perspective

i was approaching that dangerous precipice with thing one, where the joking was over and i really was about to put him outside with a sign around his neck saying "free to any home". what i mean is this: i spanked him angry. i was steamed and fed up and i gave him his usual three swats but i felt that panic creeping in "oh man, i don't even know how hard i got him" and the tiny part of me that any honest parent confesses to said "i don't care, i've had it." we were supposed to be having some quiet time because i was reaching the end of my rope, and so was he. the weather was bad, we were just getting our footing back from a week of recovery from tonsillectomy, he was hyper, and i was tired. he wouldn't quit squirming and poking me and screwing around and in my head i could hear my husband accusing "he always trashes the bed, he twists the sheets all up and pulls the blankets crooked." i lost it, i sat up, jerked down his pants and let him have it. he wailed and cried and looked terrified of me and i thought "when did i lose my perspective?" i conceived him at a terrible time in my life. if i wasn't alcoholic, i was close and i was in a bad relationship. it was because of him that i got my life together. i used to lay in bed at night alone with him and cry while i was singing to him, i would clutch him close and promise to be better for him. i screwed up ALOT along the way but now he has a good home, i get to stay home with him, and we have a wonderful man in our lives to be a papa. suddenly *poof* i take him for granted, i can't wait for my mom to take him off my hands once a week for the night so i can have a break, i send him to his room just to get some space. once i calmed down i asked him if he wanted to cuddle me and, by the miracle of childhood, he did. i looked down at him and remembered all those lonely nights and said "thank you".