In His Eyes

My son. My love living on the outside. With hands of furry he is a windstorm ready to envelope everything in it’s wake. I am not sure if my mothering will be a mistake or maybe it will empower this little firecracker but at 1 am when he is fighting off sleep like positive blood types fighting off mosquitos my patience is wearing thin. Wearing very thin. My husband works early and me and my son have no schedule. I never felt that need to make a bedtime and now some say that I am paying the ultimate price. I get confused on all the finalities. Like does a bed time really matter? He loves to complain about his eyes and how dry they are but he refuses to settle and close them out of fear of missing too much. He is a sponge thirsty to take in his surroundings and I am in awe in everything that he does. The words and sentences that come out of his mouth always floor me and take me a back. Did he actually just say that? Does he know what that means? Then he follows it up with action that just leave me in awe.

He is three and I am living by example showing him things that I hope he will find interesting and obtain. I never asked him to help me clean the house but he does so in his own ways. He may not be very good at what he does but the effort is still there. I wonder if this is something they grow out of or if these habits are forming and I just helped fine tune a shadow that will do all my dirty work. I want my son to feel the accomplishment that comes when doing something then the good feels that come with finishing a task. This is just life and it’s simplicity doing the daily mundane things that need to get done. By sheer observation alone he can fill the dishwasher and sweep the floors and he is fine tuning the knowing of when mommy is needing a hug. Is there any better sound that comes out of your babes mouth then when he is uttering those words. Case and point last night at 1 am when I was trying to clean and care for my birds. Some things are just easier without the pry of little hands but he insisted on helping me as he loves those lil beings just as much as me.

I remember being so scared of my little bundle of joy. Three pounds is nothing all considering just imagining those teeny tiny little toes. I remember thinking, and I most have said it allowed, how scared I was at trying to keep him alive. Isn’t that strange? Here he was growing inside of me and then all of a sudden here he is. I used to tell people he obviously hated the living conditions and needed to get out. I had over 22 stitches from the incision that he caused. I could barely keep him alive inside of me what chance do I have now that he is out? Fostering animals helped alot with that anxiety. I witnessed birth up close and personal and how mother instinct just took over. I used to compare myself to all the other mothers and I would cry to my husband telling him just how horrible at it I was. He told me to stop listening to others it was impossible for us to all be the same. Every story is different. Just like every being is not the same. What we need the most when we are first starting is unconditional love, food and support. We as mother’s have that all laying inside of us that just needs to be fired back up. Yes some may die in child birth but some still do. We can not fight our destiny that is something that I am beginning to learn. When it is your time it is your time so why live it miserable trying to catch up to anybody else.

Now my son is on a rockstar schedule and he is just now beginning to test just how far his boundaries do seem. All I need for him to be is a good person not to conform to other’s thinking or by restricting his free will. My husband thinks differently then I. But I grew up in the time of missing children. Michael Donnahe never made it back home after a day at the playground. That happened in 1991. I bet Christmas never felt the same for his family. The hole only growing bigger when no answers ever come. How can a whole being just vanish and nobody even saw a thing. What about the child captor’s that took him without a trace. Don’t you think his family deserves knowing what happened to their baby that you took it upon yourself to own. Things have only gotten worse since the day of that child’s disappearance. We are told that we aren’t worthy of knowing the answers to the questions that other’s already d. Nobody goes missing without somebody seeing a thinking. I will make it so my son will live differently, you can’t always trust with your eyes what you see. At 4 you don’t know your enemy. A smiling face becomes your friend. I hate that there are those who walk amongst us with this as their only intention to fulfill. I hate who we become so numb and desensitized by our surroundings. There has to be a movement. A movement away from others contempt. I need my son to grown and notice the injustices of the world so he can grow and live his life different. Why does he need to be on this schedule set by another’s idea’s limiting our freewill? Do they tell us that bedtime comes at 9pm so that we aren’t able to see? All the misery they bring to us hidden underneath the cloud of darkness that anonymity is sure to bring? My son will be taught to honour is instinct and listening to what he feels right. We are empowering young men to be leaders, to fight for the honour of humanity that is vastly becoming lost. Why would I want to conform to the masses when I have already bared witness to where that road does go. My son is my living legend and he deserves to be empowered to listen to his natural instinct. He can see the things that my eyes have been scarred from he is my heaven sent. For him I will do anything including figuring out where all my dreams went. In his eyes I can be anything and I need him to believe in himself too.

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