the seduction began in the kitchen..
food is love.
and i can whip up some love..
we both worked late hours
she was in retail management and on her feet all day
we would roll in about the same time
cooking was not a passion for her
so i gladly took on the role.
and usually within 30 minutes dinner was on the table
i remember one time, not long after she had moved in with me..
she had the day off of work
and had decided to make dinner for me..
i came home and found her crying on the kitchen floor
she was trying to make lasagna for the first time ever..
and the noodles were falling apart and ripped
i sat her down at the kitchen table
kissed away her tears
and we made lasagna roll-ups together
best lasagna i ever had
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Grew overnight
I looked at my son and he had grown a half inch over night. He has a beard on his chin and his eyes are clear as we talk at breakfast.
Sitting at the same table, talking at breakfast. such a simple thing. Like a ping pong ball the conversation goes merrily back and forth across the table. Boing, bing! boing Bing!
Oh true, he hops up and down, circles the kitchen a few times and fiddles as he eats, but he's verbally calm.
We head off to the doctor. We've been going for his checkups every year with new challenges and strategies to manage his mental illness, but he's quite healthy physically. He's banged up and scarred, from football slides on the turf and skinned knees from falls, but overall he's the picture of a well developed child. Sorry, teen. He does not like the word child anymore.
I got him an appointment with our wise, relaxed male pediatrician, because he's at that age where having his family jewels checked embarrasses him. He already told me he is going to refuse, and I told him at 17, I would not insist, because I remember an exam from my teen years that I could have died after.
And he does resist when the time comes.
and. Here's the really big thing. He talked to the doctor. He answered his questions. And he spoke for himself. Quietly, with clarity and with directness.
He explained very clearly how his suicide ideations occur, how he handles them, and how he safeguards against any injury.
"I keep away from weapons and things when I am angry till I calm down. " my clear headed son tells the doctor. A perfect answer.
They talked man to man.
I was so proud.
Sitting at the same table, talking at breakfast. such a simple thing. Like a ping pong ball the conversation goes merrily back and forth across the table. Boing, bing! boing Bing!
Oh true, he hops up and down, circles the kitchen a few times and fiddles as he eats, but he's verbally calm.
We head off to the doctor. We've been going for his checkups every year with new challenges and strategies to manage his mental illness, but he's quite healthy physically. He's banged up and scarred, from football slides on the turf and skinned knees from falls, but overall he's the picture of a well developed child. Sorry, teen. He does not like the word child anymore.
I got him an appointment with our wise, relaxed male pediatrician, because he's at that age where having his family jewels checked embarrasses him. He already told me he is going to refuse, and I told him at 17, I would not insist, because I remember an exam from my teen years that I could have died after.
And he does resist when the time comes.
and. Here's the really big thing. He talked to the doctor. He answered his questions. And he spoke for himself. Quietly, with clarity and with directness.
He explained very clearly how his suicide ideations occur, how he handles them, and how he safeguards against any injury.
"I keep away from weapons and things when I am angry till I calm down. " my clear headed son tells the doctor. A perfect answer.
They talked man to man.
I was so proud.
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