It was my 5th

and it was so many years ago. A dear friend reminded me of a post I did a long time ago, and well my apologies to all of you who have already read it a million times, but it's the mood I'm in today, so here it is - posted in it's entirety

Saturday, November 13, 2004

I'm feeling my age today. Okay, so 37 isn't that old, but after a day of chasing 7 year olds I feel like I just want to close my eyes and let Calgon take me away. My Princess slept over at her best friends house last night. I got the call about 9:30 this morning.... "mom, we want to go roller blading today". So after talking to Moho's (mind of her own's) mom, it was decided that I would pick the girls up at noon, take them to lunch, then to skating and return Moho about 4:15 after skating was done. What was I thinking?! Now my princess and her best friend get along for one very important reason - none of their other friends have the patience to put up with either one of them. Not to say they don't have other friends. Suprisingly they are both quite popular, it's just their other little girlfriends seem to get bossed around a lot.

Mine suffers from "only child syndrome". Moho suffers from "middle child syndrome". They are equally matched in a battle of the wills, and depending on the day one or the other of them is bound to break out in bouts of crying over not getting her own way. Today it was my princess that was the emotional wreck, and by the time we made it safely back to our house, she collapsed on the couch, snuggled up with her bear and asked for a movie. I put in Cinderella Story (which after 1/2 hour she insisted she didn't want to watch any more and then launched into a new tantrum when i told her it was too late to change her mind.... >sigh<).

So, I am tired not only from the rollerblading (3 hours UGH) but from working overtime in the mom department. Thankfully all princess wanted for dinner was a grilled cheese. I headed to the kitchen to get her highness food. This was where the rest of my night went awry.
The bread in my kitchen is next to the toaster. On the side of the toaster is a piece of construction paper, with the word toaster written in marker. I made that sign at least 5 years ago, when my son was in preschool and learning to read. We made signs for everything, microwave, light, bookshelf, stove.... Since he died the signs have come down. Princess has been reading for a while, so there is no need for them. No need for them, except this one: toaster. It's on the side of the toaster and usually facing the wall. Out of sight out of mind. Grief has a way of catching you sideways when you least expect it. How or why the toaster was sitting the other way on my shelf tonight I don't know. But I went to grab bread to make a grilled cheese and there was that piece of paper. Toaster. Briefly my mind went back to his little fingers touching and retouching letters and - I caught my breath and squeezed the tears out of my eyes and went back to cooking dinner.

But now princess is sound asleep, and I have time for me. Time to cry over the stupid toaster. Time to wish that instead of dealing with a stubborn spoiled only child that I was dealing with sibling rivalry and "mom he's touching me" and "mom she won't stay out of my room". How I grieve for the son I will never know. The nine year old who I'm sure would be too sensitive and too smart for his own good. I look around me and feel so blessed for all that I have. Yet nothing will ever patch this one empty hole in my life. And I would never want it to be patched, for this awful feeling, this feeling that takes my breath away from me, it is all that I have left of him...