centre of the universe - the dreaming: Famous Friday

05/30/2008: "Famous Friday" It's another web comic about cenobyte!!! I don't *remember* saying that, about CC's lovely stick neck...

In other news, there are things I don't like to think about. Usually, that results in my not thinking about them. Which isn't to say that I avoid them, but rather that when I find myself thinking about something I Don't Want To Think About, I generally start running around in circles, slapping myself in the face and hollering out random US states.

So last night, I was watching one of those programs where the brave and clever FBI/State Attorneys/Regional Police discover someone is missing/assaulted/dead/covered in bees, and the story in the one that was on last night involved a kid that was Missing. Or Dead. Or covered in bees (you really should watch that little video there. It's bloody brilliant), and I started thinking about things I don't like to think about.

Like, "that could happen to my kids". And, "my kids are growing up so fast! Soon they'll be utterly reticent to snuggle with me on the couch, and I'll have to start snatching random children off the street for hugs and smooches, and that's just going to open up a world of strangeness. Mostly for the cats, who aren't used to strangers." And, "I'm very sad at the thought of losing my children."

Then it occurred to me that your children growing up doesn't necessarily mean you're *losing* them. It means you're developing a deeper, more meaningful relationship with them. At least, in theory. There's always the off chance that the epitome of a deeper relationship with a teenage boy involves only one syllable at a time, and plenty of zit cream. But really, you watch them grow from little tiny zygotes (okay, well, you don't usually *see* them growing from zygotes into embryos, but you know they're there) to embryos and then into wiggly baby things, and then they start to coo and giggle and you still watch them when they're sleeping, even when they're old enough not to need their woobie or cubby anymore, because their faces are just perfect, and you can see the tiny baby reflected there in the young man's face.

And while you are melancholy for the wee socks and joyful kisses and whole-body hugs, and carrying them up the stairs to bed, you're amazed at this growing boy who laughs so much and who loves to read, and you think, "I wonder what he's going to be like in five years?" And then poof! Those five years are gone, and you're wondering "what the hell happened to those five years? When the hell did he start wearing size five shoes?", and the little one, who used to drink tub water still does, but now he does it because he knows it bugs you, not because he wants to know what it tastes like (it tastes like soap).

That melancholy lasts and lasts, but I have to tell myself it's just part of the equation, because the other part is that I'm excited as all hell to see how they're growing, and I love to watch them learn new things, and rediscover forgotten things. I love watching them run and jump and bash into walls (they're *my* kids, after all). I love knowing that they've minds, powerful, creative minds of their own, and that they're going to use their minds all the rest of their lives to make my world a better place, and to make their world a better and more interesting place. I like to watch them and think, "this, then, is what I have given the world".

But all of that is something I don't often like to think about, because it usually ends with great wailing and gnashing of teeth over the fact that they're growing, and growing up, and growing up and gaining new independences, and trust me....it's really, really difficult to be ready to let them go further and further from your arms. Intellectually, you know they'll be fine and it's good and they'll still love you and you'll always love them, but emotionally, it constantly amazes me how these little buggers rip your heart to shreds every time they take that next leap out of the nest. And the most amazing thing is that while your heart keeps breaking and being raked over by rusty garden tools, it just keeps growing and growing and every time they come home, whether it's from school or from a sleepover or from camp or from the neighbour's garden where the peas are in pod in abundance, every time, they say, "hey Mum!", you heave a gigantic soul sigh and rest back a little, letting the size of your love grow.

"The Forgettance." "cenobyte answers"

1 Comment

brielle128 , on Friday, 30th May:

I will not let on how many tears fell on my keyboard reading this. and I will not let on that the screen is now very fuzzy...and that mascara does not come off hands too well. At least not the gorilla-snot stuff I use. Man Avon makes good mascara.

I digress.

My boys are growing too fast and even though I tell them to slow down,,...and to wait for me to be ready for them to grow away, they never listen. Its funny how opposite things get when time passes.
I miss my oldest boys more than I could ever imagine. And every day I think, "Oh well, they are doing ok and mom doesn't need to come and cook for them" but then I see them and they are too skinny..and who the hell calls themselves a vegetarian anyway and doesn't supply proper protein to thier body? Huh? Who does that? A boy who is too young to be away from home. Thats who. And who gave the big bad world permission to tkae him away when he is so sensitive and will get hurt and mowed down. Huh? Cuz it sure wasn't me. And since when is it ok for your youngest to pack for camp...on his own..and even when he is at school and mom checkes his bang and he did it all..right? Huh? Cuz,..right about now I could give old Father Time and Mother Nature and the whole universe a big boot to the nards.
Slow down. Wait for me. You are going too fast. I used to hear these things instead of saying them.

Have a good weekend C3N0. We can cry together next week.

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