Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Oh where have you been, my blue-eyed son, and where have you been, my darling young one?

I was having a bit of an existential crisis last night.  Looking at my life with a critical eye and wondering how I got to this point, miles from where I thought I would be at this age and this stage of my career, and not feeling particularly good about it. 

I started to cry and was sort of weepy throughout the night.  No doubt a combination of hormones and exhaustion and a little bit of loneliness, of feeling like the weight of keeping the family going is on my shoulders.  Wondering if I'm doing my children any good at all. 

Zeke saw that I was upset and said, "what's wrong, Mama?"  And I mumbled something about being a little sad and a little tired, all the while feeling more like an asshole for even subjecting the children to my moods in the first place.  They need me to be the solid, stable one.  It's not their responsibility to make me feel better.

Zeke's eyes were wide and concerned.  "It's OK, Mama.  Everything's going to be OK."  He rubbed my cheek and gave me a hug.

Later, after Josie had gone to bed, he and I were hanging out downstairs when a thunderstorm rolled in.  Super-loud thunder, crashing lightening and rain driven sideways by the wind.  Zeke was mesmerized.  When a particularly loud clap of thunder exploded, his jaw dropped and he said, "WOW!" in total wonderment.

"Let's go over to the window and watch it, Mama!"

So we went and sat by the front picture window that looks over the road.  "We need to wait for more thunder, Mama.  Sometimes it takes a little while.  But do you see the rain falling on the road there?  It's falling really hard!"

I looked down at him and marveled at how lucky I am to have this sweet, beautiful, sensitive boy in my life.  I put my arms around him and held him close.

"I love you, Mama."

"Oh, Zekey.  I love you, too.  So, so much.  You're the best boy in the world."

"Are you still sad?"

"No, honey, I'm OK.  You gave me great hugs and that made me feel better."

He patted my face and then turned to look outside again.  We sat like that in the dark living room, our arms wrapped around each other, looking out the window until the storm passed.


  1. So sweet, Wendy! Sometimes a good cry is what we need. It's like our own personal thunderstorm - sometimes it's loud and scary and ragey, but it's usually over quickly and things always tend to look much brighter afterwards.

  2. Oh, Wendy. I understand those places and how crappy it feels to be in them. I'm glad you had your sweet boy right there to give you hugs and point out the extraordinary in ordinary life. Big hugs to you.