( o f : A m a n d a )

i love it when....


jack holds my hand while i'm driving the car. it's usually after we haven't seen each other most the day, like when i go pick him up from dawn, or late at night. i will reach back all awkwardly and contortionist status into the back seat, and he will hold my hand. and sometimes, he takes his little thumb and rubs my hand with it, just like i do to him. sigh...happiness is holding hands with my son as my arm is falling asleep and all sorts of muscles i didn't know i had are aching. happiness is coming home to a small blonde haired blue eyed (yes matthew, i know, hitler youth) boy, who loves me, and is so smart it makes me wonder at how much we really know about children.

happiness to me is not the absence of conflict, or pain, or processing, happiness is found in the moments where jack holds my hands, tells me that he "loves you dawg" and volunteers the fact that he is "happy". there is nothing that brings an immediate soothing after a long, tiring day like my son's unconditional acceptance of me.

the flip side of that is that even now as i sit here in some sort of strange utopia about how fantastic mommy-hood is, i can hear you through the monitor, refusing to nap. jumping in your bed and talking to yourself...i swear child, nothing can calm me down or make me hot faster than you being sweet, or you being disobedient. oi vey...child...i swear...

ahhh the balance...it's a good thing i guess that he is not perfect...otherwise you wouldn't be able to tell he was related to his dad! HAHAHAH i know that was so wrong, but it was so funny...i really didn't mean that everyone, no one freak out on me, i just thought it was funny. hahahahahaha

Oh to know the freedom of truth.
To love her embrace.
To be pliable to her kneading.
In truth is beauty.
In truth is found pure nakedness.
When I am naked, I see the things I hate.
I see the things that make me sick.
I see the things that bring anger and a bitter taste to my lips.
I see betrayal. I see a cut to the very depth of my soul.

Truth has kissed me,
Let me not turn my head, no not now,
Let me not turn my head.
A kiss of sorrow.
A kiss of betrayal.
A kiss of ruin.

With truth must come growth, for when I see her, I know her.
I know more, I understand more.
She brings me age, she brings me wisdom, she brings me unbearable pain.
Truth does not smile. She does not laugh.
She is ever somber. She is ever strong.
Truth does not discriminate.
Truth tears me apart piece by piece until I am nothing but who I am.

Let me be so blessed as to know truth.
Let me be so honored as to embrace her.
Let me live my life hand in hand with her.