My little boy, who would not be caught dead being called "little", was in a mood for an adventure. I asked him what he would like to do. He said, "Mom, I want to see big waves in the ocean." So we dressed for the ocean, and I took the convertible, set the car seat on heat mode and blasted the hot air into the car, and off we went on an adventure. I knew where to go, it had to be Ocean Beach. I knew what he would want to do for dinner. He'd want sushi. Boy loved sushi and ocean. Boy was just like every boyfriend I had in my 20s who loved the beach and sushi, but this was truly my boy, I did not have to impress him, he was already impressed. I was his mother. I knew just about everything, to him, right now, anyway.
My children had natural high happiness odometer. It was always part nature part nurture, no matter how I felt, I never let myself affecting my children. It would be cruel and selfish to inflict sadness, despair or pain onto your children. I gave them a happy presence whenever I was with them. I learned from my parents' mistakes.
Off we went. It was a beautiful day at the beach. Gorgeous sandy beach with roses all around us. I took his hand and we walked to the ocean, the waves were high and the sun light was strong. There were adults and children, dogs and sea birds. We were spotted by a few, so they asked if they could take photos of us, and they did. And I got to keep a few. We walked for a long ways, and then we walked back. He picked sand dollars, dead crab shells, dead jellyfish, sea glass and other things that little boy found fascinating. He laughed at my mispronunciations and he cracked jokes. This was a happy little six year old. He took careful measures of the depth of sea water. He was an avid swimmer, but he did not want waves to come too high. He was a cautious, calculating boy who took care of himself well and his belonging. Using his crocs he put his collections in while holding them. I then put car keys and phone in my boots, as we both walked on the sandy beach barefoot, we laughed at ourselves and we screamed with joy when we stumbled onto something neat, be it a piece of seashell or long string of rope. He later told grandpa we found treasures one could not be found in other sites. He made up stories and told me as if they were reality, perhaps they were reality of his.
When the sun was setting we walked barefoot, nearly frozen toed, to our car. There we cleaned up and drove to Japantown for sushi. Boy loved sushi as much as he loved the ocean.
He said, "mom, I'm glad that we did not fly kite, there was no wind." Boy's perfect vision involved driving the car with the top down, flying kite, walking on the beach and sushi after. He had just described a date I once had with a man I loved, when I was in my twenties. It stirred a side of me that only I could understand, but boy already left that train of thought for me to chew on, and he was already onto something else. "I want California roll and tobiko sushi." He requested. I sometimes made decisions for him, but ever since my children were little, before they could talk, I asked them for their opinions on things to do, events to attend, or just in general, nothing in particular. I was not exactly the type A person when it came to those I loved. I made concessions. I let them make decisions. I did not care whose idea it was, I liked to give them options.
Boy did not ever abuse that power. Boy would make suggestions but also looked for directions from his mother. At the restaurant we ordered things swiftly. Boy had forgotten to eat lunch. He blamed on the adults who failed to inform him about lunch. "You can't blame me. We left the house in the middle of the afternoon, way pass lunch time." I told him. Boy was not complaining that much even though he was hungry. He was hungry but he wanted what he wanted to eat. Sushi, then burgers. Those were his food.
We listened to Sirus radio on the way back, kids station and we laughed at the silly lyrics while we drove home after a nice break from the routine.
At home my boy enjoyed his alone bath time. He sang and he told his grandpa about his day with his mother. He was a good kid with a happy disposition. He was not always like that. He was always very sick and he was often in the hospital. I thought I'd lose him when he was just a baby.
I didn't have time to be heart broken when my mission was to save his life. When everything ended I did not know what to think. I had to fill a void. When I had nothing to worry I started to worry about myself. A sexless marriage, a passionless future, an emotional black hole that left empty when I last felt anything at all in my 20s, the life not led.
I only had a few years left with the boy before he'd be into his own things and stop hanging out with this parent. It already happened with his older sister.
That's perhaps one of the reasons I needed something, someone else to care about. I needed to feel needed, wanted and loved.
That's what we women wanted at the end of the day. It's love that mattered.
My children had natural high happiness odometer. It was always part nature part nurture, no matter how I felt, I never let myself affecting my children. It would be cruel and selfish to inflict sadness, despair or pain onto your children. I gave them a happy presence whenever I was with them. I learned from my parents' mistakes.
Off we went. It was a beautiful day at the beach. Gorgeous sandy beach with roses all around us. I took his hand and we walked to the ocean, the waves were high and the sun light was strong. There were adults and children, dogs and sea birds. We were spotted by a few, so they asked if they could take photos of us, and they did. And I got to keep a few. We walked for a long ways, and then we walked back. He picked sand dollars, dead crab shells, dead jellyfish, sea glass and other things that little boy found fascinating. He laughed at my mispronunciations and he cracked jokes. This was a happy little six year old. He took careful measures of the depth of sea water. He was an avid swimmer, but he did not want waves to come too high. He was a cautious, calculating boy who took care of himself well and his belonging. Using his crocs he put his collections in while holding them. I then put car keys and phone in my boots, as we both walked on the sandy beach barefoot, we laughed at ourselves and we screamed with joy when we stumbled onto something neat, be it a piece of seashell or long string of rope. He later told grandpa we found treasures one could not be found in other sites. He made up stories and told me as if they were reality, perhaps they were reality of his.
When the sun was setting we walked barefoot, nearly frozen toed, to our car. There we cleaned up and drove to Japantown for sushi. Boy loved sushi as much as he loved the ocean.
He said, "mom, I'm glad that we did not fly kite, there was no wind." Boy's perfect vision involved driving the car with the top down, flying kite, walking on the beach and sushi after. He had just described a date I once had with a man I loved, when I was in my twenties. It stirred a side of me that only I could understand, but boy already left that train of thought for me to chew on, and he was already onto something else. "I want California roll and tobiko sushi." He requested. I sometimes made decisions for him, but ever since my children were little, before they could talk, I asked them for their opinions on things to do, events to attend, or just in general, nothing in particular. I was not exactly the type A person when it came to those I loved. I made concessions. I let them make decisions. I did not care whose idea it was, I liked to give them options.
Boy did not ever abuse that power. Boy would make suggestions but also looked for directions from his mother. At the restaurant we ordered things swiftly. Boy had forgotten to eat lunch. He blamed on the adults who failed to inform him about lunch. "You can't blame me. We left the house in the middle of the afternoon, way pass lunch time." I told him. Boy was not complaining that much even though he was hungry. He was hungry but he wanted what he wanted to eat. Sushi, then burgers. Those were his food.
We listened to Sirus radio on the way back, kids station and we laughed at the silly lyrics while we drove home after a nice break from the routine.
At home my boy enjoyed his alone bath time. He sang and he told his grandpa about his day with his mother. He was a good kid with a happy disposition. He was not always like that. He was always very sick and he was often in the hospital. I thought I'd lose him when he was just a baby.
I didn't have time to be heart broken when my mission was to save his life. When everything ended I did not know what to think. I had to fill a void. When I had nothing to worry I started to worry about myself. A sexless marriage, a passionless future, an emotional black hole that left empty when I last felt anything at all in my 20s, the life not led.
I only had a few years left with the boy before he'd be into his own things and stop hanging out with this parent. It already happened with his older sister.
That's perhaps one of the reasons I needed something, someone else to care about. I needed to feel needed, wanted and loved.
That's what we women wanted at the end of the day. It's love that mattered.
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