Page 78 of The Champion
I picked him up and sat down in the wooden rocking chairnext to his crib. Anyone who says they let them cry it out in bed doesn’t havea heart.
Jameson and I tried this one weekend in Richmond. I’m notsure who cried more, Axel or me and Jameson. After about two hours of this,Bobby, whose motor coach was parked next to us, asked us to either pick thescreaming kid up, or to stop crying. He was more disturbed by our crying thanby Axel’s.
I couldn’t blame him on that one.
“Mama’s here for you baby,” I whispered against his rustylocks that stuck out. “Mama’s here...”
Axel’s hair cracked me up. It was exactly like Jameson’s.Same color texture and everything. I tucked a few crazy strands away from hiseyes and kissed the top of his head as I settled in the rocking chair with him.He wormed his way closer to the foodbags for comfort and rubbed his fleeceblanket against his nose.
Though parenthood wasn’t exactly everything I thought itwould between with the temper tantrums, the not wanting to wear clothes,screaming in the middle of the night and being kicked in the tits any time Ichanged his diaper, I’d say we were making it through and hey, he was stillalive.
That right there was a good sign that we at least hadsomethingunder control. Sure there were the times when I’d forget he couldn’t feedhimself but he was quick to remind me of that task. Or the times when Iwondered how something so tiny could scream so loud but we were making itthrough this.
Within ten minutes, Axel was fast asleep in my arms withhis head resting on my shoulder, breathing slow steady breaths against my neck.
It was times like this that I wanted to stop time.
I wanted to stay in this moment with him, keep him thisage and cherish every moment with him, before there were no more moments likethis and he was telling me he hates me.
I’m not stupid. I knew once he became a teenager, he’dhate me and I was already mentally preparing myself and contemplating how I’ddeal with it.
I wondered if everyone felt like this, as if your life ispassing you by and you’re only left the moments you can’t describe?
There are moments in my life that I want to remember asthough I was living in them. I wanted to record my life, if that werepossible. Like the “ass-sucking-in-process” I discovered on ourhoneymoon. I thought this would useful.
I’ve always felt like there were days when I wanted to goback to a certain moment and remember the exact emotion I was feeling. I want togo back to sitting with my mother on Sunday mornings when we gave ourselvespedicures and remember the way her infectious laughter sounded or what hersmile looked like. I wanted to go back to the days at the track on Saturdaymornings where my dad and I would prep and water the track together.
I wanted to go back to the exact moment I fell in lovewith Jameson during our summer together. I remember the feeling, bothcomforting and harrowing, that washed over me knowing that I loved him. Jamesonwas sitting inside his car after a race in Knoxville. His helmet was off but hehadn’t gotten out of the car yet.
In that particular moment, with sweat and dirt smearedover his face, the distinct smells of burnt rubber and methanol floating aroundus, I knew that I loved him. I didn’t know why, but looking at that smirk ofhis that night having just won the Triple Crown Nationals at eighteen and howhis green eyes glowed in the dark summer night, I just knew. I remember feelinganxious and excited all at the same time and wanting time to stand still so Icould stay in that moment.
I wanted to go back to the moment I felt Axel kick forthe first time, standing in the flag stand watching his daddy race. I wanted togo back to the moment I heard his first scream and the look on Jameson’s facewhen he held him.
These are all moments that you take for granted in lifewhen they’re happening but they mean the most to you. And you don’t realizewhen they’re happening that later you’ll wish like hell you could get that momentback. The comforting thing about it was that even a smell can bring you back tothat one special moment.
Every time I smell nail polish...I remember my mom. Every time I smell rain...I think of being with Charlie at the track.Every time I smell racing fuel...I thinkof Jameson and the moment I fell in love with him.
Axel was starting to snore by now so I gently carried himback over to his crib and laid him down. He curled around his piggy Jameson hadgotten for him, sighing contently.
There were also times when your memories bring you backto horrible moments in your life that you want to forget, but can’t. Just thesame, even a smell can bring the moment crashing back to you as though you’reliving in that painful experience.
I still remember the day my mother died. Valentine’s Daywill also be a day I associate with the death of my mother. I’ll alwaysassociate the Daytona 500 with the day my father died and I’ll always associatea dark stairwell with Darrin.
I hadn’t forgotten about what Darrin did to us but Imoved on and focused on the positive side of it. Darrin showed Jameson and Ihow unbreakable our bond with each other really was. He showed me what abeautiful love story the two of us had. Sure, it was different, but that’s whatmade it so goddamn perfect in my mind. We were writing it to our perfection.
It wasn’t something that everyone else had. It was us.Crazy but exciting, irrational but stable and I felt pretty fucking lucky tohave found the other half of my heart’s missing piece. So instead of focusingon the dark haunting moments, I focused on the ones that took my breath away.The ones that made me feel like this life I was living, was epic.
I focused on the magic. I focused on the magic between aman and a woman, the sparks, the fluttering hearts, the fairytale and the MamaWizard, her Dirty Heathen and their flailing spaz.
The next morning I got up early intending on making mychampion and our adorable spaz pancakes. I tried, I really did. Jameson didn’t letme get more than an inch out of bed before his arms of steal were wrappedaround me, pulling me toward him. After being apart for so long I didn’t mind.Pancakes could wait.
In the middle of our morning dyno-testing, Axel had otherplans. By ten he was screaming his adorable chubby little face off and cryingprofusely that we hadn’t come and rescued him from his crib yet. I usuallywould have freed him by now and we’d be eating breakfast, only now I wasenjoying dirty heathen for breakfast.
Eventually I managed to get Jameson to focus and we madeour way into his room. Not prepared was an understatement. He was not in hiscrib but was instead standing next to his dresser, smiling, while removing allthe clothing from each drawer.
Perfect. I just put those away.
“Does he always do this?” Jameson asked leaning againstthe doorframe, scratching his mess of hair.
