A Last Good Bye

Ch 1
Karen

“Mom, mom!”

I kept my eyes shut, vaguely wondering what time it was. I decided I was happier not knowing, and kept very still in the hopes of the voice going away.

“Mom!”

I almost groaned. Oh, that voice cut through all my sleepiness and demanded that I dealt with whatever problem had arisen.

“Get up mom. I want breakfast!”

I blinked and couldn’t make out anything in the haze of sleep. I blinked again and only slightly improved my vision. Had I been more awake and in the mood, I would have seen a hilarious picture of a six year old boy with tousled hair, with his little hands on his hips, pouting at me. I didn’t laugh, but groaned instead. I never was a morning person and I had a son who was nearly hyper with energy at six thirty in the morning. I could only wonder if I was ever this way and how did my parents deal with it. I decided the best way to get the demanding young voice of my son was to get up, feed him, get him ready for school, and only then go back to bed.

No one ever mentioned the “joys” of raising a kid. The joy of spending night after night for two years, feeding, calming, changing dirty diapers, worrying over stubborn fevers, and all the other surprises babies bring. Perhaps Luke Skywalker and Mirmo didn’t know themselves when they argued their seemingly valued points all those years ago. Either way, what really mattered was the baby and I got little sleep quite a few nights in his early years of life.

I sleepily walked over to the small kitchen and covered my yawning mouth with one hand, while the other hand was being held by Tem. He looked up at me, pulling my hand, with big hungry, adorable eyes that made me want to cry out. I had learned a few years ago to not let him see too much of this emotion, or he would use it to his advantage. One should never underestimate what children will do to get sweets, or more time before bedtime. I shut my mouth and reached on a high shelf for the cereal, a bowl, and a spoon. I told my son to sit down, and poured him a bowl of non-sweetened cereal. He only got the insanely hyper-inducing stuff when spending the night with Mirmo. I started a pot of caf and thought about eating a piece of fruit, still half awake.

Now mind you, I do dearly love my child. I might curse, whine, and complain like any parent does, but I do that a lot on all matters. But it is much like taking home a cute purring kitten to find out the so called sweet thing poops, pees, hurls, clear and cite and not see the hair ball as cute or innocent. It is not a nice surprise and although I knew babies do these messy activities, it’s another thing to deal with them on the three hours of sleep at one in the morning.

I watched Tem eat most of his breakfast with his usual messiness. A fair amount of the cereal had fallen out of the bowl and he looked up at me with a ring of blue milk around his mouth. I handed him a napkin without even thinking about it, reminding him he wanted to be nice and clean for his classmates. He giggled, being way more awake for the both of us, and then jumped off the chair and ran through the short, stone hall to his room. My son came back out with his little stuffed animal, reminding me today was show and tell day of the six day week we worked on. I smiled at him and helped him put on his shoes.

I somehow survived, largely due to the help of Mirmo, the first few years of Tem’s life. He was a normal baby, mostly sweet, but he had his screaming and crying moments. We entered the walking and talking stage and every object and word had to be watched. It was Mirmo who glowed in swelling pride when Tem walked five steps and didn’t fall. I sat down and groaned at the many objects my son could hurt himself with as he grabbed everything higher up. We had baby proofed the apartment as much as possible, but then we were faced with toddler-proofing all rooms. It wasn’t too hard as we learned to put things into cabinets and not out in the open and made sure there were safe things on the floor and two feet up for him to entertain himself with. I also got more exercise as he became more active with his legs. I learned how to do extremely quick dashes to save a falling plate or to push him out of harms way.

Tem and I had just gone out of the house when he gasped and told me he had forgotten his red datapad. I sighed and keyed the door open. He rushed back in and came out a minute later. One of us was always forgetting something and it was rare we could get a few feet out of the door before we would remember. I gave him a searching, patient look and asked him if he was sure he had everything because I wasn’t going to make another trip back for any reason. He cheerfully and quickly said yes. I had to wonder. We made it a few more steps before I remembered I wasn’t carrying my still hot coffee, but decided to keep my promise and just live without the lovely brown liquid. I would soon be back into bed anyhow.

Then came the years where he could walk and talk, be cute and be highly annoying where punishment had to be given. He was old enough to understand there were rules and limits, but he wanted to test them. So he did. He tested everything, including my nerves. He had learned the word “no” and what power it could bring him, so he started using it all the time, even when he meant yes. It was a hard six months to stand there, staring down at a four year old who was lying on the floor, kicking and screaming the same word over and over because I wanted to clean his dirty face before giving him a piece of candy. To make things worse, Mirmo would come into the scene and pick up the screeching child, swing him around and around until uncontrollable giggles came out and quickly wipe off the dirt. The little devil would be smiling the whole time, like it was all fun and games. It made me wonder if I was a bad mother.

We had made it to the door of the classroom where my son would spend several hours away from me, learning about the Force, lightsaber training, and other Jedi-related skills. I looked at the clock and saw we had just made in time. I was starting to get lectures from the teacher about being late and no excuse would fly by her. I knelt down and hugged my son tightly. He squirmed in my embrace, but I sensed love and happiness from my touch. He complained as any boy would that he was being embarrassed, but I ignored him. So many of the other children didn’t have mothers to hug them and some of them cried at night for such things. My son could get over it.

I let him go and watched him join his other high pitched classmates call him out and throw a ball of paper at him. He ducked just in time, a sign that his Force training was going well. He called back and the teacher gave him a look. He just laughed and ran to join his friends before class started. I sighed and knew it was time to leave him. I still had two hours before my class started. I hurried back to the small apartment and slipped into my bed. I closed my eyes; enjoying the fact it was still warm.