Love Hurts

Love hurts.  Especially when it comes to raising a child.

Saturday morning, Jude, J.P., Joe and I went to the Frist (art museum) and met one of J.P.'s classmates and his parents.  There was a pretty cool classic car exhibit and, more importantly, on the 3rd floor there's an awesome area for children to play - areas to draw, things to look at and a table with plastic, magnetized blocks to build with.  J.P. and his friend had a great time building "jails" (I'm not sure how that happened, but it did).

Anyway, at one point, the boys wondered off to look at something and another boy knocked down the buildings they had built.  J.P. and his friend immediately started crying, while I tried to explain that they needed to share the blocks, it was time to let other children play with them, etc.  As I walked J.P. away from the table and tried to reason with him, he decided to focus his anger on me.  He looked at me and said, "I wish I only had a mommy and no daddy, like Will" (a classmate of his).  To my shock and dismay, he repeated himself.

I was speechless.  Actually, I was devastated.

If anyone had told me when I held my oldest son in my arms for the first time, 5 1/2 years ago, that at some point early in his life (or at any point in his life) he would look at me and tell me he wished  he only had a mommy (or a mother), I would have laughed it off.  And yet, it happened.  Jude was mortified when he said it and immediately told him to apologize, which he did, half-heartedly at first.  As he realized how upset I was, he apologized again.

We left the Frist and I drove home with Joe, while Jude and J.P. waited on "the green bus" (that's another story, but suffice to say J.P. likes public transportation).  J.P. called me on my cell phone and apologized again.  To me, it felt contrived, but I'm not sure it was going to feel otherwise, given that he's 5 1/2 years old and his mother, I know, encouraged him to call me.

I was down, really down, for the rest of the afternoon and evening.  The common sense part of my brain told me a lot of things:  He didn't meant it.  He doesn't know any better.  He's only 5 1/2.  He's trying to become independent.  He's testing my limits.  And on and on.

My heart hurt and told me something else entirely:  I'm a terrible father, or else J.P. wouldn't say something so horrific.  He doesn't love me like he should.  I don't spend enough time with him.  He doesn't respect me.  In 10 years, I won't be able to control him.  And on an on.

To say I was conflicted is an understatement.  To say J.P. laid waste to my heart is not.  Tough, tough day.

Today, we picked where things left off and followed our normal Sunday routine.  J.P. and I went to Bongo Java, then to Rose Park, where we practiced baseball in the stifling morning heat.  Then, we went to Krispy Kreme to pick up donuts for church.  After church, we came home, played for a bit, then I took Joe for a walk after lunch so he could nap in the stroller.

Tonight, as we were finishing up dinner, I started fooling around with J.P.  For no good reason whatsoever, I decided it would be funny to tell him I had a gift for him - a Panera card and a Paneral keychain card - and throw them on the dining room table.  He laughed uproariously the first time a threw the Panera cards on the table and off we went.  Immediately, we began playing a game where he would tell me he had Panera cards for me, then throw them on the table, laughing hysterically.

It was one of those spontaneous, organic moments that happens all on its own.

J.P. and I laughed.  Jude shook her head at us and laughed.  Joe, in his high chair, laughed (with no idea why he was laughing).

I called Jude on her cell phone.  J.P. answered.  I said I was calling from Panera and and two cards for him, then I ran in the room and threw them on the dining room table.  J.P. laughed so hard he was almost crying.  Then  he called me on my cell phone and did the same thing.  And we laughed and laughed and laughed.

Life with children is a roller coaster, no doubt about it.  Up, up, up, then down, then up, up, up again.