There have been times when I wondered if my children were ever going to grow up. The emotional delay that accompanies children from difficult beginnings makes growing up seem like just a dream–a dream unattainable.
Today, I am in bed with a horrible migraine, the kind that replicates scenes from the Exorcist. I’m ugly sick. When my 17-year-old son came home from school today, the first thing he asked was, “How are you feeling Mom?” Then he waited to hear the answer, and refrained following up with a request to be logged into his computer. Instead, he asked if the dogs needed to be feed or if I needed anything. Who is this kid?
Later, I remembered he had started his laundry last night and didn’t put it in the dryer. I literally held my head in my hands and yelled from my bed, “Hey Buddy, will you work on your laundry, the dog poop, and cat poop?” About 2 seconds passed before he yelled back, “Oh yeah,” and I heard him move quickly toward the laundry room, then to the backyard, and finally the garage. He washed a few of his dishes in the sink, too.
Wow, something is changing. Not everything, just some really incredible things. The gremlin on my left shoulder whispers, Don’t get too excited; this is probably a one step forward, two steps back moment. The Warrior Mamma in me would slap that gremlin and be dancing a little jig if she didn’t have such a headache, because she is seeing that her baby, who has been dragging his feet into the world, is actually becoming a thoughtful, loving person.
Sick days rock sometimes.