“Are you two back together with no yelling?” Z, my 6-year old, super-skinny nephew asked as he popped a piece of waffle in his mouth. He was oh-so-casual in his Spiderman skivvies and nothing else, but I think his little heart really needed to know. Yelling is a big part of his life, but our, Zak’s and mine, relationship agreement (Yes, Z and I have a relationship agreement worked out. Mainly this: you kid, me adult. You behave, no trouble. You misbehave, trouble. But big caveat: I don’t yell at him ever, and he doesn’t yell at me. Sometimes I have to remind him. I’ll say, “Zak remember our agreement? I don’t yell at you and…” then I wait the 3-5 minutes until he mutters, “I don’t yell at you.” Sometimes I tease him just a little, tell him I can’t hear him until the both of us are laughing.)
This particular morning Z was referring to an enormous argument between my mother and me, of which I was not proud, but what can I say? We’re Irish and Southern; it would be odd if we didn’t argue. But I honestly had thought the boys were asleep. Thinking back on it now, there is no way those boys could’ve slept though the cacophony we had created that particular evening.
When Z asked his question, he was so cool, so casual; well, as casual as one can be in wearing Spiderman briefs and nothing else. So I determined to carry the same level of chill, but mind you I was fully dressed; so, there was absolutely no way I was getting that same laid back aura. After a moment I threw in the towel on that endeavor, glanced at my mother, and I answered, “Yes, we’re together without fighting.” The long-skinny little guy nodded once as for affirmation then hopped down from his chair and ran to his video games, which are, in my opinion, the bane of our society’s existence.
My mother and I took our coffees to the verandah. It was a beautiful morning, Southern Arizona not yet getting blown into the inferno that Phoenix had become. Also as all well-bred Southern ladies, we did not bring up the argument from the evening a week before. I’m not sure we spoke at all; I really don’t remember. What I do remember was that my nephew, whom I adore and who had previously been able to rely on the fact that I always came back, had to wonder for a week if I was ever coming back, and that was soooo soooo not okay.
Whether he’s being a little monster and on a tear with his older brother, Auz, Z can rely on the fact that he is well loved. Auz can also rely on the fact that he is well loved. There are probably just as many parenting styles as there are parents out there, and, though we keep praying for them, babies don’t come with instruction manuals. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, we do the best we can with what we have, with what we know at the time, and pray, pray, pray. Because as much as you love those little guys, God loves them more. It’s that surety that keeps me going.
The Unexpected Life 