He is a quirky kid

I am not sure what happened exactly. Zach and I have had many "come to Jesus" discussions before and nothing made a difference. But two days ago we had it out, some yelling and crying on both sides, and here he is now behaving like a normal, and I use that term loosely, ten year old boy.

It seems that he was worried that I did not love him. I did not realize my hesitance to say those three little words in the last six months or so was apparent. I resist saying it to anyone now. I just do not want to be hurt again I guess, so I just don't tell anyone how I feel. The little guy noticed.

In reflecting over so much of my life lately, trying to make some sense of so much, I came to the conclusion that all my plans and wants for my life were just that, plans. I honestly believe that there is a predetermined path at the end, as you all know, and that getting there is more my choice. Am I supposed to have Zach in my life? I am not sure, but I like having him in my life, as big a pain in the behind as he is. He is a quirky kid for sure. Yesterday he pulled out every Lego he owns and built some elaborate scene where Sponge Bob joined forces with the Cast of Star Wars and some pirates in order to save the world. I laughed pretty hard.

Where my brother and I used to put on skits and musical shows for my mother, Zach enacted a sort of sitcom with building blocks. What I really think has made a difference is that Zach is starting to realize that he is just a ten year old kid and not an adult. I had so much of my childhood stolen from me, and I hate that. When I write about being a kid, they are isolated incidents of childhood sweetness. Most of my memories, and they continue to flood back into my consciousness, are about responsibility, anger, pain and fear. I do not want that for Zach. I want him to remember happy times. I hope I am up to the task.

I think I have it in me. One little boy, who I affectionately called Monkey, once asked me if he had to leave and go home because he "would miss me too much." I thought that was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. Then my nephew said to me last week, "I'm so glad you are home, Aunt Chele. I have really missed you." I don't live there.

What I am getting at is that somewhere inside I have it in me to be a great mom. Someone out there would be saying "he told me so." Still I am scared most of the time of the choices I make, hoping that I don't screw this kid up somehow.