Who Could Argue with That?

I sometimes miss these days of very young boyisms, but a wise woman once told me to find something to enjoy in every phase. That’s the trick to living in the moment.

-AS

Who Could Argue With That?

  • Originally posted on a 6s community, June 13, 2011 at 12:21pm

Air rushes past my ears and rattles the leaves above us. Eldest clicks in time to the stick he drags along the concrete, while Third screeches “Bird, bird!”

Middling hears the clouds speaking, and I don’t discount his conversation. A weedeater winds its fierce bit of string; a truck idles in gassy fumes; somewhere, a dog yips up a storm of self-confidence; we christen a squirrel “Chitter” for the sound she makes at us from her loft in the pine.

I try to focus our effort at exploring the sounds of our neighborhood. As it happens, the children think they may cease to exist if they cannot see through closed eyes and cannot hear themselves through sealed lips; who could argue with that?

The Reinvention of Me: Reinventing Summer

This morning as I write I feel the most anxious I have felt in a while. With two hands clamped tightly about my heart, I struggled to get up and take my morning medicine along with the antihistamine prescribed for moments like these. Through shower, drinking water, and eating breakfast, the anxiety remains. But I must keep going; littles are here.

A couple of weeks ago, I warned the boys that I am a different mom than they left in January when they began brick-and-mortar schooling. They are also different. I’m not the mom who is barely hanging on. I’m not the mom who relies on videos and naps to get through the day. I’m not the mom on edge.

Then days like today crop up and it all feels too much. The difference is that the days don’t happen every day. It gives me a reserve that doesn’t feel too reserved at first.

When I say that summer curriculum is a thing, what I mean is this: I must plan to be active in the summer because my default is to retreat. It’s a survival mechanism as much as anything else. It gives me a pattern to follow so that on bad days I can get up and follow a map. Do one. Do two. Do three. Until you feel better or the day ends.

Already, today, I’m feeling a bit better. The antihistamine is doing its thing. The water, maybe, too. Perhaps writing this. A hug from a boy. The panic is diminishing rather than rising.

This is a big change for my boys. They are not yet acclimated. Yes, they saw me every day during the last semester but only before and after school.

Last night, Eldest said, “Don’t you get it? We just want to have a normal summer!”

I do get it. Now there are expectations and rules. There are places to go and things to do. There’s a system of points gained and lost that governs free time and screen time. Still, a big part of me wanted to reply, “Don’t you get it? That was never normal!” It was their normal, though. So I hugged him and saw him to bed at a reasonable hour and hoped he would find something today to fill his cup.

I don’t blame my people for thinking the bottom may fall out. They’ve been vigilant too long to give it up easily. Relapse is a real danger. It always will be. But today I am able. Today I have reserves and tools. Today we reinvent summer.

If you like, you can follow our summer curriculum at Indelible Words in a series called Summer Dreamin’ with My Boys.