Saturday, November 28, 2009

I Know One Person Who Really Is
a Cotton-Headed Ninny-Muggins *

This eviction/moving during the holidays that my son's dad has initiated is kind of taking its toll on the kiddo, who doesn't understand what's going on and who feels stressed out by the uncertainty of the situation. To make matters worse, his dad hasn't spoken about it with him at any length, although the kiddo says he's (the kiddo's) brought it up.

Tonight the kiddo came back from spending the holiday at his dad's house. They had a lot of fun and ate Thanksgiving dinner on a yacht. The kiddo also finally mastered riding a two-wheeler, which is great, considering we don't live in an area where practicing such a skill is convenient (busy streets, lots of hills, etc.). He's so proud of himself, but later he told me, "I'm sorry I learned how to ride a two-wheeler without you, Mommy." ?? I told him it was perfectly fine with me, and after he gets really good we'll go for a ride together. He liked that.

But the kiddo had a meltdown when I casually mentioned I'd looked at some apartments today. He's very sad he won't be getting a "little brother" (I'd considered moving in with a friend and her little boy), and it stresses him out that his parents have such different approaches to the same subject. That is, he's stressed that I talk about things and his dad won't. Mind you, I'm not laying my feelings on the kiddo or constantly talking about the move as each development happens. Nothing of the sort. However, when the kiddo asks me a question, I answer it. It seems that his dad does not.

The kiddo mentioned a week ago that he'd told his dad, "You made Mommy cry when she got the eviction notice." Then the kiddo told me he thought it seemed like Daddy regretted that. I know his dad well enough to know what his responses will likely be to certain things, so I asked the kiddo if his dad had made a sad face. "Yes!" he replied. "And he also said 'aw'." Bingo. The classic non-response. And not regretful in the least. Totally predictable.

Some day the kiddo is going to figure out what kind of person his dad is, and he's going to be terribly disappointed, and I will be picking up the pieces. Kind of like I am now.

Tonight, after the kiddo cried his eyes out, I put on some funny videos on YouTube. We watched Gallagher smash watermelons, and watched David Letterman and his crew drop various items off a rooftop. Utterly mindless, stupid stuff that made us giggle. Afterward, I asked the kiddo if he wanted to go out for a treat, even though it was bedtime. He was delighted, so off we went in search of ice cream.

When we got back, we watched the beginning of Elf on TV and I lightly tickled the kiddo's feet, just the way he likes. At the first commercial, we went upstairs so he could get ready for bed, and I put Vaseline on his terribly chapped knuckles. (His dad puts hydrocortisone on them, which makes them worse, I believe. Let's just say I put Vaseline on them all last week and they were healed, and after a few days of hydrocortisone, they were the worst I'd seen them.) I scratched the kiddo's head a bit, at his request, and he fell asleep right away.


I'm sure in the morning his mood will be sorted out, more or less. I wish he didn't have to go to his dad's at all, as I feel it does more harm than good in the long run. *sigh* Nine more years of having to deal with the kiddo's dad. In the meantime, I'll be shoring up moods and chapped knuckles and disappointments. Just like always.

* From the movie Elf.