My Three Year OId Thinks He’s Batman

My Three Year OId Thinks He’s Batman

…and I’m totally okay with that.  Notice my title says “three year old.”  Gah, that terrifies the shit out of me.  I mean, it does and it doesn’t, you know?  A lot has changed since my last post in the realm of behavior.  We have a little way to go, but he is definitely making progress.  I’m proud of that little guy, let me tell you.  Even if he is a bit delusional.  And, okay.  That’s partially completely my fault.  I might have told him, “Batman potties,” or, my personal favorite, “Batman doesn’t dance on coffee tables!”  Whatever the case, my child has taken to believing he’s a miniature superhero.  And I’ll take it if it means:

A) there are fewer pull-up changes (those dudes are EXPENSIVE) and
B) there is less of a chance that my child will become the first ever male table dancer.  gahhhhhhhh.

Anywho.  It is what it is.  And if Gabe thinking he’s Batman is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.  So long as it doesn’t carry over into grade school.  sheesh.

Today on the radio I heard of two women who got into it (what is “it”, anyway? hmm.) over whether shipping your kid(s) off to kindergarten or college is more heart-wrenching.  Coming from someone who has done neither thing as of yet, I can clearly see both sides.  How?  Quite simple.

I speak from the mouth of a mother who is still watching her small one see things for the very first time; even if he has seen them countless times before, his little eyes are attuned to different things all the time.  His perception of the world, from my sight, is both terrifying and jaw-droppingly exquisite all the time.  It is because I see this in my young child that I can see how shipping your kid(s) off — whether it be down the road for a few hours or thousands of miles away, semesters at a time — can truly alter one’s… well, everything.  And it’s different for each and yet breathtakingly similar.

The similar bit (or one of them) is that the self is ever-changing.  Humans are funny in that we evolve constantly, yet we are afraid of our own evolution.  The self is much like a river; it flows and never ceases.  Even the slightest of trickles, the smallest of movements, changes who we are physically.  Our souls, on the other hand, I am convinced are relatively immobile.  These two attributes are strikingly different and they are what make us thrive — even in our unconscious fear.

A mother, especially, a good mother, I should say, lives in an unrecognized fear for her children.  There is a saying that I adore: “No one else will ever know the strength of my love for you.  After all, you’re the only one who knows my heart sounds from the inside.”  I live in an constant state of upheaval for Gabe.  I’m a worrier, by nature, and so this only worsened upon bringing him into the world.  I have not set my little one off on his path just yet — I hardly count day care, although some may.  He has largely been with me, and I dread the day that I see him take that next step.  And yet, even in my unsettled momma-mode, I am so proud that he is able in every way to set off on his own eventually.  Even if it is only to kindergarten.

There are moments in a momma’s life that are different even from that of a daddy.  Fathers are proud of their children, don’t mistake what I mean.  But a momma.  You carry that baby from the time the pee on the stick tests positive until you, yourself, pass on.  Even that means that your baby is no longer a baby.  “Cutting the cord” is far easier said than done.  Of course, you do… it would be cruel to stay shoved up your child’s behind… not letting them experience life — mistakes, joys, quandaries, etc. — for themselves is a shame.  But that doesn’t make it any less hard.  I, myself, have a hard time cutting the cord, etc. where Gabe is concerned.  I remember three years ago as vividly as I can see this screen.  Just holding him tight, terrified.  Terrified that I would fail.  Terrified that I wasn’t the right choice for that little body I held.  Terrified that I would do him harm.  So, yes.  I understand how both scenarios are equally as hard.  From moment to moment… time is fleeting.

One moment, you’re packing off your little one on the school bus, the next they’re peeling out of the drive on to work… school… families.  I understand.  I understand ‘though I’ve not yet lived it.

It hit me like a brick to the face yesterday that Gabe would be three today.  And again when I realized that this time next year he’ll be in pre-k.  So ladies.  Take it easy.  We’re all watching these little lives leave us.  Maybe not as quickly, but somehow… just as.

So today my Gabe is three.  My superhero is growing up and I am so proud…. even when he pees and hollers “MATNAN!” (Batman.  get with it.)

Happy birthday my beautiful boy.  You my are my heartbeat.  Easy now… you’ll give me a heart attack.

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