is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
There was a surprise, he cried, and then it was all OK
Tuesday, June 2, 2009 Last night at t-ball, Lil E soared. We talked about where he could hit the ball to avoid the cluster of 3-6-year olds where the pitcher's mound would normally be, and he bulleted the ball right through that empty spot on the field. And because it was cold and many of the kids on his team left early, he fielded ball after ball, running hard and pinning his glove over it protectively until we yelled from the sidelines to throw it to first.
The kid was blissed out on t-ball.
His dad came to watch and he was thrilled. It was a make-up game andhis right privilege to watch Lil E play, but not normally a day when they see each other.
"What a surprise!" I smiled sharply, pointing toward his dad as he walked across the field toward our boy.
My parents cheered as Lil E confidently ran from base to base. He was supported. He was strident.
My son in the oversized team t-shirt draped on top of a jacket and long underwear top, was happy.
Until it came time to leave. Normally, game days fall on the nights Lil E spends with his dad. We have kisses and high-fives after the last inning, and I hand off the small child and his overnight bag brimming with Legos and stuffed animal babies and action figures. Last night, he said goodnight to his dad and we went home. It confused him, it upset him.
My son with dirt and a junior-sized baseball glove covering half his face, was confused.
He turned suddenly silent, asking why his dad didn't take him for the night, then yelling that I was lying about what day it was after I explained the (happy?) surprise of the situation. Once home, he collapsed on my lap, crying into my shoulder while the bath ran in the next room.
It all ended OK. We snuggled in his bed and were both enthralled by a new book on grasshoppers he brought home from school. We giggled and he gave me more kisses and tight hugs than usual before he fell asleep. I drifted off next to him after singing our standard ni-ni songs and woke up to feel his legs running like crazy his sleep.
Earlier, he was processing what are the real and daily and inevitable logistics for a child living in two homes. Most days, he rolls with that situation pretty well. And some nights, just like last night, surprises (even happy ones) throw the whole game off.
It was just a moment in time, and this morning, it was all better.
Tomorrow, it's game time again. And then, he will go home with his dad, just another sign that our structure, our schedule has been righted once more.
Life, particularly this life, is not predictable. There's a pain that surfaces for him sometimes that I cannot make go away (I know this) but I can soothe (or do my best, at least). Until we are all a lot better at this (and you've all assured me that does come...eventually), I'm going to keep cheering him on as he runs and slides and dives into new things. But I'm also going to be enveloping him protectively, tightly. Just like his glove sheltering the ball from everything and everybody else on the field.
Reader Comments (1)