shoulda
Shoulda been in bed two hours ago. A conversation has me thinking about some things.
Fucking addictions. Fucking asshole.
My kid saves his opposition, anger, frustration for me. He tells me about his day and he speaks in rages. I love that uncomplicated emotion.
I love and hate it that he gets all brighteyed at strangers. But silent, my shy boy. Who is this little person going to be, mister content to play by himself.
I can't fix the little wrongnesses and OTHER PEOPLE are making him who he is right now. It's sort of a combined fault. Mine, largely---- for thinking, for wanting us to be enough.
I have no sympathy for people without the ability to make things important. I love that I can be the person for whom my son can come home . Can be just the pendulous, questing, formative soul. That's what mommy is for at this age, the pillar at which to throw all the salt. I'm the left fucking shoulder. And you know, after wanting to be someone's refuge for so long- I feel vital and purposeful about that. I didn't ever guess livelihood would come in the form of a 3 foot tall crazy haired, round bellied, drunk-acting lunatic. I've never had this much fun in my life. I could watch that goofball mug like Groucho for eternity and being eternal makes it celestial. Heaven. Grace and absolution and finally. Peace. Ohhhhhhmmmmm.......
Still and all, guiltily I sometimes fantasize that I'll hear, "I'll make it okay for you" and have it be the goddamn truth. Just one time. Just for one day, maybe, is that so much to ask?
Fucking addictions. Fucking asshole.
My kid saves his opposition, anger, frustration for me. He tells me about his day and he speaks in rages. I love that uncomplicated emotion.
I love and hate it that he gets all brighteyed at strangers. But silent, my shy boy. Who is this little person going to be, mister content to play by himself.
I can't fix the little wrongnesses and OTHER PEOPLE are making him who he is right now. It's sort of a combined fault. Mine, largely---- for thinking, for wanting us to be enough.
I have no sympathy for people without the ability to make things important. I love that I can be the person for whom my son can come home . Can be just the pendulous, questing, formative soul. That's what mommy is for at this age, the pillar at which to throw all the salt. I'm the left fucking shoulder. And you know, after wanting to be someone's refuge for so long- I feel vital and purposeful about that. I didn't ever guess livelihood would come in the form of a 3 foot tall crazy haired, round bellied, drunk-acting lunatic. I've never had this much fun in my life. I could watch that goofball mug like Groucho for eternity and being eternal makes it celestial. Heaven. Grace and absolution and finally. Peace. Ohhhhhhmmmmm.......
Still and all, guiltily I sometimes fantasize that I'll hear, "I'll make it okay for you" and have it be the goddamn truth. Just one time. Just for one day, maybe, is that so much to ask?