First let me start by saying that each time I log back into my account here, I am reminded that I did not finish my post about David's hospitalization. It's sitting as a draft and words are written, but I'm not sure how to complete it or how to even sort my words into formed emotions yet. I will. But not yet.
Let's get to today's post.
Kyle and I have some of our most profound conversations in the van driving to & from various places (as well as some of our most ridiculous). It's one of the few places that I have his attention (if he doesn't have a book, tablet, or phone in his hand.)
We drove to Champaign unexpectedly in the rain today to have Kyle's ears checked out. All is good, but he's been complaining for 5-6 days now and we just wanted them to be checked. Just some allergy and wax crud-nothing abnormal or new with him.
On the way home he was telling me his "plans". He has "plans" for everything. And they change. Repeatedly and often. Today's plans were for his hikes through the mountains with David one day. Yesterday his plans included the best way to train the dog and how many popsicles he could eat in a day. Seriously. His thoughts range from silly to serious on a daily basis. He is 10 after all (but almost 11.)
We talked about what he might have to do to obtain some of these goals and how he might eventually have to reign some of those ideas and plans in to make a cohesive list. One that's obtainable. I told him that one day he can do amazing things if he puts his mind to it.
He told me I already did an amazing thing. "You take care of David. That's amazing. I don't think a lot of parents would take care of David."
Well. He's wrong. If you were David's parents, you would take care of him. At least the majority of parents would. You would see him smile, and you would hear his laugh and you'd smile and laugh with him. You would see his anguish and hear his cry and you would feel that so deep inside that you would cry out in angst for him. You would see his determination and see his happiness when he accomplished the simplest task (like getting a favorite hat out from under a pile of toys) and you would feel the same pride.
It's not easy. It's gotten so much harder. And I know it's going to get even harder. Aging for all of us is making this harder. But I'll do it. Because he's mine. And I really can't imagine not taking care of my child. Being their mom is really what I was meant to be. I feel the same things for my kids that you do for yours.
I feel the same things about Kyle. When he's happy, I'm happy. When he is sad, I'm sad. When he feels accomplished, I feel the same. When he talks about racing or hiking with David, I feel proud.
It's all the same. But it's all different. Different kids, different worlds. But the same world.
As we pulled into Farmer City, he added "And you take care of me. And I KNOW that's not easy."
LOL. No. Definitely not easy. But I love him all the same. But different. It's a constant pull in different, but the same directions. Which makes no sense. But makes all the sense. If that makes sense :)
Where they are, I feel joy.