I'll Be Honest

It’s a fine line between laughing and crying these days. In fact I did both quite excellently at the same time today. The tears flowed freely down my laughing face and it seemed to Brendan that I was happy but inside I was absolutely crying.

This was new for me. Often enough I break into frustrated laughter when the energetic boy-child pushes me beyond my limits. This kind of laughter includes crazy eyes but the child never seems to realize my cackling has otherwise replaced the violent act I had imagined doing to him for a split second.

He knows instinctively when I’m weak, when I need solitude and silence like I need air. That’s when he goes in for the kill. He finds me hiding in the last corner of the house that isn’t piled high with clothing, infested with fruit-flies or down-wind of that poopy diaper I can’t find. He sits down with a mischievous look on his face. I hide my face in my arms above my knees hoping he’ll lose interest. He doesn’t. He reaches out his foot to touch mine. I move. He slides his foot across the floor to make contact again. I move again and say in my best irritated voice, “BRENDAN!” And then it happens. He slowly slides his tiny toes across the floor again, rests one little toe on top of mine and effectively shatters my last retaining wall. I simply fall apart. My head flies back, the tears flow and it would seem that I am laughing. But I am actually crying… feeling all the exhaustion and lack of personal time, space and sleep.

“Success!” he thinks to himself. “I’ve made her happy, again.” And he joins me in the maniacal laughter.