I had a date scheduled for tonight, but it was an Adult Date. With all that that implies. Therefore, I had to schedule the thing around my offspring. Which didn't work out so well.
The logistics of the whole Adult Dating thing trump the minutiae going on inside my churny head. Though that's no small potatoes, believe you me. Hector pointed out that I was insane, that I was contradicting myself from sentence to sentence, and that I should, in his words, "just relax and be happy." The outlines were clear as day, after all--I was completely assured in my own wants & needs, and it shouldn't have been a dark and spongy mess in my brain. But it's almost impossible to quiet that thing. It has a mind of its own, my mind. Again: my body is pretty simple (and yet, so sweet and deep); my heart is the one true thing, yet still can be muffled or inhibited by my mind; and then the brain starts comparing, contrasting, creating Level III questions and keeping me up nights.
Stop thinking, Aimee.
I couldn't find anyone to take my child for the night, and there was no way I was going to let loose with her in the building. It's just a given. But she surprised me, today, asking if I was upset that my date had been cancelled. I goggled at her; she wouldn't meet my eyes, and her face looked tremulous and tired. She lay on the couch with a quilt over her, watching "LA Ink" on Netflix, and her spiderhands were twitching on the gorgeous hardwood. I lunged on her and clasped her to my heart--she's taller than I am, now, and cuddling her so is awkward and painful at times, but I wanted to crush her to me to underscore my words, which were coming from all three of me, my body, my heart, my mind.
"You are the best thing, the only thing, in my life," I said. "You mean more to me than anything. The date was nothing compared to you--the disappointment is NOTHING." She smiled a little. There were tears in her eyes, wobbling on her lower lashes; at this point I felt like the Worst Mother In The World, but it's not as if that feeling isn't familiar. "Honey, I would rather spend my time with you, and if a date doesn't work out, it's no big deal. Please don't even give it another thought."
"I want you to be happy," she said.
"I am happy," I told her. (And realized, as I said it, that it was true.) "It doesn't bother me that it didn't work out for tonight. It bothers me that you're upset."
"I just didn't want to be in the way," she said.
"You ARE the way," I said, and pinched her.
I hope, I hope, I hope I got this across to her. She trumps everyone in my book. Maybe if I'd had another child, she'd have a rival for my blighted love; maybe they'd pit me in a battle between the two siblings. Maybe. It's a moo point. Yes, I have a life of my own; yes, I have thoughts and emotions and needs, ew, gross, I said it, needs...but she's the first checkpoint in all of that. Weird.
Maybe I am not like my mother, after all. It's a good takeaway.
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