Today I felt better again. Better inasmuch as not like I'd been run over, and could actually sustain a thought process over more than 2 minutes. Huge improvement. I actually took Jack on a walk this morning, and that's when I had this kernel get planted in my brain. It's germination period, as it happens, was surprisingly fast. Here goes...
Dear Males In My House,
I am so lucky that each of you is here with me. Because of you, I have a happy life of which I am very proud (Mom, I rewrote that to remove a dangling preposition. You are welcome). I've been thinking about how I've been acting in my own home, my favorite place in the whole world, and I'm not very happy with that I'm recalling. So I'm making you a promise now to stop.
I've been complaining. A lot, right? It is exhausting to clean up after you when you don't care to clean up after yourself. It does make me feel like I am failing at parenting when you don't know how to do these things. I don't expect you to WANT to. I didn't want to when I was your age. I don't want to now. I just know that it has to be done. So I do it.
Lee, you take care of so many things even though you don't recognize it. You set up coffee so it's ready in the morning, a necessary part of me being able to function. You work really hard every day so that we can live here, on Pocomoke, where we LOVE, and even when things are hard you get up and go back in. You make time for yourself in the shop or on the bike (or both) because you know that your brain needs that so you can be present with us when you are here. Then when you are present, you find what the boys like, or need, and you make it happen.
Drew, you are just beginning to really learn where your wings are, and it's really exciting to see them start to stretch! I love watching you learn to show who you are with confidence to the world as you move from elementary school to middle school, and then beyond. You've really started pitching in around the house. It's noticed, and it's so deeply appreciated. I am enjoying teaching you basic things like how to do laundry (from into the machine, through folding and back into the drawers...except for sheets. No one can fold them.) and your cooking skills and interest make me believe that when you leave home, you will not be ordering in constantly or eating only boxed macaroni and "cheese". I hope.
Tucker, you sometimes seem like a knotty shoelace that does not want to untie, but once you get past that first snarl, your good humor shines through. You love a good joke, and you want to share it with everyone you see. You decided late last year to be a part of your community in such a large way, fundraising for families...kids!!!...less fortunate than you, and it makes me so proud that you see these problems and instead of laying blame at anyone, you simply pushed up your sleeves and said, "I want to help." and you did. You are an inspiration to me.
So, despite the fact that I haven't been active in the Catholic Church in many years, I am making a Lenten sacrifice, and I hope it's one that makes me better, and makes you better. Many years ago, I realized as I drove your brother back and forth to day care on my way to work that I was yelling TERRIBLE things in the car at the other drivers while he listened. For Lent that year, I gave up road rage. It was hard, and I didn't always succeed, but I'm far more controlled in the car than I used to be. I hope that my giving up complaining has a similar effect on how I speak, and maybe, a little can rub off on others around me.
I love you guys, all of you.
Mom
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Tuesday, February 06, 2018
Warts and All
I bet you were all wondering...when is she gonna write? The anniversary just passed by us, and nothing on the blog.
Well, it's been a really rough year so far. And the year is only 37 days old. I write less often now because it feels redundant and I don't think I have new things to say, and I don't want to waste a reader's time. But here's the reality: things have been really hard, and I don't want to write that it's hard because I feel that you come here to read about strength.
So, anyway, there you have it. I'm going to make an effort to be more authentic on this blog this year, which means that you get me warts and all.
So, one of my boys is really having a hard time. It's not easy being the parent of a special needs child who cannot care for him- or herself. It's also not easy being a parent of a fully capable neurotypical child who cannot or will not behave himself. It's staggeringly draining, physically and emotionally (and occasionally financially). It's hard to not lose your temper all the time when he is being difficult just to be goddamn difficult. Just so that we will see him. Why doesn't he realize that we see him all the time. ALL THE TIME. We're actually pretty good about parental technology around them. We try to draw lines, abide by our own rules. Sometimes we can't, but we usually do.
And yet...no credit is given.
On top of that, I've had several friends lose parents recently, and we've come to realize that we are entering that shifty, ugly period of our lives where there are no more weddings to attend, but an increasing number of funerals.
And on top of that, it's a slow start business-wise this year. That's really not a terrible thing other than it's terrifying.
But today marks 4 years since I stood up in front of a standing-room only church and said my public good-bye to Connor. We still speak to him as we feel it needed. Last week, the night of the "anniversary," Jack the dog had a dream that caused him to try to bark in his sleep. This almost never occurs, and never at night. This time, it was at night, before we feel asleep. I thought to myself, 'Is that Connor reaching out to us again?' And then Lee said out loud, "It's like Connor is saying hello."
Weird, right?
In the meantime, the future keeps falling upon us, taking us further away from the time when Connor was with us. Pushing us towards the time when our parents may not be with us any more. We all have time on this Earth, but sometimes, it feels like time is the greatest thief of them all.
Well, it's been a really rough year so far. And the year is only 37 days old. I write less often now because it feels redundant and I don't think I have new things to say, and I don't want to waste a reader's time. But here's the reality: things have been really hard, and I don't want to write that it's hard because I feel that you come here to read about strength.
So, anyway, there you have it. I'm going to make an effort to be more authentic on this blog this year, which means that you get me warts and all.
So, one of my boys is really having a hard time. It's not easy being the parent of a special needs child who cannot care for him- or herself. It's also not easy being a parent of a fully capable neurotypical child who cannot or will not behave himself. It's staggeringly draining, physically and emotionally (and occasionally financially). It's hard to not lose your temper all the time when he is being difficult just to be goddamn difficult. Just so that we will see him. Why doesn't he realize that we see him all the time. ALL THE TIME. We're actually pretty good about parental technology around them. We try to draw lines, abide by our own rules. Sometimes we can't, but we usually do.
And yet...no credit is given.
On top of that, I've had several friends lose parents recently, and we've come to realize that we are entering that shifty, ugly period of our lives where there are no more weddings to attend, but an increasing number of funerals.
And on top of that, it's a slow start business-wise this year. That's really not a terrible thing other than it's terrifying.
But today marks 4 years since I stood up in front of a standing-room only church and said my public good-bye to Connor. We still speak to him as we feel it needed. Last week, the night of the "anniversary," Jack the dog had a dream that caused him to try to bark in his sleep. This almost never occurs, and never at night. This time, it was at night, before we feel asleep. I thought to myself, 'Is that Connor reaching out to us again?' And then Lee said out loud, "It's like Connor is saying hello."
Weird, right?
In the meantime, the future keeps falling upon us, taking us further away from the time when Connor was with us. Pushing us towards the time when our parents may not be with us any more. We all have time on this Earth, but sometimes, it feels like time is the greatest thief of them all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)