Back in action

There's nothing like a sick child to completely alter the trajectory of your week. I committed to showing up to my writing group Friday with some real work accomplished but when your kid needs you to play lego in order to distract him from his misery what are you going to do? This is my little B, and he knows he's got me wrapped around his little finger.

So... Drawings were drawn, coloring was colored, block towers were built, and lego guys met various dramatic and fiery ends. But no writing was written, no bills were paid, no shopping was done, and no garbage was taken out. This morning saw E running down the street behind the sanitation truck with the garbage can in hand. (If only I had a picture of that to share!) Nobody without kids can possibly understand how life can get THAT out of control. I certainly never did, B.C.*

So this morning, I took him back to school, and we have clearly backslid on the whole separating from mommy thing. D has his own struggles; this is B's, currrently. He will stand in the hall in front of his classroom in tears, bottom lip quivering, telling me "I just love you TOO MUCH." Or he tells me "I can't LIVE WITHOUT YOU!" And it's true, he is feeling the pain--it makes him miserable. Though I'm not above suggesting that he has inherited a little of my dramatic flair.

By the time I pick him up, of course, he is usually happily playing with his classmates--but some mornings I just can't take the drama.

B and I are so much alike that I can't help but see in him all my own weaknesses and fallibilities. I was equally bad at separating from parents at his age. I was equally shy and overstimulated by social situations. If I tell E I worry about B he rolls his eyes and tells me to take a freakin' pill, that he's totally fine, and E's right. But I see him holding back from the group in the kindergarten class,  not quite knowing how to be part of the gang, and I can feel exactly what he's feeling--it's like going through school myself all over again.

I also spent just as much time as he does hanging or swinging or jumping or dancing or otherwise aloft. He makes other adults nervous with the physical risks he takes but I don't want to hinder him. I want him to keep flying through the air, to keep challenging himself; it's when he looks most truly himself to me. I get such a thrill out of watching him. And I'm glad he's off the couch now and back in action.

I love the quote by Elizabeth Stone: "Making the decision to have a child--it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." Internet, meet the other half of my heart.

*before children