In addition to writing something nice about Henry, my sponsor Rob requested nice things in written form about Chooch, too. And since he’s basically 99% exactly like me, that shouldn’t be too hard.
It’s never a dull moment with Chooch. Sometimes I pray for some dull moments, though. He’s always moving and talking and I’m furiously flipping through the parental text book because if I had known that, I’d never had had a kid! I thought they were like rag dolls, made to be propped up against a pillow in front of the TV.
Seriously though. I love him. Even during those moments when I have to leave him here with Henry while I go off and sit in a dark parking lot so I don’t have to be aurally assaulted by his sonic weapon of a scream, I still love him. Even when his tantrums and outbursts and mood swings leave me in tears, wondering what I did wrong, I still love him.
There are moments when he is literally the only human being in the world who can make me crack a smile when I’m swinging low. And he has my back. When Christina fucked me over, Chooch would be the first person to tell you, “Christina hurt Mommy’s heart. I’m going to put her in a hole and set her on fire.”
And there are times when he can be heart-breakingly sweet, literally making me smile and making my heart ache in tandem. Like when I caught him quietly singing Paramore’s “The Only Exception” two weekends ago. It was so sad, how he was murmuring it to himself over and over while quietly playing with his toys on the floor.
He can hang with the adults better than some other adults I know. He’s witty and sarcastic and has a warped imagination like me. He loves scary movies and holding my hand when I lie and say I’m so scared. He acts like it’s putting him out to hold my hand, but I know he likes it deep down.
What I love best about Chooch is that he’s mine. And sort of Henry’s, depending on my mood. Sometimes he’s all of Henry’s, depending on HIS mood.