Done. Totally over it. That’s all I could think about as my four year old decided to make his three trillionth bad decision since we’d entered the Dollar Tree. The Christmas holiday had completely thrown off his routine, so between that and the genius idea I had to give him gummy candy before we went into the store, things were not going well.
As I stood in line with my baby between his brother, who was trying to exit the cart and stand on top of the conveyor belt, and me, I began to seriously question why I bothered taking my son in public. Why I didn’t just leave the cart full of dollar wonders and haul his little butt out to the car. Why I allowed him to periodically screech at the top of his teeny tiny lungs like a stepped on cat.
In that moment, I was done. I was done with his behavior, no matter how normal it was (four year old boys are not known far and wide for being the best behaved creatures). I was done wondering if he was grabbing himself because he had to pee (boys are so fascinated by their member it’s so hard to tell). The constant demands for toys that were thought up by someone who hated mothers, the laying down in the middle of aisles and laughing maniacally, the refusal to answer whether he wanted Avengers or Paw Patrol Valentine’s Day cards for his classmates (for the love, just pick ONE!).
I stood there, in my $3.98 ugly Wal-Mart leggings, oversized sweatshirt, and no bra, and thought to myself, how the ever loving f-bomb did I get here. Isn’t he too old for this? Aren’t I? I could feel the migraine begin to pound behind my right eye.
Then, my eight month old reached out and grabbed me. He wanted out of the cart, so that he too could partake in his brother’s shenanigans. He made his happy noise and buried his face into my chest (he’s a boob man). All of a sudden, I looked at both my sons and thought, someday this will all be done.
Years from now, my boys won’t need to go to the store with me. They probably won’t want me to. They will go to the bathroom when their body tells them. They won’t act without inhibition, walking up to other children and starting conversations. Jaxen will stop asking me to Hulk Smash and Hunter won’t think everything I say is awesome. I won’t have them vying for a spot on my lap and I’ll probably have to sit on them to get any physical affection.
Am I ready to be done with certain aspects of this stage in life? Absolutely. I could do without the poopy underwear and sleepless nights. I am not ready to be done with sloppy kisses and blanket caves.
Part of Jaxen’s bedtime routine is me laying down with him. Most of the time I sing him two songs and then we lay there until I fall asleep. Tonight, I watched his eyelids get heavier as I sang and he pulled my hand in close to his chin. His little face looked exactly as it did when he was about a year old, relaxed and smooth. I kissed his little fingers and whispered ‘I love you’ before I finagled my way out of the bed. This ritual will be done someday but it will always live in my heart.
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