"Just calling it like I see it." There's a dangerous twinkle in his eye that I don't catch until it's too late. He jumps up in the air and lands right in the middle of the puddle. Dirty water splashes everywhere, soaking my shoes and the bottom half of my jeans. Ian's jeans and shirt are completely drenched, but at least they're not DOA like his only pair of shoes are.
My nose scrunches up and my brow furrows, but I swallow back the angry rant that threatens to escape. It's not easy.
"Shit," I say much too harshly. I didn't budget for shoes, even if he is due for a new pair. Frustration wells in my chest and gets comfortable. I try to ignore it, but it's not working. I can't catch a break no matter what corners I cut or how hard I hustle for an extra couple of bucks. Every time I turn around the kid needs something else. This time it's shoes, but before this it was underwear, and before that, it was jeans because he kept climbing the low brick wall at the park and tearing them up. No matter how many times I try to remind him that we have to take care of our things because I can't afford to keep replacing them, he's still hard on his shit. He's an eight-year-old boy, and I know it's going to happen, but that doesn't make the money just materialize out of nowhere to pay for it all.
When I finally calm down enough to look at my boy, he's got his eyes trained on the ground and his arms straight down by his sides. If I were really mad and not just giving up on the idea of ever getting ahead, he'd already be in tears and running away. I try so hard to not be that mom who yells all the time, but I slip sometimes, and when I do, it tears us both up. Those are the days where I wonder if I should even have him. Not that I'd give him up now. The state would throw my boy away and label him because of his behavioral issues. I don't care if I have to steal everything he needs for the rest of my life. I won't let him fall into the clutches of a greedy asshole who just wants to collect a paycheck.
"Hey, shit happens, right?" I say and ruffle Ian's dark blond hair. He goes stock still and doesn't look up despite my casual tone. I need to stop the impending meltdown. I don't have the energy for it today. Skipping the whole pick-me-up speech and ignoring the fact that I'm going to pay for this later, I swoop down and pull my boy into a bear hug. When he doesn't fight me, I lift him off the ground with a deep breath and settle him into my arms. He's not such a little boy anymore, and that's never more apparent than when I carry him. It takes a long moment, but eventually he settles against me, snuggles his face into my neck, and wraps his arms around me.
"I love you, Snot."
I feel the smile against my neck before he whispers, "Love you more, Booger."
"Do not," I declare, giving him a squeeze. He squeezes me back and settles against me once again. I'd thought he would have asked me to stop with calling him Snot by now, but he hasn't. My muscles ache from the exertion of hauling around a growing boy who's more than half my size, but my heart is warm. A lot of kids wouldn't be cool with me snuggling them in public, but not my kid. He doesn't care who's watching or what's going on. My sweet boy with his gentle heart. He's too soft for this world. I know I can't protect him forever and that eventually the world will get its way and harden him, but he's already been through so much, and I'm going to do everything in my power to keep him sweet for as long as I can.
I walk us into the office of the motel we've been staying at and look around. The aged Formica counter is devoid of paperwork for the first time all week, and Robert, the day clerk, is MIA. The owner's paid more attention to the interior of the common areas than the individual rooms, but even those are outdated and worn. Still, it's a roof over our heads and there's hot water, so I'm not going to complain. The day clerk has been flying solo since we got here, and he's let me exchange maid services for a free room, but this morning he called up to the room to ask me to stop by the office. I've been tense since that call, worried that he's going to ask for more than just maid service in the exchange. It wouldn't be the first time a man used his power to manipulate me into doing something I don't want to do.