Chasing time

(Drama queen takes center stage)

This morning I was late for work.

This morning I was late for work because my 5-year-old had a crying spell.

What was supposed to be an uneventful morning with me heading off to work on time turned out to be a lecture session on how to take care of your toys. The nanny told me that my sis got mad at him the previous day because he had destroyed the Gundams that she had bought him just 2 weekends ago.

He loves robots! He already had 3 Gundams, but as a reward for making it to yellow belt, 2 weekends ago my sis took him out and bought him 2 more. She bought and assembled them. Afterwards I even took out my super glue and secured the non-movable parts, just to make sure that they won't get lost. But he has this way of playing with action figures that result in lost and broken limbs. And despite my warnings not to roughouse with his toys, that's exactly what he did. I looked inside the toy box this morning and found what could be the robot equivalent of the aftermath of a terrorist attack - broken sockets, severed joints - all beyond repair.

"No Gundams for one year!" I declared. At which he burst into tears.

Then the long lecture about nobody wanting to give him toys if he doesn't take care of them. I stole a glance at his Zoids, which have seen some injury but have thankfully survived after a session with my super glue. There is hope yet. At least if his Zoids survive, he might have more of those until the Gundam moratorium ends.

The crying didn't end for quite a while; in fact he was hyperventilating as I took him into my arms. I assured him - and he knows - that Ninang and I still love him, but he has to learn to take care of his toys before we give him even more.

Sigh.

And when I woke up this morning I thought that everything was just fine.

So why is this a piece about time? Because I don't know what goes on with him when I'm at work, or otherwise out. If the nanny didn't tell me I'd be clueless. Then my mind leaps forward and I wonder what would happen to him when he goes to big school next year. Would he tell me what happened during his day? Would I be there when he needed me? All this growing up and letting go is starting to worry me.

It's just that I'm realizing - for a long time now in fact - how our roads are diverging, be it ever so slowly. I tell my friends, we are like "one becoming two." Before I used to carry him in my womb wherever I went. Then out he popped into this world, but I was always at his side. Then came part-time work, then full-time work, then my office relocated, then he started attending preschool. And there are still more paths to tread, for him and for me.

Don't get me wrong; I realize that all these changes are necessary. It's part of our growing up - he as a child and me as a mom. And I do feel proud as I watch him walk away from me and into the classroom whenever I bring him to school.

But our bond is there, and it's strong. We share so many habits, so many mannerisms, so many experiences. We're connected in so many ways that sometimes I don't know where he begins and I end. But thankfully he's different from me - funny, playful, uninhibited - and don't forget all that testosterone.

I just love him so much it makes me sad that I can't share in some of the things that he goes through. Sometimes I just feel like I'm chasing time, trying to squeeze in everything I'd like to or have to do. Have to. Like to. Have to. Like to.

Two diverging paths. One becoming two.

Yeah, guess who's the one having a crying spell now.

P.S. This is so Robert Frost