Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Contentment
contentment
noun
satisfaction, gratification, fulfillment, happiness, pleasure, cheerfulness, ease, comfort, well-being, peace, equanimity, serenity, tranquility
I don’t remember the last time I felt “content.”
I’ve lived much of my adult life in a constant state of uneasiness; unsure of what tomorrow would bring or even how today would end. I know now, what I can expect of tomorrow and I take comfort in the knowledge that I won’t have to defend my right to have my own opinion and that I can make my own decisions without being judged for them and suffering anyone else’s disapproval.
I am at peace that the decisions I have made are the right ones for me and my children, and that the people I have allowed into my life are leaving a positive footprint behind. I know that my life is better today because Tim is a part of it, and I am certain that whatever Life throws at me, I can handle it – we can handle it – no problem is too big to be overcome.
I am content enough to sleep. I haven’t slept well in years, but lately I’ve been falling asleep the moment my head hits the pillow. I’m not lying awake for hours unhappy and worrying, only to get up and sleep on the couch, the TV lulling me to sleep in the wee morning hours. I wake up refreshed and with a smile on my face, ready for whatever today may bring. Because I am the one piloting my life right now and that feels good.
I am at Peace. I am Happy. I am Content.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Who is Tim? A Guest Post by Tim
I’ve only done this once before, a couple of years ago when I let Dillon guest post on Cartwheels. But we’ve had a special request by Rachael for more info about Tim. So I asked him to read her comment and here’s what he wrote:
“Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome.” -Booker T. Washington
Who is Tim? The quote above says a lot about me. I have had my obstacles in life. Every one of them has a positive in it. Sometimes it’s hard to find the positive but it’s always there; we all have them. A son with autism has taught me what is important in life. When a little boy who can only say a handful of words looks at you at 6 am, and he waits ’til you look him in the eye and then says “HI,” it teaches you that nothing in life is more important at that moment to him than you are. He may never say “Dad” but his love for you is unconditional.
That loud noisy band in your garage is annoying as hell. Be thankful those kids are out there and not out running around doing who knows what? Hearing a door slam at 1am means that your kids have made it home safe again. I wouldn’t trade that door slam for anything.
I have told Paige many times that I have gone through a pile of shit to get where I am. I wouldn’t trade where I am for anything in the world. My life is really good right now and getting better every day. There really is nothing I/We can’t handle. Thank you to all of you that have helped her get through her pile. We have both come through it at the same time and growing closer every day, learning who we are and where we are going.
It’s going to be good!!!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Puzzle Pieces, Found
On August 2nd, 2008, I will be marrying this man. I know in my soul that we were meant to be together. I knew it from before our meal was served on our very first date. He is the most thoughtful and compassionate man I have ever known. He is an amazing father to his sons and an incredible role model for Dillon and Mackenzie.
We are uncannily alike (beyond the fact that we share a birthday). Except for the unfortunate Sushi discrepancy, we have similar food likes and dislikes (milk, no; liver, yes), we watch the same shows (and share the same opinion of Reality TV). Our wardrobe leans towards the casual (jeans and t’s thankyouverymuch). Our religious beliefs are in agreement (Catholics, lapsed). We have a tendency to take in strays (kids and all they drag along – the current count is 4 kids, 2 dogs, a cat, a snake, a fish, and a tarantula; 1 girlfriend, 1 wandering soul, and 2 friends who are always hungry).
He thinks my quirks are cute. I think his sincerity is stunning. He thinks my photography and writing are amazing. I think his chosen profession is admirable. Our children “get” one another. We fit perfectly together, like the last two pieces of an unfinished puzzle. I needed him and I didn’t even know it. I thought I didn’t need any man.
He is patient. He waited a year to ask me out; he waited until he sensed I was ready. He had a Three Day Plan to make me fall in love with him but he didn’t even need one day. His Three Day Plan completely blew my Five Year (No Man) Plan out of the water and is an accomplishment he is very proud of this year.
I am Happy. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt Happiness without fear or trepidation or waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the first time in my adult life, I feel like Happiness is not a temporary emotion. This Happy is for real. And it’s here to stay.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Girl, Married.
On August 2nd, I married a dream.
His name is Tim and he’s the man I thought didn’t exist. Our similarities are striking. People just meeting us think we’ve been married forever. Those who have known us forever say that we were made for each other.
The ceremony was perfect. Casual and comfy, just like us. Our closest friends and family were there to share the perfectly cloudless day with us. We had the ceremony at the clubhouse and pool in Tim’s parent’s neighborhood. There was beer and soda and hamburgers, veggies and potato salad and cake. The mayor married us – the ceremony lasted 3 minutes – 7 minutes from walk in to walk out. More than one person there told us that we “got it right.”
And at the end of the day, we went to our hotel room where we ordered a pizza, drank some wine and exchanged cards…
Perfect.
