On Being a Mom

I could never ever capture in writing how much I think about my two children. 
I could never ever capture the depth, the angst, the pride, the love, or the fear that comes with this absolutely brilliantly difficult role of mother.
It's quite stunning.
Remarkable.
Unbelievable and
TRUE.

Lately I've been gifted with some uncomfortable comments about my child's personality from friends.
Or some tidbits about his temperament from other adults in his life.  
I'm not sure how I feel about these comments.   I certainly have to curb my defensive nature, and observe my mama bear tendencies. 
Yes, my son is sometimes quiet and shy.  Sometimes afraid to take risks. 
Yes, my son is sometimes hesitant to speak up.  And certainly at seven years old,  more of a follower than a leader.
Yes, he is a sensitive boy, still prone to tears when an injustice occurs. 
This is all true.  

But he is so much more than this. 
He is thoughtful and discriminating.  He listens.  
He is so very loving to his circle of friends.
He is deeply loyal.
He is tolerant, kind, gentle and feeling.
He is smart and very capable.
He is creative, silly, funny, and very very strong.
Kinesthetically the boy is genius.
Give him a trail, a body of water, a rock wall to climb, and he is free.

And as his mom, of course I want him to be brave, outspoken, perhaps even bold. 
But temperament is not chosen.  It just is.  Introverts and quiet children are hard for adults.  We like the loud, confident, verbal children.  The charming ones.  And as his mother I want more than anything to provide for him the experiences he needs to feel resilient and empowered, capable, and secure.  I want to keep judgement away and keep acceptance around him. 
It is my deepest responsibility to believe in him as he learns to believe in himself. 
And to this I devote my life.  To parent him with my heart wide open, my instincts sharp, my faith at full pitch.  And this means I need to figure out a way to hear comments about him that nip at my ego. 
That cause me to waver on this faithful road of mothering well.  To keep back the flood waters of fear that can result when you focus on vulnerabilities rather than strengths.  And to remind others as well, that there is nothing, nothing more beautiful than the innocence, vulnerability, and truth of a child as he is.  Nothing.  In other words, to stay right there, unconditionally loving any child as they navigate the complicated world of childhood and growing up. 

Under Water in January

I've got a bad case of the January blues. 
EVERYTHING looks so monochromatic: NO green, no leaves, no sun, no light, and my mood feels dreary.  It would be so easy right now to sink into the bleakness.  Once one thing goes, it could easily all follow right down the rabbit hole.  But I have half of a mind left; a third eye looking out for multi colors. 

We took the boys for an overnight with a group of friends yesterday.  To a mediocre hotel that had an indoor pool, a fireplace, but not much else.   Nirvana for the kids.  The boys absolutely loved it.  Running around with a pack of other kids, playing spy, hide-n-seek, swimming, playing board games, and basically feeling very in-charge.  It was a perfect hotel for this pack of kids going just a little bit wild.   We made up 80% of the overnight guests so I don't think we annoyed anyone at all.  The kids even got to make their own waffles this morning at breakfast.  

Quite honestly, the blue of the pool was the brightest color of the weekend.  The blue of the deep warm pool, with the drippy ceiling, and the cool air was the brightest blue I've seen in a long time.  Follow this with the bright green of the little pieces of fresh leaf that the leaf cutting ants carried at the science center.  Add to it the bright red, yellow, orange colors in the abstract Charlie Harper prints at the museum.  And the sweet sweet peach of my children's skin, the soft green-blue of their eyes, the blue of Anna's cast, and I think I can feel a little warmth coming back into my veins.  How about the quiet often interrupted conversations with my friends....about school, about our children, about the quirkiness of life.  

And then here we are, home again.    Our home.   It's here I get to fluff the life back in.  Add to the atmosphere of my home....make it warm, bright, and full of heart and soul.   Just so we can make it through these particularly bleak winter months - with one of us in a cast, two of us needing so much to run and play outside in the sun, and the remaining one, me, knowing it's all about how you choose to look at things- in black and white or color.  And even under water in January the blue can be quite luminescent.   

That'll Cost You One Penny

As Anders and Kuba were going to sleep last night Anders reached across and took a hold of Kuba's hand.  Anders is and has been a hand holder since he was a baby.  Kuba immediately took his hand away.  Anders said to Kuba  "I just want to hold your hand."  Kuba said "That'll cost you one penny then."  Anders said, "No, I don't want to pay you a penny to hold your hand."  Kuba  "Then it'll cost you $1.00.  It's up to you - pay me one penny and hold my hand, or don't hold my hand and pay me one dollar."   Smart kid, and great negotiator.   Anders in the end agreed to pay the penny and did get to hold Kuba's hand as they fell asleep.  Yet another win win in the negotiating life of my boys. 

F L U

I believe it's been 24 years since I last had the flu.  And now, more than two decades later I've been struck by the dreaded virus once again.

It sort of just hit me.   I came home from work on Friday night feeling just a little ill - headache, body ache, chills.  I took a long hot shower and then crashed.   Saturday I awoke with great denial, proceeded to take down the Christmas tree, decorations, make dinner, etc.   And that night my fever hit.

I don't remember the last time I had a fever either, maybe 24 years ago as well.  Anyway, I truly got to understand what it's like for my kids when they have a fever.   They don't need much at all except a nice warm bed, plenty of fluids, and rest.  All desire to move and engage goes away, and during the fever you don't really care about moving anyway.  I was completely content to do absolutely nothing but lay under the covers alternating between chills and hot flashes.  The whole time a part of me was observing and thinking - this has to be over soon, this can't really be real.  I awoke Monday to another day with a fever, headache, chills and hot flashes.  I called in sick to work which again is noteworthy.  Still, the whole time a part of me continued thinking, this can't be real, this can't really be the flu, I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow.  And then I went online and checked flu symptoms.  I had them all.   Okay, so I have the flu. 

It is now Tuesday.  My fever is gone, but my energy has not returned.  My headache remains, and the focus of this virus has now gone to my sinuses and lungs.  Fun.  Really fun.  I woke up today convinced I was going to school tomorrow.   I will now wait until tomorrow morning to decide this.  Based on this moment I would say no.  But healing is mystical.  

Late last night I was awake from 2:00 in the morning until nearly 5 o'clock am.  I used this time wisely.  I had a lovely bout of anxiety about all of the things I am missing at work, have to do, and I created mental list upon mental list until I had worked myself up into a worried mess of tangled thoughts.  It must have been another path of the virus: create mental torture in the victim about all the things they are neglecting while they lay there on the couch mending. 

So, with me down and Anna in a cast we've had to rely on our friends and family.  Anders and Kuba have been picked up and dropped off at school each day, my sister and friends have been stopping at the grocery store for us picking up essentials so we can make lunches and have milk in the house.  And as I watch my friends guide my children out to their cars on the way to school I must say I am so struck by how many kind loving people we know.   And I feel lucky, in spite of the damn flu. 

"It's Gonna Plunge!"

We sometimes have a problem with our toilet overflowing.   If you've ever had this problem you know the panic associated with the realization that it's going to overflow.   The boys have been witness to this more than once and Kuba has developed a bit of anxiety when he flushes.   He opens the bathroom door to ensure a quick escape, and then starts exclaiming. "It's gonna plunge, I know it's gonna plunge!!"  Fear and excitement all part of his emotional tone.   I love that he has adopted the word plunge to mean overflow...as we are always saying "get the plunger" if it does look as if it's overflowing.  Mind you, it doesn't happen that often, but clearly enough drama has ensued to make this little guy a bit concerned about the toilet "plunging."