Saturday, April 29, 2017

Birthday Eve

"Mom, those are bows. Not giant flies," he said to me as he drew his last picture of age 7.

Tomorrow he's 8!

How do you do this, child? Because drawing isn't my area of expertise. But you, son, you are talented.

 "I can tell," I say. "You've really been practicing a lot. How's the new mechanical pencil?"

"It's pretty cool. Thanks, Mom."

He found an orange mechanical pencil the other day after school, as we walked across the parking lot. As usual, we were the last to leave. The sun was bright and warm, but the wind was whipping in off the straight, blowing at a minimum of 20 mph, but gusting much higher. 

I know because I could feel the wind blow in my hair. Don't take that for granted. There was a time that my hair used to blow in the wind and I'd feel it all the time and I'd get pissed when it whipped me in the eye because that shit hurts! I'd be trying to get a goddamn hair tie or a scruncci or a whateverthefuck I could get my hands on and in my hair and had a messy bun before there was such a thing. At this point in life, I don't have the time or energy or patience to let my hair grow in. I don't know if I'll ever grow it out again. Cancer has a way of slapping you in the face with a feeling of deep uncertainty.

So he found a bright orange, mechanical pencil, with a 0.5mm lead. I keep telling him there are benefits of having awareness. Of seeing details. Of being quick and observant. Of being short, because if you're lower to the ground you can see things on the ground. How amazing his brain is. How different. The differences between the two of them. And of course there was an issue with the pencil as soon as we got to the car.

Because also as usual, his older brother was trailing behind us, and every few steps I'd have to stop and yell a variation of "hurry-up-come-on-let's-go" and then he'd yell "MOM! Parenting's like pushing rope!"

Yes. Yes it is. He gets that from me. The humor. That's all me.

So, the little dude is gonna be 8 tomorrow! Sweet Jesus, how time flies.

Unless you're in my family. Then it drags like a motherfucker. Major, life-altering, traumatic, health-related events will do that to a person. More than I ever anticipated. More than I ever studied. Nothing can prepare a person for any of it. What is the lesson? I try to be easy on myself. "Do. Or do not. There is no try."

Yes. Exactly. Stop trying so hard. Do. I express myself. I teach. Maybe I need more yoga. And more sex. And walking. But not walking and sex at the same time. Humor. Gotta have humor. I let the good in where I can.

I bumped into a friend today, when my older son and I were out running errands, including a Lego run, where he purchased a gift for his younger brother with his own money (what?!), as well as a quick look for 0.5mm lead that I couldn't find so I got a 2 pack of mechanical 0.7mm lead, and the pencils were green and blue, which is a major win because each child gets his favorite color. We also did a grocery run, a post office run, a pharmacy run, and Swain's. Because they have everything. Including one of the Ducks

Yes, you absolutely can have your picture taken with the duck.
We visited for a few minutes, and then my friend kinda summed it up when he said, "Man, your family just has a lot of bad luck."

Because that's one way to look at it.
 
And I said, "Yeah, that's one way to look at it. But we keep moving forward." Because, really, what else can you say? And, what else can you do?

And my son said to our friend, "Wow you've got a lot of popcorn!"

Because Swain's has popcorn. Obviously. They have everything.

And, no shit, this dude had like 8 bags of Swain's popcorn, stuffed into two plastic bags. And he reached into one of the plastic bags and gave a bag to my son, and offered one to me, which I politely declined. I have some self-control. Not much, but some. 

Anyway, self-control. Super important for 8-year-olds to learn. Hopefully this year will be joyous for this child. Because when I look at him and what he's been through, he's got a shit ton of life that's happened to him.

My heart hurts for him because his normal is high stress. He's a child who has trauma. And I know what the research says about a high stress environment on a developing brain. And it terrifies me for him. So I don't read the statistics. I did when my older son was diagnosed six years ago with epilepsy, and I know I'm one click away from going down a very deep dark rabbit hole. And you don't bloody your fingernails crawling out of the epilepsy rabbit hole to be thrown into the autism rabbit hole and the breast cancer rabbit hole and the tonsil cancer rabbit hole, just to voluntarily throw yourself into the negative health implications of trauma and stress on the developing brain rabbit hole.

So, my beautiful boy....

My fun-loving, clever, quick-witted, athletically talented, super-smart, artistically driven, drama-king, flirtatious, brave and courageous, mathematician, who is full of kindness and love....

May this year's trip around the sun grant your wishes and bring you joy. May you find wonder and excitement in each day. May you continue to hug me and your dad. And tell me you love me. Because I love you, too. 


6 weeks old; hiding out in the bathroom from his brother


All my love always. Lots of love and hugs and kisses.
Love,
Mom
xoxoxoxoxo

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