It has been a strange and weepy kind of day. I cried twice before noon. I felt fat, tired and defeated by 9:00 am.
But mostly tired.
The two-year-old is kicking my ass. He says yes and then no and then yes in forceful, angry terms. He wants to be held all the time.
Uppy! Uppy! he cries.
Unlike a babe in arms, it is next to impossible and at a minimum uncomfortable to actually accomplish anything while holding a fussy toddler.
If he doesn’t want to be held, then he prefers to be completely independent.
Max do it! Move back, Mommy! MAX DO IT! (weird how one child calls me Mama and the other one calls me Mommy).
The first time I cried was while reading a blog post that many of you also read on the one-year anniversary of the death of Jack.
Jack, age 12, had just started seventh grade when he was swept away while playing in the rain by a local creek. You can read about it here. He had eyes that sparkled with happiness.
God. Tears again as I write this, remembering Jack. I never met him, and now I’ll never forget him.
I glanced at my then-quiet and beautifully-playing-with-cars children and felt awful for being so unsympathetic to the two-year-old attitude.
A few hours later a close friend sent an invite to a select group of amazing women to celebrate her 40th birthday – in her words - to embrace it rather than mourn it by spending a long weekend in Palm Springs to talk, hike, eat, drink, sleep, laugh and play. I cannot wait. I started crying as I read her sweet message about getting older and friendship and the opportunity to take this time - this time to be together and to play.
I don’t play enough. I read a lot, sleep less than I should, and think more than I should.
I haven’t worked outside the home for one month now. It’s felt like a vacation. My parents were here for a couple weeks, and we partied, made outstanding dinners and were fully present with the boys. We went to Hood River where my father and I swam across the Columbia River. We picked tomatoes andcucumbers and peaches. And we genuinely enjoyed one another.
But I’m not on vacation. I miss the routine of getting up and ready for work. My eldest started kindergarten on Friday and it was an unbelievably easy and heartfilled day of learning for all of us. My mom left early this morning which always makes me sad. So much feeling is welling up within me. I can’t stand it.
Last night I told Miles that I wished he could be a baby again for just a few minutes. He looked at me kindly and explained that if he were to transform into a baby, then he would have to go back to the Cherry Room (daycare) and not have any teeth. Right? He makes me laugh.
Where is the reset button?
By evening the day had wildly improved, though I was still feeling out of sorts. Naptime brought peace into the household. Post-naptime was full of energy and activity. I was still wishing for bedtime and it was after 8:00 pm when I finally got a shower, and the boys were sprinting from room to room.
It was too predictable.
Laughter turned into tears when they crashed into eachother and tumbled down. Bonked heads, I made them sit on opposite sides of the sofa with icepacks.
This is headbonked boy # 1.
And his younger headbonked brother.
Finally, finally they slept. And now so will I. This headbonked mama is ready to crash.