Becoming a mother happens kind of gradually, especially if you're trying to become just that. You finally see the second line and are in a slight state of disbelief on what that even means and it's all very out-of-body and super-surrealy and it keeps on being those things for some time. Now, you're not in denial because it sure feels real as shit when you're up all night with a screaming newborn, but it's just not ONE LIGHTNING BOLT KIND OF MOMENT for us all, at least it wasn't for me.
The other day, Kyle and I went to watch Mike play softball with his work intramural team and a foul ball was hit over the fence and came toward us in the stands. Since I couldn't pause long enough to glance up at the sky for the ball, I just went ahead and DOVE ON TOP OF MY SON to protect his little head from the ball. It was all very instinctual and the rest of the bleachers kind of chuckled because "oh look at that mom protecting her cute kid." But that's just what you do, right? I mean, that instinct has always been there (since I was pregnant and had a slight scare) but I could still never really pinpoint the moment I felt like a true mother.
Until yesterday.
I picked Kyle up from school and got this crazy idea to go to the park. I turned to him and said, "Buds, wanna go to the park?" And he very emphatically said yes. He then went on to say, "I want popcorn but AFTER the park. I want Handy Manny but AFTER the park. I wanna see Molly, Mommy, but AFTER the park, ok?"
So, we went to the park, and he was being adorable and laughing and going down the slide saying, "OH, THAT WAS FUN, MOMMY!" It was a fine decision indeed! He was wobbling across the bouncy drawbridge all by himself, and I was staying close enough to swoop in if he needed help with a potentially neck-breaking task but far enough away to let him roam independently and who cares if the dishes go unwashed another night, this is what's really important!
And then these two boys -- probably 8 years old -- came onto the scene. They started laughing and whispering to one another and walking toward my kid on the bouncey drawbridge. They saw me -- which is what really pisses me off, that they knew what they were doing IN FRONT OF THIS CHILD'S MOTHER -- and then proceeded to walk up next to him on the bridge and jump really high and hard so they could "make the baby fall." (Their words, not mine.)
He did fall and they laughed.
As I began to swoop in to get him (I had to walk up a couple steps on the playscape), the bigger one kicked him (not too hard, but just hard enough) while he tried to stand back up. And then that kid laughed some more.
I fucking saw red.
I deserve a medal for not punting those boys into the parking lot because that's what my instinct told me to do. I remained calm, told them this was a little boy they were picking on and that weren't acting like boys their age should act, and I also didn't think their mothers would be proud of their behavior (their mothers who went on to say it must have all been "a misunderstanding" but that's for another post), and then I picked Kyle up and moved him to another area of the playground.
I had a little talk with Kyle about why I did that, why I moved him away from those boys and why I didn't want him to play with them, and he looked up at me, that beautiful child of mine, and said, "yes, mommy, those boys not sweet," and then he went on to play with something else.
While my heart shattered.
The colic and the Nap Strikes and the teething and the head bonks and the projectile vomiting and all the rest of the Infant Insanity is nothing compared to the first time you witness another human being going out of their way to make your child feel small.
Yesterday, as this whole scene unfolded, I felt like there was only one other person on this planet who would feel what I felt in that moment and that person was Mike. A rush of gratitude for his mere existence came over me in the strongest and realest way. I mean, I am grateful for Mike, always, but yesterday I thought, thank FUCKING GOODNESS for Mike because in this instance he will not beg me to be rational or try to point out the opposite side's point of view. HE WILL SEE RED WITH ME. When I told him the story, hours later after he got home, I saw the red swell up in his own eyes. He said, "I would have fucking lost it."
I don't think those boys were bad kids, and that's not the point of this. I also don't think this moment scarred my own kid at all, he was just fine mere seconds later, but I will never forget what I felt in that moment, the feeling that I was created for one reason: to protect this kid, to let this stubborn, blonde-headed, sweet-eyed little boy know that he would always have someone in his corner.
I've been through a lot with him -- oh, a helluva lot, yes -- but yesterday it was so obvious to me that I went through the last two years and then the twenty-seven years before, so Kyle could have a mother.
And a mother he has.