Friday, September 26, 2008
7 Days:Day 7: Reunited
Yesterday was challenging. What follows is only 1/3 of the issues we dealt with, and only the tip of this iceberg for this issue:
About 6 months ago, it became apparent that Tim’s 13-year-old son Alex, who is Autistic and non-verbal, needed something more than what his then-classroom could provide so at the urging of others, we started looking at more specialized and intensive programs. Unfortunately, as our town is middle-sized and not a large city, our choices were limited. After much research and deliberation, we decided on a residential treatment facility in Indianapolis that specializes in Autism. The plan was that he would live at school during the week (with visitors almost every evening) and come home to our home and his mom’s home on alternating weekends. This was an intensive intervention to teach him sign language and basic life skills that was to last only a year or two before he would return to our home and pick up with his peers here in the public school system.
At the beginning of September, after much preparation and discussion about the transition, we took him to his new school. During the course of the past 3 1/2 weeks, Alex went from a happy, social boy to a despondent, weepy boy. When we would go visit him during the week, he would sign that he was sick – he wanted to go home and thought his was his ticket out of there. We began to think that he was placed in the wrong unit or the wrong classroom and has asked for a meeting with the school to discuss other options. But when we arrived for our visit on Thursday night, and found his teacher alone in her classroom, we decided to go in and ask her how he was doing. We noticed right away that the colorful and stimulating classroom that we had toured during the summer was barren and sterile. The old teacher had left and this teacher was new. Her responses to our questions were less-than-promising. She stated that he was non-responsive in class, that he had not been using the signs he knows, but that he could pick some out on flash cards. Flash cards? Learning more signs and enhancing his communication was one of the primary reasons he was there. I’m not a teacher, but I know that using flash cards to teach Alex to communicate will not work. We were promised a Sign Language expert and that everyone in contact with Alex would know his signs. This did not happen. The teacher stated that he seemed “spaced out,” “lost” and “scared.” She said that he had been “targeted” by a couple kids in the class who pinched and shoved him. When asked if she thought Alex belonged in her classroom, she hesitated and couldn’t give us an answer. When asked if she could provide us with a daily or weekly update, oddly enough, she didn’t even have our email address. We left her classroom knowing that this teacher was incompetent to teach Alex. Disheartened, we went to get Alex out of the Autism Unit to take him off-campus for a milkshake.
At 6pm, we found our boy alone in his room, rocking (as autistic kids will tend to do) in a corner, with the lights and tv off. He had on a dirty shirt, his face was dirty, his hair greasy. He smiled at us when we walked in, but there was a cry right behind that smile. We told him we were taking him for a milkshake. He asked, “Home?” We told him that no, his mom was coming to get him tomorrow – we were just going for a milkshake. Tim changed Alex’s shirt and we went to Culver’s where he barely engaged with us, leaned into his dad the entire time we were there, and signed that he was sick. On the way back to his school, we called the director of the autism unit and asked for a meeting with him today. It was arranged for 1pm. When we got to the school, we walked around the track a couple of times before taking him back to his room and reading him a story. He didn’t want us to go, but we told him that we would be back tomorrow and kissed him goodbye.
Leaving that child there was one of the hardest things we ever had to do. We didn’t want to leave him, but we didn’t want to react to the situation instead of thinking it through and responding appropriately. A lot of people had jumped thorough a lot of hoops for us to get Alex placed there, in the “best autism treatment center in central Indiana.” But by the time we reached our home, we knew we were bringing him home for good today and that no promise the administration could make to us would make us feel like he was safe and well in their care.
Our meeting at 1:00 today was cancelled due to an emergency. Ten minutes after hearing that news, we were in the car on the way to Indy, with empty Rubbermaid boxes in the back. When we walked into the unit at 11:30, we asked Alex, “Want to go home?” He laughed and jumped up and down and said yes. I don’t think he understood the magnitude of what we were asking until we took the boxes to his room and I started to put his clothes in one. He watched me for a minute then started grabbing things off his bed – blankie, Mr. Crabs, and his puppet Sammy, and threw them into an empty box. He was going home and he knew it. The boy that we had lost for a month was back. He giggled and laughed and hugged us and smiled all the way home.
He’s asleep in the room next to ours as I type. We don’t know what the future holds for Alex, but we know that it won’t ever be far from us again. We know that we can’t provide the best Autism treatment money can buy, but we can provide love and safety and a happy home for him. He’s here to stay. This is where he belongs.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Alex
It has occurred to me during the past couple of weeks that I haven’t properly introduced you to my two new sons yet. As we’ve been on the topic of Alex, I’ll continue with him and then introduce you to Joe.
Alex is almost 14. He is 2 months older than Mackenzie, still leaving her in her role of the “baby” of the family. Alex is happy, he is sensitive, he is smart – he’s smarter than you think; he has a great sense of humor and is quite a teaser. Alex is affectionate – he is a hugger and a toucher. Alex is non-verbal. He uses mostly signs or gestures and his few words to communicate with us. He signs “daddy,” he says “ma.” He signs drink, bathroom, movie, swim, fish, school, home – he has about 40 signs in all, including special signs for Joe and Mackenzie. He has about 15 words, including doggy, home, please, and no & why which he saves for those special occasions when we are lulled into a sense of complacency and we forget that he’s our baby, but also a teenager. Alex always wears a ball cap and a plastic wristband on each arm (the current flavor is Livestrong)… always. Alex has autism.
