Ephemerence Enigmatica A fleeting look at the puzzle that is my life

Yesterday, we went out to dinner with my parents. “We” being myself, husband, 2 boys, and this time, the nanny joined us.

After dinner, the boys were overtired. Not a surprise. They were running down the hall in the mall where we were, not holding anyone’s hand. I yelled to them to stop at the door.

They didn’t.

(The fact that the nanny was right near them is a subject for another post. The fact that they’ve started running off, also a subject for another post.) Suffice to say, I ran after them, grabbed their hands and brought them back to the place they were supposed to wait.

And then I got angry at them.

And then we walked out.

And then, the words…spoken by my older son, as he walked near me, holding the nanny’s hand, and walking next to his grandmother…

“I don’t love you anymore, Mummy.”

I didn’t respond, but it took merely a half second for my mother to get defensive and start to give him what I would only call a lecture about never stopping loving someone…

I interrupted her before she got too far.

“Stop,” I told her. “He’s just a little boy. It’s how he feels at this moment. It’s okay, he’s allowed. I’m the adult, I know better.”

It felt good to say that.

My childhood, of being made to feel guilty for “hating” my mother at a given moment, for wanting to feel things that I did and express them, for not being able to do so…it all flooded back.

And I shut it up with some adult logic.

It’s about time.