Hate

I admit, I have hang-ups about this word. I rarely use it. It carries this heavy socio-political-historical context for me that I just can't shake. So I've stricken it from my language and the wee man had thusly followed suit... so far. Then about two weeks ago he assimilated, heard it, tried it, liked it. I do love that using this word provides him with a powerful exclamation point. I get that. And I realize he lacks the contextual bullshit that bogs me down when I hear "hate." To him, its just, well, an intense feeling of "no!" towards something.... But I'm still struggling to see the beauty in this new vocab word, to hear his truth when he says it rather than my fear.

Because its hard to see my little cherub turn into a kid. Simple foot stamped "no's," even screamed loudly, coming from a very short creature with big blue eyes and sweet little curls tend to make me smile. Even if the "no!" is directed towards me. Wee kids have the cute factor going for them. Evolutionary brilliance, really. But he's gotten taller. And louder. And stronger. And this strength is so important to him. He's also started having expectations. Often quite complex, far reaching, expectations. Which is, of course, the beginning of the end of ease, since matching the next minute to our imagination can only lead to frequent disappointments....

Which leads to anger. Which, apparently, leads to the word hate. I've been racking my brain, trying to remember if the emotions actually amped up at the same time "hate" came on the scene, or if they were already gloriously vivid and only lacking in specific verbal definition.... But I'm not sure. I only know I much preferred "I don't like that barking right now!!!!" to "I hate dogs!"

And I think that's it in a nutshell. The specificity of it seems to have gone sloppy. The pure violence of the word (he really spats it out!) seems to upstage the nuances of his anger. Bigotry and history aside, his "hate" explosions don't tell me enough to help him in any specific way. But they do tell me, in no uncertain terms, he's not happy :) Which is, I suppose, a very good thing. Especially since he seems to be entering a stage where he has a harder time admitting his emotions. Sometimes even signing instead of saying something when he's rather riled. Which is taking some catching up on my part, since I so prefer knowing exactly what he's thinking...

Right up until yesterday, that is ;) When his newfound word erupted at me :( After consuming an entire package of Tootsie Rolls in 24 hours he was in full on funky form. I know a lot of artificial stuff effects his little body, but we haven't tried something like this in a while so.... Well, now we know. A good friend even noticed the difference today, saying P seemed drunk or high :) And that's what I've had to tell myself over and over again for the last two days -as he bounced off of the walls, screaming, hitting and obsessing about strange things - he is warring with his body. My child has not become possessed, my child has not had a sudden behavioral bout of insanity, my child will return....

And then we were out on the stoop. P was pissed he couldn't play at his Uncle's house and was buying time outdoors, hoping the winds would change in his favor. He was obsessing, a common occurrence for him when a food allergy is active. I navigated it as cautiously as I could, supporting, validating, but unable to change the world. Eventually, as an hour passed and the rain still came onto my slippered feet (yah, we weren't planning on hanging on the stoop) and the little man twirled around the banister, I announced my need to pee. He stalled. He stonewalled. He adamantly refused. This is beyond out of character these days. He's a gracious deal maker when its just the two of us. Admittedly more selfish and hard to reach when surrounded by friends or family, he typically finds win-win solutions when its just the Mama and the little man.

At any rate, my continued attempt to navigate the situation in a typical fashion proved ridiculous, as the wee one was a-typical for the day :) Our stand-off ended in me gently carrying a mortified and resistant little man up three flights of stairs as his heart broke, realizing he wasn't actually strong enough to overpower me. I hated it. Yup, the word fits there ;)

And thus, at the entrance to our flat (after relieving myself amidst the fury of little fists) a very angry and hurt child turned his baby blues to me and said "I hate you right now mama." D'oh. Lemme tell you, that one hurts. I instantly remembered him picking the pretzel over me. The adult in me understood that this was a healthy way for him to deal with his stolen autonomy, his disappointment at the way the afternoon played out. I silently thanked the Universe that my child trusts me enough to be able to express himself freely, to not hide his "hatred" or anger out of fear of my response, fear of my own anger or childish emotions. That he can expel it and get past it. But jeez that still smarted. And so my tear, the tell tale one I can't ever stop, rolled down my cheek and the child moved away from the wall he was huddled against, towards my lap. "Mama, what's this? Why is your face like that? Why do you have a tear?"

Ha, hates me my ass :) I told him he felt so sad that I felt some of the sadness. And the bridge was built. I asked him, again, as I had down on the stoop, what was going on, where his anger was coming from, could I help? And then he could tell me what he couldn't before, that he was mad he couldn't go to Seth's, that he loved Seth and wanted to see him more. That we always have to leave Seth. And his tears came, only briefly, before he could suck them back up with a frown, start to smack me again, remember that he didn't want to hurt me, cry for a brief wail and then.... rest in my arms. Poor, poor four year olds. The world is so big and mysterious and they have such little power over it (or their hyped up wee bodies!). So, I'll give him his new word, the power it gives him to say it, even if I hate hearing it ;)