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Everyone is sitting around the dinner table. My heart hurts with how much love is in this room. How my whole world is around this dinner table. I was once worried I wouldn’t be able to love anyone as much as I loved my husband, not even our own child.
But that fear was baseless. I fell in love with our little Theo as soon as I let myself relax and embrace the idea of becoming a mother. When he was born and placed on my chest, I cried tears of joy. He was so tiny, a head full of dark hair. So fragile and so bloody perfect. I’ve never wanted to wrap something up and hide it—hidethem all—away from the world so badly before. If I could lock us in a vault and never have to face the dangers of outside, I would.
That’s no life for a child though. I’ve worked hard on dealing with my anxieties and overbearing mothering over the years. I want my kids to experience everything this world has to offer. I want them to be boys and explore. But I also want them to be safe… to never feel pain.
Did I used to freak out and call the doctor every time Theo scraped his knees, or hit his head on something when he was a toddler? Yes, I might have. But to his credit, the doctor humored me and always came to check him over.
By the time Romeo came along, I’ve pretty much eased a lot of those worries. I know kids fall, scrape knees, lose teeth, etc. But I would appreciate it if Romeo and Luca would just take life a little less rough than what Theo and Matteo seem to. Those two are always getting into scrapes at school. T says it’s normal for boys to fight. I think he forgets that I used to be a teacher at one point in time. And it’snot normalto be called up to the school every other week because your third-grader (or your first-grader) has beaten up another student. They’re always tight-lipped too. Never really give much of a reason as to why they started a fight, except that the other person deserved it.
“So, either of you want to explain what happened at school today?” I ask, pointing my fork between the two of them. They look at each other, then back to me without a single word. “No? Because, from what I heard from Principal Wendy, you both attacked that boy.”
“Principal Wendy is a bitch,” Theo grumbles.
T coughs into his hand, attempting to hide his laughter, as I send daggers his way. “What? He’s not fucking wrong.”
“That’s not the point. Theo, you don’t call womenbitches. Ever! It’s rude.”
“What about female dogs? They’re called bitches.”
“We’re not talking about dogs, Theo. We’re talking about why you two thought it was okay to beat up another boy today.”
“Pity, I’d rather talk about dogs,” he groans.
“Theo, stop being a smartass to your mother and answer her questions. Apologize first.” T’s using hisno nonsense,don’t even bother arguing with metone.
“Sorry, Mom. We thought it was okay to beat him up because he kissed Savvy on the mouth when she didn’t want him to.”
Savvy is Matteo’s best friend from school. They’re an odd match. She’s quiet, withdrawn, shy. Whereas Matteo seems to have taken on the role of the class-bloody-clown.
“Oh, okay.” I’m at a loss as to how to approach this. On one hand, I don’t want to approve of violence. But on the other, they defended the girl, which I’m absolutely proud of.
“You guys did good. Always stand up for girls. Never walk by and ignore anyone who mistreats a girl,” T says, high-fiving them both. The two boys glow under his praise.
“Your father’s right. How is Savannah?” I ask Matteo.
“She’s fine. I brought her some candy.” He shrugs.
This is my life now, navigating my way through parenting four boys, who no doubt will continue to get themselves into trouble as they grow into men. And I wouldn’t change any of it for the world.
