It's been a while since I blogged. I think like most fellow bloggers that I follow, whether it's the weather or personal issues, everyone seems to be in a fog. I question if anything is really worth blogging about. Who really cares anyway? Do I even care?
LL and I were talking the other day and she was tired of my lava cake post. I want to post something of meaning, I really do. But I feel like I'm just going through the motions. So I shall move on...
The other night as I tucked my son into bed, I noticed a bruise on his right shoulder. I hadn't noticed it before. Was I negligent? Have I been to busy to notice the small things? Have I been to wrapped up in...in what? to notice another bruise on my son? Granted it's middle of soccer season and he's a twelve year old active boy. What's another bruise in the scheme of things?
I inquired as to his bruise. Immediately his eyes misted. I pleaded with him to not cry as I felt that similar wetness seeping into my eyes. Please don't cry. Please don't let it be bad. Please don't make me be a bad mother. A mother who overlooked or missed something that was very important. Please. I tried to look away so that he would think that I was strong. Strong for him. He assured me he wasn't crying, but he and I know otherwise.
We are alike. We are one in the same. We try to be tough. We try to be strong. But, we are human. We have feelings and we have a heart of gold. And we can be hurt. We are hurt.
The bruise...a week old. A classmate, a bully had punched him in the arm. I asked if it was in fun. He questioned me as to whether or not he would have bruised if it was a punch out of fun. As a matter of fact, in the fleeting moment I recalled my Jr. High days when I pinched and punched and left bruises on boys. It wasn't out of affection, it was out of reciprocation - they taunted me, I reacted. Maybe they liked me, maybe they didn't. But his punch was from a former "friend" from years ago.
My heart ached for my son. How do I stop the pain? How do I protect him without being an overbearing mother? Do I confront this boy's mother, a woman whom I really don't like, almost loathe? Do I approach the school personnel?
My son said that he avoids him at all times now. He hasn't had any contact with him in the past week since it happened. He assured me that he didn't cry when it happened - and I cried even more for him, a pit in the bottom of my stomach. A pit that holds all the aches and pains of peer pressure and growing up and parenting. I can't fix everything for him. But I will always hold his pain, deep within me, and hope that he becomes a better and stronger person than bullies who are weak.
As I tucked my son in that night, I squeezed him harder, kissed him more and told him how much I love him. If only I could do more...
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