My Boy

We had a day the other day. A big fat, we can't agree on anything, you always make me do stuff I don't like, why do I need to listen to you day. Me and S. It was a tough one.
All day, it was a struggle. We butted heads, we said stuff, we went to our respective rooms, we yelled, we retreated. It was hard. No one told me that there would be days like this when I became a Mom. And, oh, it hurt. It hurt like nothing else could hurt me. My heart was aching even amidst the accusations, the yelling and the tears, from both of us.
At the end of the day, after C was in bed and Hubster hadn't gotten home, we were in the kitchen together, alone, finally, for the first time that day, just talking. I looked at this boy, this boy that I used to sit and rock to sleep, who loved cuddling with me, this boy who used to call me 'the Mama' and jump right up into my arms and exactly at that moment, my heart just melted.

He's getting so big and growing so fast. I held out my arms and he stepped right into them. Wrapped his arms all around me, squeezed, and before I could say anything, he just simply said "I'm sorry Mama". The tears came faster than I could stop them. "Me too" I said, "I don't like it when we argue."  "Me neither," S said.

This boy, this up to my chin, size Men's 7 shoe-wearing, Harry Potter-obsessed, Lego maniac, is growing up. But, underneath it, he's still my boy. And he always will be, even when his heart belongs to that other special someone he'll meet someday.

It was a nice way to end the night.