Ghosts in the walls

This morning you had me turn off the sink because you heard a noise. We stood there in the kitchen and strained to hear it. It sounded like it was coming from the hall, so I followed you out there, then it was coming from outside the door, so we went through, and standing right next to you I heard it clear as day. The doorbell was screeching and chattering like something out of a sci-fi movie. I felt it and the wall around it and it wasn't hot, but I figured I'd call the landlord anyway. Once I got on the phone with her I went back to the doorbell, but the noise had quit. We chatted a while. When I got off the phone you said you'd never be able to concentrate on your reading with that racket, but you were hearing it in the living room now. I went in there, but now you were hearing it in the kitchen! I'm following you all around the house trying to figure out what wall it's coming from when you call me from your bedroom.

It was your gameboy. In your pocket. Squeaking.

So.

You were kind enough to volunteer to call the landlady and explain what bubble-headed boobs we are. I was so proud of you for doing that. I can't imagine doing that when I was your age. Then you talked about being so embarrassed. I pointed out that I'd made the same mistake that you did, and I'm the grown-up...

Hope you can laugh about this soon- it's funny!
Love,
mom

You try so hard.

You do. All the time. And yet, when I try to point out how much effort of will that takes I can see that you don't believe me.

You are truly the sweetest boy I know. Good at heart. An honest to goodness angel. I try and try to communicate that I believe this to be true about you but I feel like I never get through.

Someday you'll be bigger and older and maybe you'll be ready to hear it when you read this. I hope so, because you really are a wonderful person. I promise I'm going to keep trying. It's probably me somehow- I'm just not saying it often or loud enough, or I spend more time saying Don't and Quit. Or I say it often, but not often enough because you're paying attention to the Don'ts and Quits.

When it's all said and done, I know you're going to be just fine. I wish I could spare you some of the pain of growing up. Open your eyes to how amazing you are, how pointless and petty other people's attentions can be.

I love you so much,
Mom

Good Hearted

Last night I sat down to the dinner table and I knew something was wrong. I can tell by the set of your chin that you're trying not to cry. And I know, I just know, that you're going to say nothing's wrong.
And I'm mad already. Because something is wrong. It's obvious! How can you sit there trying not to cry and tell me nothing's wrong!
But I ask anyway, hoping you'll surprise me.
You don't.
And I yell. Just once, would you tell me what's wrong! You know I'm not going to let it go, so knock this off!
You start to deny it again and I won't even let you finish your sentence- I'm banging on the table now- Knock it off!
So you finally spill the beans. You think I'm stretched too thin. That with your little sister to take care of, I'm at my wit's end to run the house.

Well.

The house certainly looks that way. And it is true I would have gotten more done today without your little sister to take care of.

But it's also true that you and I started a major rearrainging project today that threw to the winds what little order our house had. It is stressful to be in the mess, and I know you hate it, but nobody could have finished in two hours what we started.

We'll work on it bit by bit until it's better. At times like this I feel lazy. Slovenly. How could I let it come to this? And you always look at me like I'm working so hard; like I'm about to fall apart with the frenzy of my efforts.

I wonder what on earth your wife will be like.

Love you sooo much,
Mom

To my son:

I love you so much. I wish I were a perfect Mom, who was never tired and grumpy, who always had the perfect answers for things.

As we both know, I'm not.

I wish I had kept a journal just about you for your whole life. I've only managed it off and on. There are many reasons, but none of them are that I didn't love you enough.

I will piece together what I do have collected already, as I find the time. And I will try again, here, to keep a record of your life as it is viewed from my eyes. Someday this will be important. It will help you understand why I went wrong when I did, and will help you understand why you do the things you do.

And it will be fun. You're going to forget much of the stuff I write about. Someday you'll read this and get the biggest kick out of the funny, sweet, wonderful kid you were.

Love,
Your Mom