Mockingbird

The latest thing that my children do to torture me, is to ask me to do nice things for their father.  Specifically, send him ecards.  John goes through fazes of sending the boys ecards.. I guess to make up for his absenteeism, and lack of real cards or gifts.  The ecards are free, after all, and only take a minute on the iphone to shoot out.  Well now the boys have figured out that they can go both ways.  So now they ask me several times a day if I can send one to him.  <<<SIGH>>>  Of course, I oblige them.  Not every time, but when they really mean it.
 I hate it.  Hate every second of it.  Every key stroke and swirl of the mouse.  Typing out, verbatim whatever my 4 year old can conjure up.  Usually something to the effect of: "Dear Daddy,  I love you SOOO much.  and my heart and my arms love you and panda and i hope we can come to your house and you can come here, and we can kick the ball up in the air, and i will always love you with my heart and my hugs. i love you. loooove, J!"  or some variation there of.  It feels like someone has got their hands wrapped tightly around my lungs and keeps squeezing tighter and tighter until I can finally click "send" and X out of the screen.   

Day in and day out, the 2 year old talks about his dad.  "My own daddy is strong."  "My own daddy gave me this."   "My own daddy's gonna get me a punching balloon!"    I have no idea where the "My own" part came in, but he uses it almost every time he refers to him.  And 98% of the time, whatever it is he's giving his own daddy credit for, is not correct.  But I don't argue with him.  "Yup, that's from daddy!  Because he loves you so much!"  or  "Yes, I bet daddy will get you a punching balloon, he loves you!"  or "Yes, you are lucky to have such a strong daddy."   Maddening.

Of all these things that punch my gut each day, it's the bedtime songs that sting the most.  I read 2 stories, sometimes 3.  Then a lullaby.  They usually ask for the "Mommy lullaby"-- which is my own bastardized version of "Go to sleep."  (you know the one, "go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep little baby....")   I love singing this to them.  It was created when J was just born, I would walk the floors for hours, cradling that screaming colicky little baby singing it over and over trying to soothe him and retain some sanity.   I don't associate the song with that scene anymore, as it stuck throughout both boys babyhoods, and they both are still very comforted and soothed by it now.

Unfortunately, I also sang the "Daddy song" during happier times when J was tiny, and he still remembers.  It's the Mockingbird song. I hate singing this song for more than just the obvious.  Of course I don't want to be singing about that asshole, EVER.  But there's that ONE line of that song that pisses me off every time and takes every fiber of my being to sing without losing my cool.  I think a lot of you out there know what I'm getting at:

"...and if that mockingbird don't sing, daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring..."

Oh, it burns right through me every time.  It never gets easier.  It hasn't just become a part of the song to me yet.  It fires me up every single time.

--And if that diamond ring don't shine, dad's gonna sell it in good time