right so anyway i've had a wholly crappy few days but today fate, the stars and (trying to think of some appropriate deity here; all i can come up with is elmo...) whomever colluded to bring me out of this godforsaken funk.
it was a sunny day today. we got up early and did that nice sunday morning pottering thing where it feels like you are in an ongoing conversation even though noone says anything, necessarily, and you may all be in different rooms.
p. went to a birthday party this afternoon, so my son and i went to the park. nothing can coax r. out from behind his cuddle blanket like an opportunity to get dizzy, so we hared about the playground in a manner reminiscent of those pharmaceutical trials on spiders, from swings to slide, to smaller slide, to swing, to wierd rocking cockerel thing, to slide, to metal toadstool, to swing, to slide, to slide. but something caught my eye. i came over all private benjamin.
"rudy, " i said, "how would you like to try the super grown up balancing journey."
together, we looked across at the small course. stepping stones. logs on springs. small rope bridges. a low-wire of chain. we squinted into the dappled light that fell on the course, surrounded as it is by trees and low seasonal flora. we checked the windspeed and direction. we prepared ourselves mentally. we camouflaged our faces with boot polish.
"yeah," said rudy. and we went for it.
i was surprised and encouraged by r's enthusiasm and confidence, and his insistence that he would do this thing at his own pace. older boys came up behind us. rudy explained very reasonably that they would have to wait. they did. it didn't take long to do, this course, but it was quite meaningful for me; something i will remember.
as we reached the end, in a particular hairy part, r., slightly in front of me said,
"mummy, look! there are crocodiles all below us!"
"gosh, well, we need to be careful then."
"noooo, mummy. they won't eat us- they're cheering for us! yay!"
and with that, he jumped off the end of the course- something i would never have thought i'd see him do even two months ago.
i have a lot to learn from this boy.
.
it was a sunny day today. we got up early and did that nice sunday morning pottering thing where it feels like you are in an ongoing conversation even though noone says anything, necessarily, and you may all be in different rooms.
p. went to a birthday party this afternoon, so my son and i went to the park. nothing can coax r. out from behind his cuddle blanket like an opportunity to get dizzy, so we hared about the playground in a manner reminiscent of those pharmaceutical trials on spiders, from swings to slide, to smaller slide, to swing, to wierd rocking cockerel thing, to slide, to metal toadstool, to swing, to slide, to slide. but something caught my eye. i came over all private benjamin.
"rudy, " i said, "how would you like to try the super grown up balancing journey."
together, we looked across at the small course. stepping stones. logs on springs. small rope bridges. a low-wire of chain. we squinted into the dappled light that fell on the course, surrounded as it is by trees and low seasonal flora. we checked the windspeed and direction. we prepared ourselves mentally. we camouflaged our faces with boot polish.
"yeah," said rudy. and we went for it.
i was surprised and encouraged by r's enthusiasm and confidence, and his insistence that he would do this thing at his own pace. older boys came up behind us. rudy explained very reasonably that they would have to wait. they did. it didn't take long to do, this course, but it was quite meaningful for me; something i will remember.
as we reached the end, in a particular hairy part, r., slightly in front of me said,
"mummy, look! there are crocodiles all below us!"
"gosh, well, we need to be careful then."
"noooo, mummy. they won't eat us- they're cheering for us! yay!"
and with that, he jumped off the end of the course- something i would never have thought i'd see him do even two months ago.
i have a lot to learn from this boy.
.
For whatever reason you and your children bring tears to my eyes. I especially love the way you have found words for them, the spectrum sprites. Motherhood is so hard. My daughter was a pistol. All the other mothers felt sorry for me. I called her my little wolverine. How to name both the difficult and the love. Now of course she is checking many boxes on the success checklist. But because of the early years, I am ok should the checking off falter, or even cease, as long as she is OK. You are a nice mother. Happy Mother's Day.
ReplyDeletewhat an inspiring post, and yes, we can all learn from Rudy. I hope you feel validated - acceptance and unconditional love are empowering.
ReplyDeletehappy belated mother's day, ladies!
ReplyDeletewill respond fully when it is not 2am.
*cheers along with crocs*
ReplyDeleteps I can assure you that Rudy is right, crocs are rather nice, we've had one here fr years and sure we've had to tell him off for trying to eat Egg, he still hasn't ;) The croc is our beloved crocodile puppet, called crocodile :0)
@ LPC- thankyou. and yes- i too am the mother of a wolverine, although i seem to attract more judgement than sympathy. or maybe i am just paranoid.
ReplyDeleteyou're right- okay is far more important than success.
@ laura- one thing that does keep me awake at night is the possibilty that rudy may one day cotton on to his inate wisdom and start a cult. one that involves lugging a tired pink bit of fleece around everywhere and not eating eggs.
@ rainbowmummy, crocodiles, eh?... surprisingly supportive/ domisticable(?)!
Yeah we do a sort of ABA plan with it,don't eat the kid get an M&M ;)
ReplyDelete