...laying claim...

Just the other day I shared some recent photos of Mister Man with his paternal grandmother.

Yes, I left that door open.

No, it doesn't get used much.

Anyhow, we were corresponding via text message and she wrote that she missed the frequent photo updates I used to send but haven't kept up with.  

There are reasons for that.  

No, I'm not sharing them.

At least, not today.

I spent the next half hour or so inundating her inbox with my recent favourites. 

Bearing in mind how many I take, she should consider herself quite lucky that the photo-implosion only lasted half an hour!

Let's be real.  I'm that mom.  The one who practically glows neon with pride.  The one who documents everything. The one who has boxes and totes and bins full of saved "treasures".  

The one who photographs everything.

Not a revelation if you follow me on Instagram.

So there we were, amicably neutral in our exchange of photos and comments when it happened.

The words.

There in black and white.  

Or rather, white on black. Text message screen, after all.

"He looks just like you!"

"He used to look so much like C. but he's really grown to favour you!"

~~~~~

I remember vividly being at the farmer's market soon after I became a single parent.  This well-intentioned (no, really!) older gal leaned over my son's stroller and promptly exclaimed. "Well, isn't he handsome?  So cute!  He must look just like his dad!"  I froze.  Completely froze. 

In year's since the retelling has included my inner voice.  The one that wishes it had spoken and said "Seriously?  So what?  I'm not cute? And my kid doesn't look like me?  Seriously?"

Listen, when you have a boy there are certain things you just have to come to terms with.  He's going to choose the worst possible moments to inappropriately touch himself.  You're going to trade in your skirts and heels for jeans and sneakers at some point.  And every time, without fail, that you meet someone at the park-playground-grocery store, they will remark on how he must get his looks from his dad.  

The one they've never met. Or seen. The one who might not even exist.

And you will have to suck it up and smile and move on...

Because, they're right.  He does. After all, his dad is male and he is male...so...yeah...  

But as any single parent can tell you, what we really want someone to say is that they see the resemblance of our children to us.  They see the time and effort and hard work that the parent who is present put in. 

It's been years of slow and steady progress in developing an ongoing and healthy-feeling relationship with my  ex mother-in-law.  There have been countless times where I have had to grin and bear it.  I'm willing to admit that probably goes both ways.  But the truth of the matter is that her son's role in my son's conception never made him a parent.  My son only has one of those and it's me.  

I'm the one who breastfed and diapered.  I'm the one who rushed to the doctors or the schools. I'm the one who learned all the therapy terms and tricks.  I'm the one who homeschooled and homeworked.  The one who consoled and encouraged.  The one who cheered on and defended.  The one who did the work.

All of it.

He didn't play soccer because his dad used to. 

He did it because I made it happen.  

He didn't develop a love of reading because his dad enjoys reading.

He did it because he grew up watching me love reading, and listening as I made books come alive for him.

He didn't excel in school because his dad was good at math.

He did it because I homeschooled and homeworked and pushed and pulled and prodded.  He did it because I was present to assist and encourage.

Each of those statements above have been stolen from me at times.  Phone calls that hurt me because they cancelled me out of the equation and tied his successes to this other person who's never contributed.  

But then there was this. This day.  This text message. This allowance.  

I lay claim to it all. Loudly. Proudly.  He is who he is because I am present.  

I may have been the only one to struggle through the challenges.  I may have had sleepless nights and a broken heart.  I may have felt defeated and failed. I may have sacrificed everything. But in the end, I win.  

I win.

Because I am the only who can honestly claim the victories.  

I get to be a part of his success story, because I'm the one who laid the paving stones...

He looks like me.  He loves like me. 

He is altogether uniquely himself.

And he is altogether mine.

I lay claim.

Two peas in a crazy pod!