And So It Begins!

As you know, I go to school. Therefore, twice a week my mom watches my son. When I got home last night, I heard him yapping away but I didn't hear my mom respond. When I finally went to her room, she was barely awake and my son was just talking and talking and talking. As soon as he saw me, he jumped up and hugged me. Then he started telling me a story about something that happened a week ago. All of a sudden, his voice got really loud and he was pointing his finger to me. My mom and I looked at eachother. Clearly someone had been yelling at my kid and he was mimicking that person. I asked him who talks to him like that and he responded "Mommy and Daddy". Clearly this isn't true because he hasn't seen his "daddy" in two years. So I asked him again and he said the same thing. I was left puzzled at where this daddy business came from.

Then he proceeded to me tell me that he wanted to get on a plane like grandma and papa and that he was going to the airport. He then said "Daddy is on the plane". You see, whenever he ask for him, I always tell him he's on a plane but the last time we had that conversations was months ago.  He then proceeded to have a conversation regarding his daddy.

My mom and I came up with the conclusion that he must be learning this at school. However, I'm now left with the reality that the questions will begin soon. Where is daddy? Why is he not here? How come I don't see daddy?

What's the right thing to say? Clearly I can't keep telling him his daddy is on a plane for the rest of his life. Despite my personal opinion of his father, I've never spoken negative towards him to my son. In fact, I often show him pictures or tell him fun stories about his daddy. However, he's growing up and starting to understand the dynamics which make up a family.

While I know that as he gets older, he will see things for himself. However, what does one do in the interim when he is too young to really get it but too old to pacify with vague answers?

Therapy

Ever since I had my son, I knew I had to get my shit together. I wasn't a mess per se, but there was so many things I could have done to better myself like finish college. So I'm back at school now and I'm even taking two summer classes, one being English. We have to write a research paper on a social issue that's dear to us. Well take a guess at what I'm writing about...yep single parenting!

So last night in class, she tells us that we need to do a narrative essay of our topic in a short story form. The essay should have at least 750 words and must express how this social topic has impacted your life. So I decided to focus from the day my son was born to the day his father left to show how great he was while he was here and how he decided one day to leave. I did mention how he has since disappeared since it's very relevant to the story.

Two thousand words later, I was shaky. It was the first time I had expressed myself on paper about that timeframe. Sure, I started writing an autobiography but I haven't gotten to the part he left. My essay forced me to remember the good, bad, and ugly of the past three years. I had even forgotten how he took my hand while we were opening our son's presents at his first birthday party (and had everyone thinking he was going to propose) and told everyone what a great mom I was. He even gave me a $100 gift certificate to a spa. Or how we did everything together as a family like taking our son to the zoo, aquarium, and just out for walks. He doesn't sound like that bad of a guy when I think of those things. But then I remember how all those family moments must have been planned because two days later he told me he was leaving in four days and he hasn't looked back.

That will be exactly two years ago two weeks from today. Its funny how you can forget all the little details that make up how you feel about a person but only hold the emotion deep down inside. I call this post Therapy because while for the most part, I'm doing just great, I haven't let go of the anger. I haven't let go of the disappointment or the hurt and writing is like therapy to me. So if I talk too much about the same thing over and over, just keep in mind that I'm healing myself to health.