A Boy Alone on a Swing

Drew. Usually when people ask me about my kids, if they know them, I will say, "Drew? Well, he's just... Drew.". I love the boy to death. He is adorable, says funny things at the right moments, and is unbelievably sweet. But, MY GOD... he is so ridiculously stubborn. He doesn't listen to anything, and he doesn't share his toys. Every morning I have to plan at least 10 minutes to get out the door and into the car, because I have to say, "Shoes on, coat on, no toys, get in your seat, sit down..." 50 times. I can only describe it as some invisible barrier between the two of us, where anything I say just doesn't get through. I think he has all the intentions of doing what he is told, but he just doesn't. Everything is a battle: eating, taking a nap, going to bed, taking a shower, getting dressed... I'm exhausted by 10 am. I do pick my battles. I let him choose his clothes so he won't fight me there, I let him wear his rain boots when it's sunny, I only give him what I know he'll eat, and he still fights me every step of the way. Drew does what Drew wants to do, and he doesn't give a hoot about anyone around him. Honestly, I love it. He doesn't care if his hair's not done and he looks goofy (Nate is particularly careful with that), he'll wear whatever hat he feels like wearing at that moment, and he proudly parades his 2 blankies, teddy bear, and stuffed dog where ever we go. He loves clothes that are loud, and expressive. He chose the hideously ugly McQueen hat at Disney, and it's his favorite hat. (picture a giant stuffed McQueen car sitting on your head. Yeah, that's it) He loves Wubbzy, a totally goofy cartoon. All of this, describes him. So when I say, "He's just Drew" people get it. I know when he's in school he won't be swayed by what's popular, and I'm sure he'll be popular because he has such confidence in everything he does. I admire it of him. All this being said, I'll get to the events that threw me into this blog.

It was our usual morning, but this morning we were going to a moms group event after we dropped Nate off at school. So everyone (including me this time) had to be ready to go by 9am. At the group, he refused to play upstairs. And of course, getting him to clean up was a battle. So we come home and I make PB&J for lunch, which he decides is better for playing with a squishing between 2 plates. I told the boys I would take them to the park, but I needed to clean for a little before we left. They were told to pick up the toys. Not only did he refuse to do it, but somehow got into some stickers and had them all over. "Clean up the stickers." Yeah right. I sent him to his room since he wasn't helping and he wouldn't stay there. Since I didn't have the time to hold the door shut, I decided to just ignore him. (It's easier than fighting a battle I know I'll never win.) I was tempted to cancel the park, but Nate was being so good and helpful, I didn't think it was fair to him. We had our usual 10 minute trip from the front door to the car, and Drew decided to unbuckle his seat belt on the way. I picked up a friend and her daughter, and we left for the park. I was so frustrated with him by this point, it would have been punishment to me if I made him sit with me. He came over once and said, "Mom, I need help." I said, "If you can't do it yourself, don't do it." I was in no mood to get up and play. A few minutes later I saw him sitting in a swing. He sat there for 5 minutes, still. I had the urge to get up and push him, but I didn't. He eventually got down and did something else. He got into it with some other girl over a toy, and I took him to the car while my friend pushed Nate on the tire swing. We went home, my friend took Matt for a few hours, and I put Drew down for a nap.

Now I am here, blogging, and I can not get the image of Drew sitting on the swing by himself waiting for me, out of my head. I am typing, and crying, and I feel horrible. Parents are supposed to be bigger... not let their emotions get in the way of their child relationships. I should have gotten up. I let him down. Sitting there, to me he was a crushed little boy let down by his mother. To anyone else, he was a boy, alone, on a swing.