Torn

I've been stewing over this post for days and the situation for even longer.

My son.

My darling (just turned three-year-old) son.

I know who he is, I know how he operates, I know what he loves, I know what really pisses him off.

He is passionate. He is lively. He is intense. Both inward and outward. He is active. He is considerate. He says, "I love you." He gives hugs. He gives compliments. He gets upset that the Verizon "worker men" are working in the front yard during "dinner time" and he worries that they are thirsty.

He sucks his thumb. He loves all soft things. He loves to rub his soft green blankey along his nose. But he'll use my robe if that's not available.

He loves to play in the dirt and he loves to ride his bike. He knows how to pedal but he'd really rather push it really really fast with his feet.


He loves to spin around really really fast until he falls down.

He likes his privacy when he poos. (But don't we all?)

He doesn't like loud noises. He runs from the vaccuum.

He can kick a soccer ball and hit a baseball. He's got quite an arm.

He knows all about the ocean and space, and especially the earth ("Dat's where we wiv, Mommy!")

He'll throw something when he's mad (wonder where he gets that from...)

He'll jump into my bed at 6:30 in the morning and snuggle until we hear the garbage trucks outside and then he'll jump up and run out to the front to wave and watch them go by.

I never have the heart to tell him one of his cars is broken beyond repair. He is always devastated.

He loves his daddy with everything he is. Mommy runs a distant second.

He loves Busch Gardens and can spend the entire day sitting on the train that goes around the park.

He loves chocolate milk and candy and lollipops and chocolate and cake and cookies and he would eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks if Mommy would allow this.

But he will also eat broccoli and sometimes Mommy doesn't even have to beg or bribe.

We have a song we sing on Taco night. Which is Monday.

He'll sit still in a movie theater and he'll wonder out loud during the quiet parts if someone in the movie is ok when it looks like they aren't.

He doesn't make a mess when he eats. Usually.

He's a grazer. He won't sit and eat big huge meals unless they are cookies or candy or lollipops or chocolate.

He'll stop wherever he is and wave to a plane going by above him.

He'll wear his fireman hat and boots everywhere if I let him. And I do. Mostly.

You see, he is this little person. He loves hard and he plays even harder. He loves learning and he loves his people and he has likes and dislikes and wants and needs. Like a real person. He is Curious with a capital "C". And not shy. At all.

I know how to handle his outbursts and his intensity. Mostly. He's just not a "just sit there and do nothing" kind of guy. So sometimes he needs some guidance.

But I believe in him. I don't just see his potential, I know his potential. I see it every day. I see his ability to focus on building a tower or play quietly at the table for more than an hour. I see his curiousity and I see waves of learning wash over him when he figures out a puzzle. Pride and excitement and accomplishment.

Don't get me wrong, I also see him when he gets frustrated or angry, or when he dumps toys out on the floor and takes things from his brother.

But he is three. I don't actually know many three-year-olds who don't do this. So I do a lot of repeating myself. It kind of comes with the territory.

But in the end, he knows the rules.

And I'm torn. I've been in agony all week and I just don't know what to do. And it kills me to not be able to get into specifics because I would love your opinion.


But when people don't see him like I do, when they try to tell me what they believe after spending only a few short hours a week with him (and fewer when he's sick, and believe me, that's a lot), it upsets me.

And then I don't know if it's just me or if it's them. Or both. Then I feel like I am "selling" him. Like I need to make believers out of non-believers. And then it gets frustrating. And then I question myself.

Am I doing the right thing? Am I seeing things clearly?

But in the end, none of that matters.

Because it's going to be our family who decides what and how we are going to handle it. And what I want most of all is to make the best decision for him. One that is (nearly) unbiased. That is clear-headed. And above all, correct. And I am in agony. How will I know if the decision I make is the right one?

And honestly, thinking about making decisions like these when he has just turned three seems a little ludicrous to me. And I wonder how much we are actually supposed to expect from these tiny people and if somewhere along the way it has gotten completely out of control. After all, aren't all tiny people works in progress?

And then honestly, on top of the frustration (which is mounting), there is a growing bitterness. Which makes me believe that maybe it's just not a good fit at all.

Oh how I wish this answer was easy. I wish I could figure it out as un-emotionally as possible. But I am an emotional person. And I'm always emotional when it comes to my babies.

I just don't know what to do.

Torn

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