“She feeds me, does my laundry, fixes me up when I’m hurt…she… loves me…”
I took my six-year-old son, Myles, to see a movie Wednesday afternoon. I planned to take my daughter too, but it was Myles’ turn to pick since she had father/daughter night and had picked her movie the night before.
Myles wanted to see Rango, but after hearing from a friend that it had several four-letter words, I checked pluggedinonline and found it had more than I was willing for Myles to hear and repeat. He already tells us what to do; I don’t need him adding where to go to the mix.
He had two more options: Gnomeo and Juliet or Mars Needs Moms. I wasn’t keen on either of the two and he chose Mars Needs Moms. My daughter opted to stay home because it looked “ridiculous and boring.”
We paid for our tickets, spent a thousand dollars on a kid size popcorn and Coke, then found our seats (Myles’ pick) at the top. I taught him well. I’d been up since about 4am, so I was pretty tired. My eyelids drooped a few times, but then I shook myself out of it because Myles kept poking me to share commentary. We’re still working on that.
I’m glad I woke up.
The movie was worth staying awake for. It had humor and a deep message–that mothers love their children sacrificially.
*Spoiler Alert
A young boy who wishes he didn’t have a mother (because she asks him to take out the trash) decides to apologize, but when he enters her room (the dad’s flight is delayed from weather) she’s being abducted by Martians. He jumps on the spaceship and tries to save her.
At the end, the son saves his mother and as they’re hurrying to the shuttle, his mother’s air helmet gets shattered. He takes his off and puts it on her.
I looked over when I heard my son gasp, not sure if it was him at first or if it was the boy who was panting for air—dying to save his mother. It was Myles. I watched him put his hands over his eyes and I thought I heard a sniff. From my son! Who takes nothing seriously. (Yeah, he’s six, but still…)
I rubbed his back and he looked at me and then back at the film.
The boy opens his eyes and he can breathe. He smiles and then his mother—without the breathing helmet smiles back. He tries to unlatch the helmet to remove it and give it back to her, but she breaks the lever off.
*Spoiler Alert ended
Tears streamed down my face because I know that love. A mother’s love. I tried to casually wipe them off my cheeks, hoping the two annoying tweens above us didn’t catch me and giggle. I’m not their mother, so I wouldn’t have a problem putting the whammy on them.
I cleared my throat and a soft, wonderful whisper invaded my heart. “That’s what I did for you. I gave my life, so you could breathe. So you could live.”
Lord, you’re not helping me with the whole crying thing here.
But it’s true and glorious and unfathomable.
We walked out of the theater, Myles bouncing along after an Austin Powers episode of urinating, and I asked him, “So what did you learn?”
“I learned to do your chores when you’re told to and not complain…you know, it might be easier for us both if you just don’t ask.”
I chuckled under my breath because that’s my typical son—he wants to be a joke teller when he grows up. I unlocked the door to our mini-van and he climbed inside. I handed him his DS and listened to Mario Kart noises in the background. I cranked up The Outsiders CD by Need to Breathe, one of my favorite bands.
Ten minutes from home, I heard Myles. I turned the volume down and asked, “What did you say?”
He wasn’t loud or obnoxious like usual. His voice was a sweet lull. “I love you, Mom.”
He got the message.
“I love you too, baby.”
Have a great weekend and if you get the chance, go see the movie with your baby/babies. If you don’t have children, call your mom. Tell her you love her.
