Happiness

I am a firm believer in the philosophy that most people are about as happy as they make up their mind to be. I can’t pretend to understand how one’s mindset works. But I know that I am a happy person. For all intents and purposes. Given what life has handed me. I am happy. I have convinced myself of this repeatedly over the past year. Why be unhappy? Being happy doesn’t mean that your life doesn’t have it’s bad moments - it’s just that you’ve learned how to handle them. People can argue with me about it all they want - I know I haven’t faced many trials and tribulations - but losing my son, holding his lifeless body, seeing him in a casket - was the worst thing any mother could go through. Any person could go through. I know people believe whatever obstacle they are facing is the worst but I could think of a thousand things (a thousand really bad things) I would rather have done than bury my child. I’m not going to get on this rant, not here, not now.

Most of us (families that have lost a child) could write a book on the things people have said to them. You would be surprised at the random things that spew from people’s mouths. The things we condition ourselves to ignore. And often times, they come from those closest to us. The ones we love and trust the most can say the most insensitive things at the most inappropriate of times.

Anyway, happiness. I love my life right now in this moment. I would love it a million times more if Jonah was here - aside from that, I have no complaints. Jonah is not here. He’s not contributing to my happiness nor my unhappiness. Try not to judge, try not to walk in my shoes, try not to feel what I’m feeling. My child is gone, I’m heartbroken. My happiness does not mean that I miss Jonah any less than I did 15 ½ months ago when he left us….again, do not mistake my happiness for anything less than what it is. Again, I’m on that rant…..I apologize.

Back to convincing myself that happiness does exist. It does. I’m happy. I do not want to be anything but happy. Life is too short for unhappiness. I also do not believe that I have to rely on someone else to make me happy. It’s not anyone’s responsibility but my own.

Last night, Elijah walked into the kitchen while I was cooking his dinner.

“I’m unhappy, momma.” He leaned against the countertop, knowing that he was saying the words I never want to hear.

“You look happy.” He did. He looked like the normal, happy Elijah. I bit my lip, hoping he wasn’t going to tell me about missing Jonah. We have those moments where Elijah reflects any bad moment in his life to “missing Jonah.” He can be scared, sad, mad or disappointed - when he wants my full attention and to be cuddled, he misses his brother. I do not ignore these moments, never have.

“I’m just not happy.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t really matter.

“Well, that’s your choice, Elijah.”

His eyes widened at me. “No, it’s your choice.” He pointed his finger at me and took a tone that made me dread the teenage years. I didn’t know his voice could do that.

“Why is it my choice? You’re the one that’s unhappy.”

“You chose not take to me to the Razorback football game.” He glared at me. “I do all these great things - get straight A’s, increase my reading level a bunch, work hard, and you choose not to make me happy.”

“Elijah,” I look at him. “You have to do all these great things regardless. You have to work hard and we are proud of you. But if I never take you to another football game, you still have to do good in school and you have to complete all your work and make good grades to keep going forward in school.”

“I still blame you for making me unhappy.” End of discussion. No lessons learned here. No cute remarks from the mouth of a child. Moments later, he was in his bedroom, playing and laughing. When I walked in, he looked at me with a bright smile.

“I thought you weren’t happy.”

“Oh, I got over that.” He shook his head. There you go.

Too bad, it’s not that easy for most adults.

A 2nd Grade Education

We always knew that, at some point in time, we would consider Christian school or home schooling for Elijah. I’ve always admired all the mothers that home school and I think it’s a fantastic idea but I have no patience for it. As clingy as Elijah is to me, he needs a break. We always imagined the curriculum at a public school would force us to put Elijah in a good school - sheltered, in a bubble, hoping he doesn’t learn more there than in public school. It worried us and we had discussed it at length, the different scenarios that would make us take that plunge. We had no idea it would come in 2^nd grade at the hands of another 2^nd grader.

Elijah came bouncing toward me when I just walked in from work. Anxious to tell me the facts of the day, “I did not pull a color today. I did pass 8-minute math. I did pass my practice spelling test.” Grinning from ear to ear. “Aaaaannnnddd, guess what Michael* told me.”

“What did Michael tell you?” I asked, assuming Michael was going to be his new best friend.

“Michael said his mom and dad have sex.”

My mouth went dry. The oxygen left my lungs. My vision went blurry. I searched the room for Jason. I pretended Elijah didn’t just say that.

“What was it that Michael told you?” I asked, almost in a whisper. Jason appeared in the dining room, smiling, not knowing what he had just walked into.

“Michael said his mom and dad have sex.” Elijah said, slower this time.

Jason’s eyes widened as he searched my face for an answer. “Christian school already.” He choked.

I ignored Elijah’s remark again. I patted Elijah’s head and walked toward Jason. Maybe this will just go away.

“He said they hit it hard.” I stopped dead in my tracks.

I shook my head. “They hit HIM hard. Oh, that’s so sad. Surely, Michael isn’t that bad of a kid.” I morphed the remark into something else, still hoping this would go away.

“No. They hit the SEX hard.” Great, now Elijah’s emphasizing the word SEX. I turned to look at Elijah as Jason decides to take over.

“Son, do you know what sex is?” He asked him.

“No, what is it?” Elijah asked, innocently.

“That’s not important.” Jason replied, as we both breathed a sigh of relief that Michael didn’t go into a great narrative about sex to our 7-year old.

“Isn’t that how babies are made?” Elijah asked. Jason laughed.

“Where did we tell you that babies come from?” Jason asked him. Elijah did see me pregnant and did have a few questions.

“God puts them in momma’s bellies.”

“Right. That’s all you need to know for now.” Jason replied.

I know we have our flaws as parents but we do try to keep things “age appropriate” in our home. Many thoughts were running through my mind: how did this kid find out this information, what is his home life like, did he see something or is this how his parents talk to him, and exactly where is the closest Christian school. Parenting is hard enough without have to decipher and manipulate what they hear from other kids. I cringe at the future and try to remind myself that I am shoving our conservative values and respectable morals down Elijah’s throat and that he is digesting it all well…..for now.

　

　

　　

　

　

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty kid that obviously has a different environment at home than Elijah.