One way or another

I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha

So, I've mentioned that I have two sons, but I see that I've nearly only written about and posted photos of Duck. That kid is just so out there! Yesterday, after a particularly intense "NO WIRE HANGERS" moment on my part, Duck came up to me and said, "That's okay, Killer. We all make mistakes." Seriously, how can you not write about that kind of stuff?

But, I have 2 sons and the other kid is just as much of a character.

Stealth, also known as Monkeyboy, Scrambler, The One to Keep Your Eye On. In Stealth's 3 years, he has managed to find all my buttons and create a few new ones. He makes me think. He challenges me. He is fiery and passionate and opinionated. He's a dare devil and couldn't give two shits about what anyone thinks (except maybe his hero, Duck.) He's an artist, a dreamer, a punk rock kid. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and couldn't hide his feelings for the world. He screams and kicks and spits and hits and throws things. And he cuddles and comforts and loves and kisses and gives. You can look into his eyes and tell that no matter what you're trying to front, he can see right through you. He's lived a thousand times over.

He's just like me. He drives me insane.

Stealth and I have been struggling pretty hard with each other over the last couple of weeks. He's probably spent more time in his room than out of it. He's just BARELY a Taurus, really really close to Aries, so he butts head with his Aries mom all the damned time. Frankly, what it boils down to is that we both just don't really know what to do with each other and neither of us will back down. Now, of course, I know that as the grownup, I should be open. I should listen. But, of course, I don't. We fight and argue. I know it's more important to be happy than to be right and if no one's going to die, well, then I should very well just make peace. But I don't - and I don't think he wants me to.

Don't get me wrong, Stealth is my baby and I love him more than Sushi (Shhhhhhhhhhh - don't tell ANYONE that I love ANYTHING more than sushi. You never want to anger the sushi gods.) The same things about him that drive me insane fuel my love for him like a Molotov cocktail. I could spend hours looking into his eyes trying to figure him out, knowing that he's known every single bit about me since before he breathed air. I know that he spends more than two thirds of his time just waiting for me to catch up. I know that he's met Bob Marley and Martin Luther King, Jr., and Jerry Garcia, and all the rest. I know he carries with him their power and love and truths. I know that Stealth's role in this world is to change it. He's going to shatter misconceptions. He's going to bring the truth to light. He's going to paint the sky.

But for now, he's gonna drive me up the wall.

Stealth is independent. He doesn't want to need anyone. He doesn't want anyone to know that he's aware that anyone else in the world exists. He is his own man.

But, he's only three years old.

When we butt heads and fight and push each other's buttons, we both pretend that we couldn't care less, that we don't need each other's touch. That we don't want to cuddle and kiss and laugh. That we could care less if the other one ran off to Vegas forever.

But it's a ruse.

Around 4 in the morning, the truth comes out. Around 4 in the morning, I feel tiny little lips on my cheek. I open my eyes and I see my puffy eyed, fuzzy headed revolutionary of tomorrow standing beside my bed. I pull back the covers and in he climbs. I wrap my arms around him, smother him with kisses, and he snuggles in close. He whispers, "Oh, I love you, Mama." And as we drift off to sleep, I can almost hear him thinking, "I gotcha again, Mom. I gotcha again."