It literally takes nothing for my emotions to go from a one year old getting their first birthday cake, to Carrie at the senior prom.

Seriously.

Sometimes I have to stop and really try to remember how I went from feeling okay, and even borderline happy in one moment. To being curled up in the fetal position in the very next, mascara staining my cheeks. But it doesn’t even matter what the trigger was. It always come back to the same thing. His stupid white box.

I’m almost positive that if I had any new people that were coming into my life who weren’t already familiar with my son’s story, that they’d think I was bat shit crazy. Truly, BAT SHIT.

Even yesterday, when I was talking to my mortgage loan office, getting everything in line for an offer I made on this house I fell in love with (some asshole outbid me, so it’s not gonna be my house. This made me a little more emotionally heightened yesterday.) But while I was talking to him he was running over my loan application and making sure everything was correct.

Single, not married. Yep. Living in Florida. Yep. Not paying child support or getting child suppor. Yep, that’s correct. No kids. NO. Hell NO!

And I had to stop myself. This poor guy. He had no idea what was coming.

Yes, I have a child. I have a son. Not had a son. Have a son. He is still my son. He will always be my son. MY SON. And neither you nor your stupid little loan application are gonna take that away from me!

Obviously he wasn’t trying to do anything like that. He just assumed since I was not paying or receiving child support, and being only 26 and unmarried, that naturally I probably wouldn’t have any kids. But I do, I do! And he’s my whole entire world.

He just no longer lives in the same one that I do, for the time being.

I’ve realized that sometimes it’s easier to not acknowledge my Kam when dealing with strangers for business purposes. After all, do I want to get into the deepest parts of my soul when talking to an absolute stranger about how much the houses in the neighborhood are typically selling for? But then again, how can I not acknowledge my child and not feel guilty? It’s such a double edged sword. It’s gotten to the point where I simply don’t bring it up, or even get close to questions that might lead to someone asking me if I have any children.

It just seems easier that way.

However, there is always someone that manages to ask that damned question. Typically just to create some meaningless small talk. So, whenever I am asked, I always tell them that yes, I am in fact a momma to a perfect little boy. And I leave it at that. Most people don’t actually want details about your kids anyway. Especially if you’re a perfect stranger to them. This does makes it easier for me.

I will however go into detail about him if the person continues to ask questions. I feel like they walked into to, and I let their body language determine how much I tell them. It’s really easy to read people and tell when they’re done. That’s the nice thing. People are truly so simple. So I let them know what they can handle, and give them the obligatory smile. Typically words of condolences are said, none of which mean much of anything anymore.

But it is nice to see that people try. Even though they typically fail. It’s not their fault. There really isn’t anything that can be said to help. But the sentiment is nice. I guess it’s just a small piece of humanity I’m glad to see is still around.