I thought about revisiting this blog. Then I read this piece, cried a little at the reality of it and went to Facebook to whine. That’s when I realized my whining was too much for just a little ol’ Facebook post.
My little boy just isn’t so little anymore. Standing at 5ft tall he is sweet, compassionate, moody, melancholy, silly, obstinate and nine. He stays in his own head a lot more than he used to. He waffles between wanting to give a little attitude and wanting to crawl into my lap to cuddle. He cries at the drop of the hat and gets pissed just as easily. It’s hard for me to get a photograph of him smiling these days: he’s either flipping off the camera, giving me a goofy face or looking at me like he wants to suck my eyeballs out of my head and shit in the sockets. He doesn’t race from the plane and jump into my arms anymore; he coolly walks down the tunnel and gives me a hug and definitely isn’t interested in holding my hand. He refuses to sleep without me still, though, and I wake up with the most angelic little face right next to mine. The face that, when asleep, reminds me of days gone by…the days when I had a sweet little boy who thought his mama hung the moon. I know that I have a big job ahead of me, a huge responsibility towards this sweet, not-so-little boy. I know I’m going to fuck up here and there. Hell, I already have. I’m determined to keep moving forward, though, learning and being the best rock that I can be for him while he goes through these transitions from being a naive, innocent little boy to the young man he will soon be. But, for now, I’m just damn happy to have him back in my arms after six long weeks!