “I Miss GrayMa.”


Jaysus.


I climbed right into bed with him and held him. Shhhshing him and telling him we’d see them again soon. I didn’t know what else to do. He’s a sensitive, caring kid and just seemed heartbroken.


I felt like nothing I did was helping him. I think that part got to me the most. I mean, now he’s still a little guy, but what will I do as he gets older? Will I be able to calm his fears? Make it all better with forehead kisses and back rubs? I doubt it, so then what?


Swear to God there are times when I truly wonder why I was allowed to be a mom. I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. As I let all these doubts rumble through my mind, his sobbing slowed and his tears stopped. I could feel his little heart beating against mine.


He looked up and said “I got boogies, Momma” and promptly made a nostril torpedo out of the tissue I was holding. Boogies evacuated, crying done, my boy slept.


If only it were so easy for Momma…