Love & Pancakes

So what does love equal exactly?  I suppose it’s partly our fault.  Our poor language only has one word for an emotion that spans relationships, ages and many other catagories.  Is it love I feel when I hold my son in my arms?  Is it love when I feel myself slide into my lover?  Is it love when I stand by my grandfather’s deathbed?  Is it love when I bow my head before my God?  Maybe all yes or maybe all no.  I don’t know. 

Speaking of holding my son, we had a good night tonight.  No easy thing in a household with two guys with ADHD and a lot of emotional issues at the moment.  He was wound up over the fact that some kids at his school were picking on him today.  He expressed his frustration with the fact that every time they came around the track they were “bragging” about how much farther ahead they were and that they were “better” than him.  I pushed him a bit, asking him if I said the sky was green did that make it so?  There was a small smile but his sadness is real…as his despair.  He held me close tonight and cried, cried about losing his great-grandfathers, his cousin, his mothers…  The amount of loss he has sustained in his ten years is more than I’ve experienced in my 30.  And some days I can barely hold it together.  I don’t know how he does it. 

And yet…

I’m the one he turns to for comfort and strength.  For shelter and reassurance.  Amazing.  I wonder if my own father ever felt this way.  Then there’s the matter of Cat.  She’s cute, sexy, a dancer, she likes my son.  But am I really ready to take any kind of step forward?  Is my son?  My “ex” (?) has been gone for almost 9 months.  We have moved past the point where reconsilliation (I know I spelled it wrong, it’s late…) is no longer possible nor desirable.  I’m coming to a place of peace with the idea.  But on the other hand I’m also still struggling with feelings of loss, confusion and anger.  I miss having someone to talk to.  But I don’t miss the fights. 

Another thing, I’m finally getting glimpses of what life as a single parent could be like…the good kind of glimpses, not the ones that send you off flying to find the vodka bottle, a shotgun and a strong bolt for the door.  One where I can handle all the responsibilites of managing a household, dual schedules and the like.  Okay, so maybe I can’t be supermom…or even superdad, but I can feel proud that I haven’t let things fall apart so far.  And that too is a feeling to be cherished, nurtured.  As is the relationship I’m begining to have again with my son. 

So can I put that in jepardy for my own selfish reasons?  Should I?  This is the first time I’ve been single for any extended period of time in more than 10 years.  I’m acutally kinda enjoying it.  Why should I stop?

Tomorrow is picture day and grandparents day at the soccer fields.  I told my son I’d fix him pancakes for breakfast.  Not that I’ve ever fixed pancakes, but I’ve got a box of mix and the rest of the ingrediants in the fridge. 

Maybe part of the point is in the trying…

Pancakes for breakfast it is.