Saturday, 06 June 2009

• Mom Gets Tearful

  sharkboy's sharkbytes

  

  "And though it was what I wanted before falling asleep and in being kept from sleep, my arms felt empty and my heart was lonely..."

  I stood in the center of the living room looking at a fan that was placed in front of an open window that was now blowing the curtains every which direction. I was pondering whether to move the fan or turn down the setting to settle the curtains. I looked over at SharkBoy who had come into the living room and climbed up on the leather couch in front the fan. He was saying, "I'm so hot, Mom. It's too hot in my room." He'd had a very busy day of play and was having not only difficulty settling down from all the play but it was especially hard for him to ease into sleep in a bedroom that was registering 110F with the windows open and fans on. I had gone upstairs to our bedroom to change into jammies myself after a day full of adventure, silly fun, childhood imagination, and lots of laughter. I soon abandoned that idea when I opened the bedroom door and a wave of heat washed over me. I looked over to see what the temp was, it registered 120F. Ew...yuck, much too hot for me, thanks to the vaulted ceiling in the living room (after all, heat rises). I all but flew down the stairs to the living room and decided I was sleeping in my clothes (shorts and tank top) next to a fan that sounded like a jet plane ready to taxi down the runway.

  I flopped down into the leather recliner. The leather felt cool on my arms, legs, and feet. Very much a welcome comfort from the sweltering heat outside that had freckled my face and turned me more than a lovely shade of pink (just color me miserable) while socializing with the hubby's family on their back deck which registered 90F that afternoon. The burn had snuck up on me, I didn't feel it through the 60 SPF sunblock I'd liberally smeared on throughout the day more than once "just in case." Once we were back home, I had turned on every single fan in the house and opened all the windows. Presently, I decided to angle the fan differently that was blowing the curtains and "call it good" for the day. As I sat and enjoyed the cool breeze in the recliner, I looked down at my knees. They were now sporting freckles the size of tiny white speckles on an apple. My thoughts went immediately to my Grandma Pauline (now in heaven with God) and I laughed remembering how freckled she used to get when in the sun. She always had freckles but one kiss from the sun, and her freckles had new freckles.

  I looked back over at SharkBoy who was sporting nothing but a pair of training pants (we're potty training). There wasn't a freckle on his body, just a deep golden tan that had appeared after just five minutes in the son. "Lucky boy," I thought to myself. He is like his sister, they don't burn or freckle. Both of them just bake a beautiful golden shade of brown within minutes. I can only wish as much for myself. I asked him if he wanted to sleep in the living room where it was cooler and he readily gave a reply of "yes." I settled him on the couch with a light blanket and pillow and did the same for myself in the recliner and turned on the boob tube, tuning the tube to the Food Network. Good Eats was on and Alton Brown was a good viewing choice before sleep completely swept us away. I slowly and peacefully began to fade away into the Land of Nod. Not soon after, I jerked awake to the feeling of something pulling on my blanket and flopping like a heavy cannonball down on my stomach and spilling into my lap. My eyes fluttered open and in a startled state, I looked down to see curled up in my lap as if he was still an infant, was SharkBoy. He weighed what seemed like a ton all rolled up into a ball. There was no way I could lift and carry him back over to the couch, he was comatose, which means "Forget it Jack, that kid's out and not going to wake up for anything except breakfast."

  I was now plastered to the recliner under the weight of this little boy causing the sciatica his sister had given me during pregnancy with her and the herniated L4 and L5 discs in my back from pregnancy with Sharkboy, to pierce with excruciating pain that shot from my lower back to my hip and down into my toes. A very painful predicament that had to be remedied immediately. I unstretched his rolled up little body and settled him in next to me in the recliner. Still sleeping, he immediately crawled right back onto my lap and laid his head in the crook of my arm settling into another infant position. I had to laugh at how absurd it looked because he is a little over 3 feet and 7 inches tall at 3 years of age...AND...I quit nursing him a very, very long time ago. [laughs] By now the heat radiating from him combined with my sunburn felt like I was being roasted alive. I struggled to get comfortable and finally gave up trying to figure out a way to get him back to the couch and decided to just curl up with him. Soon the leather on the recliner grew hot, he grew hot against me, and my sunburn felt like it was at a steady broil. Too much misery. SharkBoy was getting heavier and not being able to move in my newly "pinned down status," I couldn't edge over the chair the slightest little bit to move the fan closer.

  As I looked at the clock and saw that it was 12:30AM, I was starting to feel a little more than irritated and discontented with every single passing second in my discomfort of this situation until...

  I looked down into my arms and realized that I no longer held a little baby boy (toddler), that I held a big boy (preschooler) in them. And that even though he is extremely independent at every turn and beyond his years in maturity, he still sought his mother out like the little baby boy he once was who would cling to my finger afraid to let go and balance on his own to walk. The little boy was now a big boy potty trained, playing on playgrounds at parks, communicating with an excellent vocabulary and sharp wit, and he was choosing every day to exercise independence to the inth degree. This little "big" boy who now was curled up like an infant by choice with his mother, would some day be a grown man. In that moment I realized how fast time had been ticking by and that the day was coming soon enough when he would be shaving, dating, and wouldn't fit on my lap anymore -- not without looking absolutely ridiculous.

  So I held him tight, no matter that I was sweating from him being so close in the sweltering 110F temp with the fans blowing miserable warm air. I held him tight, no matter that it made my sunburn feel like fire. I clung to him as he clung to me and cuddled him close until 3AM, when he woke sticky with sweat soaked hair and sleepily opened his eyes saying, "Mommy, you are too hot. It's too hot. I cannot sleep here in this chair with you. You are too hot." He climbed down from my lap as fast as he had climbed up and settled in on the cool leather of the couch. Once again, I covered him with a very light blanket and settled back into the recliner.

  And though it was what I wanted before falling asleep and in being kept from sleep, my arms felt empty. My heart was lonely like a mother who misses her child as I watched him sleep on the couch across from the recliner where I sat. I watched him for quite some time brushing away the tears that fell quietly in the dark between us and came to term with the reality that had presented itself more than once this last year.
  
  My "tiny little sweet boy" is not-so-tiny anymore.
  
  Do you feel your children are growing too fast?

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