I don’t know what to say to you. I know what I feel, but I’m not sure words do the depth of these feelings justice.
It was a battle for you to even have been born. Not just the InVitro, which had only a 15% success rate at that time. There was also the threat to our lives from your ectopic twin, almost rupturing my tube while I was all alone in the middle of the night as the Tornado sirens were sounding. Together we made it through the emergency surgery to remove that tube.
When you were born, I remember all the parenting books saying that I should talk to you. So we’d sit in the rocker in my bedroom sitting room and I’d talk. Sometimes I’d be so tired that I didn’t even know what I was saying. Once I told you that if I knew the Theory of Relativity I’d teach it to you, but I didn’t know it. Did I really say that to an infant? I did.
You were always reticent. I remember going to play group and by the time you were ready to leave my lap and engage, it was over. Nonetheless we did everything together: Mommy and Me, Play group, Gymboree, Storytime. You name it, we did it.
You are, you always have been, a unique person. The perspective you bring to most everything makes me smile. Even when it’s infuriating me. Which, as you well know, is often.
When you started school, I went through withdrawal. I know you think that you started pre-school half days and then full days before elementary school to ease you in, but you weren’t the only one who needed easing.
When you started school, I went through withdrawal. I know you think that you started pre-school half days and then full days before elementary school to ease you in, but you weren’t the only one who needed easing.
When you started Kindergarten your teacher asked the parents to write a few words about their kids. I wrote a three page dissertation. But I had nothing to worry about, you were smart, athletic, happy, and popular. You made everyone laugh.
I volunteered in your classes weekly and was chosen the Head Room Mom in your classrooms every year. I practiced with you and then watched you achieve all of your belts in taekwondo, sat at baseball, soccer, basketball games, track meets, talent shows.
I knew all of your addictions, starting with Peter Jennings before you could even talk and right up through the unrelenting never-ending skateboarding days. The other Moms didn’t like their kids skateboarding. I bought tickets to the Huckjam, drove you to skate parks, read skaters’ biographies, sat downtown in 100 degree weather when a visiting skater came to town, even got on one myself while the neighbors stood outside with their cell phones ready to call an ambulance.
I rooted for you. I plead your case. I stuck up for you.
I don’t know what happened, Son. Really I don’t. I know some of it. I know that I didn’t know soon enough. I didn’t fight hard enough. The extent escaped me and I let you down. In a way that I can never make up for. I accept full responsibility.
I was recently told “you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink”. The example given was that if someone is in a wheelchair and you try to stand them up and each day they refuse to take a step, you eventually stop. I made it clear, in no uncertain terms, just how vehemently I reject this premise. That person must be stood, every day, no matter what. Because I’ll be damned if the one day he might have taken a step was going to turn out to be the one day no one tried. Not on my watch.
I’d like to say that I’m supported in this battle, but clearly I’m not. I don’t care, I’ll fight alone. The one I miss the most is you.
I’d like to say that I’m supported in this battle, but clearly I’m not. I don’t care, I’ll fight alone. The one I miss the most is you.
You can keep beating me down, but I’ll keep standing back up. Because I’m standing for you.
I know that I’m now the enemy. I hope that someday you’ll forgive me and consider that I’m not fighting against you. I’m fighting for you. Even though it’s you I’m fighting.
I was recently challenged with putting my feelings about you into 20 words or less. Dissertations would not be accepted. This is what I wrote:
All you’ve accomplished shows how strong you are.
All you’ve conquered shows how brave you are.
So Proud. Every Day.
Happy Birthday.
I love you like crazy.
Mom
Chocolate and Mint, I know all of your favorites
Chocolate Mint Cupcakes
©www.BakingInATornado.com
©www.BakingInATornado.com
Ingredients, Cake:
1 stick butter, softened
1 cup sugar
4 eggs
1 1/4 cups flour
3/4 tsp baking soda
1 can Hershey’s chocolate syrup (16 oz)
1 tsp vanilla
Ingredients, Frosting:
8 oz bar cream cheese, softened
1 stick butter, softened
3 1/2 cups powdered sugar
(up to) 3TBSP of milk
1 tsp mint extract
Green food coloring
Ingredients, Drizzle:
1/3 cup chocolate chips
2 TBSP heavy cream
1 tsp mint extract
1/4 cup powdered sugar
Directions:
*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 24 cupcake cups with paper liners.
*Beat butter, sugar and eggs until smooth.
* Mix in 1 cup of flour, then half of the chocolate syrup.
*Mix in the rest of the flour and the baking soda, then the rest of the chocolate syrup and the vanilla.
*Divide the batter into the 24 cupcake liners. Bake for approximately 18 minutes, or until the center springs back to the touch. Cool completely.
*Beat the cream cheese and butter until smooth. Add the powdered sugar, mint extract and green food coloring. Add the milk, 1 TBSP at a time until it’s a good piping consistency. Put into piping bag and pipe onto cooled cupcakes.
*Melt the chocolate chips and heavy cream in the microwave for 30 seconds. Stir. Keep melting at 15 second intervals until smooth. Stir in the mint extract and powdered sugar. Drizzle over top of cupcakes.
