Wishing

This morning there were tears. Just The Boy's. He woke up this morning in a foul mood, and when I didn't look at him right (no, I'm not kidding) he stormed off in a huff. He was mollified by his favourite breakfast from his dad (he asked nicely, and we're not going to hold a grudge) but then spent a half hour in tears because he didn't want to go to daycare. No amount of reasoning, cajoling, or threats would do it. He had to FINISH HIS MECCANO build or NOTHING WOULD EVER BE THE SAME AGAIN.

It was not a good morning.

I went to get him at daycare this afternoon and saw outside a broken cot and was honestly anticipating that they would tell me he did it. Despite the fact that I think the thing had been wrenched in half, and was made of metal. My kid, in a fury, seems super human.

This afternoon at daycare he seemed fine. He was eager to go and cooperative. We got in the car. We drove home. We chatted. We got home and I made pizza.

But he was hungry. And it took twice as long as it should have. And so by the time it was ready, he didn't want to eat. He was cranky and grumpy.

And so was I.

And then it was bedtime, and we entered another dimension. The dimension of insanity.

I can't re-hash it all here -- you wouldn't want to read it anyway. Suffice to say there was great defiance on his part. There were messes made (by him), there were nasty words screamed (by him) there were things thrown (by him), there were people hit by those things (me), and kicked (me) and hit (me).

There were tears. On both sides.

Two. Hours.

It took all the strength I had and then a second wind after a bout of tears (me) to remain calm. I love that kid more than life itself, and when he finally wore himself out to sobbing hiccups in his bed he clung to me and told me how scared he was that I would go away, and that he loved me so much and he didn't ever want to be away from me.

And I know that this is all coming from the part of him that sees all the change -- the changes in mommy, the changes in his routine, and fact that mommy will go away to have the baby, and the biggest change of his young life -- a new sibling. And it's scary. Hell, let's face it, these are the types of changes that freak out many adults. If the person you relied on most changed so they weren't so reliable, and you switched jobs and added someone new to your family, you'd be freaked out too. It's HARD. I get that. I know that. It's hard for me.

And I just want to tell him that it's going to be ok. But the fact is that I can't, because things are going to change. Sure, they are going to be ok, but they will never be his version of ok ever again.

All I can do is sit in the dark, and hold his hand and stroke his head and tell him that no matter what changes, I will still love him for always and forever, that that will never change. And he hiccups slowly, and clings to my hand, and falls into sleep completely exhausted from his emotional discharge.

And I come back out to the living room, wishing for a glass of wine, and wondering for the millionth time if this new baby thing is a good idea.

And feeling horribly bad for making his life so hard.

And wishing somehow that I could just make it all better.

And I can't.