The Candy Man Can...

It is one of the most humiliating days in a mother’s life when she realizes her child is a criminal.  The day when it all comes clear to you, the day your guilt our weights your pride, the day when you consider rehab for them.  The day where you hang your head in shame because you don’t know how on earth you will ever hold your head up high again. You just keep thinking to yourself, "How did I let this happen?"

That day was today for me.  I realize that my son may need rehab.  Yes, I said it.  My three year old super hero may need help.  He has found a force that is greater than him.  It is his weakness, his kryptonite, if you will.  What is this awful substance that is leading my precious child down the path to destruction?  CANDY!  My son is addicted.  Wakes up in the morning it is the first thing he asks for.  Heck sometimes I find it stashed in his pillow.  No joke... They were Hershey kisses.  Like many mothers, I have a bowl filled with deliciousness hidden way out of reach.  It is on top of a phone book (what other use do those ancient books have nowadays) at the peak of my fridge. My kids get candy as a reward and when we first get home they have a choice of a snack.  Good, right???

Well I guess I knew this day would be here someday just didn’t realize it would be my kid.  I thought i could turn him around.  Get him back on a sugar free path.  No more powder for this little guy --- I am talking about fun dip.... What were you thinking, ridiculous! ;)  I should have seen the signs. He was always looking to get his next piece.   He would sneak candy in the checkout lines just until you got ready to pay so that he would HAVE to get the candy bar because he said he NEEDED it.  I was just trying to make him happy.  I thought what harm one piece of candy can do. Wow was I wrong.

Then the problem got to be on a bigger scale.  He then started to blatantly unwrap the goodies in the middle of the store pop it in his mouth like someone owed him this piece.  No longer asking for the candy or even waiting to pay for it. 

Then I found the stashes of sugar delights under his pillow and in his pants pockets.  When I confronted him about the candy i had found, he clearly stated "Batman told me." Clearly delusional now losing all sense of reality.  Living in Candy Land, standing on the top of Gum Drop Mountain dancing with princess Lolly by his side.  He started passing through the house just saying "I want candy, I want candy, I want candy momma." Sounding like a broken record. 
 

But today was the last straw, I was humiliated and in shock.  My son had a problem.  I realized it when I dropped him off at daycare today and we were doing our morning routine there.  Take off coat.  Take of shoes and socks and head down stairs.  But wait what is that.  Is that a band- aid on his foot? What the... OMG!  My son sat down to take of his shoes and socks and takes of his second sock and says Tada.... Super hero laffy taffy just got pulled out of his sock!  He had smuggled candy to school today in his shoe!!!!  He says his Tada and darts down the stairs holding his victory straight up towards the sky as he gets out of my site. 

So now I have no choice but to stick him in the swamp with the Molasses monster, Lord Licorice waiting for him when he gets out and Grandma Nutt to whip him back in shape.  

:)

p.s. I am sorry I haven't blogged very much lately.  With an newly addict son, lets just say I've been running around in heels more often due to sugar intake!

Love Train

Who knew a certain noise that used to make me sigh with utter irritation, would somehow sway my feelings about it today. This same noise that has been known to cause me to be late, frustrated, and would lose sleep because it was so loud. The clickety clack almost mimicking the tick tocks of the minutes being wasted by me staring at the never ending train going by. A whistle, similar to that of a tea kettle's scream, has melted my soul. As crazy as it sounds, maybe that whistle was just screaming out the words "This is real" in the only decimal my stubborn soul could hear. Maybe my ears are left punctured by those promising everything and wounded by those who gave nothing.

 

    One last kiss and I am on the train, doing everything I can not to turn around and bolt in the other direction. In the passenger car, I sit in utter silence. My head is still swirling with what I heard this brisk morning. Those words "this is it", I've thought I have heard them before, but those times were more like a slight mumble that could easily have been misheard. Now I know I obviously misheard but this time there was no mistaking. As I sit completely alone and exhausted from the days just before, I drift off. Not to sleep, but in thought. I rest my head on my smaller luggage. Even though I am alone, I don't feel like it at all. I can still feel his presence next to me. I still hear his voice and feel his touch. My memory starts to take over; I think about our bodies lying next to one another and feeling his chest move with each breathe he took. Or how he looks when he sleeps. Or how I have to restrain from saying "I love you" every time I look into his eyes. Or how his lips felt the moment ours touch. Or that how I actually have to remind myself to breathe when he does something to take my breath away. I replay all the words he said; I suddenly realize how chilly it is on the train. The temperature doesn't help when just the thought of him gives me goose bumps.

 

    I left him that day with no regrets, no worries and no uneasiness of where this is going. Even with his name. Chris. Somehow it doesn't bother me. That name that scarred my soul so long ago doesn't seem to leave a bitter taste in my mouth when I speak it. I may never be able to call him Chris, he deserves better in my eyes. I then vow to just call him Christopher. I knew the first day I met him that I was in trouble. I have never been so nervous meeting someone. I was blushing the majority of the time that night as we sit next to the abnormally large tree in the middle of the restaurant. I couldn't even look in his eyes without smiling. I knew this was different than anything I had experienced before.

 

    The trains loud scream, disrupts my thoughts. I realize that my face is starting to ache from smiling. The train that day took on a whole new meaning. That noise, that abrupt yell, was one telling me that this was it. That I can let my guard down. That if I just give in I could experience what most people only read about. So next time I am actually looking forward to getting yelled at by that engine because it brings back my heart to me.