Alex loves to watch movies and he’ll watch them over and over if left to his own devices. He thinks Indiana Jones is great, Spiderman & Batman are two of his favorite heroes, and anything with a dog is worth watching, in his opinion. Bob the Builder is a favorite and Bob even has his own sign – simulating a hammering motion, fyi.
Alex loves airplanes and air shows. He owns a truckload of toy airplanes and several airshow DVDs. Evidently, a guy can never have too many airplanes. Naturally, he has a thing for fire trucks and all things fireman – toys, pictures, books, blankets, videos, clothes – you name it, we’ve got it in a firefighter theme. (All but the dog – we have 2 dogs, neither one with a spot between them.) Alex has a road map rug, facilitating the leaving-around of thousands of matchbox cars. (Watch your step at my house.) Speaking of maps, I keep a map in my car because Alex loves to look at a map (and then usually tells us we need to head to Nebraska or New Mexico or somewhere equally unlikely). Alex loves to play with an old, rotary-dial phone. He gets out the phone book and calls his friend Ross from school. Sometimes he calls his mom or his grandma.
Alex really only wants to drink Root Beer. In the morning, we can talk him into chocolate milk, and recently we’ve been able to sneak in some water enhanced with a flavoring. He doesn’t like ice cream because it’s too cold, but loves a vanilla milkshake. Alex will eat just about anything. He LOVES him some chips & salsa, sugar snap peas, and corn on the cob, but his absolute favorite is crab and will eat an adult portion at a restaurant (and then some – watch your plate).
Alex’s favorite person in the whole world is his dad:
Alex will be starting at Mackenzie’s school in a few days. We are hopeful that the new teacher will teach him some new signs, his numbers 1-10, some letters beyond those in his name, and begin to teach him basic but necessary life skills, some which will eventually lead to a vocation, be it bagging groceries or working at a recycling facility (the kid LOVES to recycle). We don’t know what the future holds for Alex, but we do know that he will never lead an independent life – he will always need some measure of supervision. For now, we know that Alex will be in school until he’s 21, after which we will have to evaluate the possibilities. Being unsure might sound scary, but it’s ok – we’ve got 7 years to decide what we’ll do, and until then, we’ll just relax and enjoy our family.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Joe
…and completely stole the show. He had a lead in the school’s fall production of Neil Simon’s “Rumors,” and last month put on an incredible Lumiere from “Beauty and the Beast,” French accent and all. He made the school’s premiere choir, First Edition and just participated in an amazing Christmas Show.
Joe has played the guitar forever. If you chance to mosey past our house, you are likely to get a private concert – even from the street (God love the amp). I’d worry about our neighbors except that the neighbor has his own amp to compete with Joe’s.
Joe is a typical teenager – he sometimes gets too big for his britches, but has a heart of gold and will help out if only you ask. He has an infectious smile and when he breaks out into a (usually mischievous) grin, you can’t help but smile back at his giant dimples and sincerity.
Joe does everything at full speed. He often leaves doors open behind him and rarely takes the time to fully dry off after his shower – he walks through the house leaving a trail of water to show where he’s been. As you can imagine, his room is usually a disaster and when we can catch him coming or going is when we have to remind him that it needs to be cleaned periodically.
Joe is intense. He feels emotions sharply and believes in his convictions with all his might. He tends to throw himself into everything he does, which probably is what makes him such an amazing performer. Joe loves to debate. To channel his skills away from the parental units, we are encouraging him to join the school Debate Team where he can debate to his heart’s content. Joe loves Fall Out Boy and was horrified to learn that I had no idea who Patrick Stump was. Now I know.
Joe wants to major in Radio and TV (and Music) Production and currently hopes to pursue that Dream at Ball State. But that’s “currently.” He also has a tendency to change his mind with the wind. I’ll keep you posted.
Even though his peaceful, independent, bachelor lifestyle ended when he, Tim and Alex moved into my home, I think if you asked him he’d say that he is happy to be a part of the Crazy that lives here. He and Dillon are like two peas in a pod – have you seen “Step Brothers?” That’s their theme movie. He now has Mac to gang up on Tim and I with and to join him on a mall-run (or Sonic – they love Sonic).
I, for one, am glad Joe is a part of my family. He makes me laugh and calls me “Momma,” just like Dillon does. He gives me a hug when he sees I’m having a bad day and occasionally kisses me when he leaves. He brings an energy to the house that Mackenzie, Dillon and I were lacking – he gives our ultra-laid-backedness (yes, I made that up. I do that.) a much-needed shot of oomph. While he adds his fair share of “Crazy” to the home, Mac and I agree that it wouldn’t be nearly as fun around here without Joe in the house. So thank you, Sweetie, for being you.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Standing on the Threshold of 2009
Last year, Annie dubbed 2008 “The Year of Paige.” She was right and I rocked the last year. I worked, I paid the mortgage all by myself, I mothered 2 children alone, I maintained my home, and I fell in love. Right in the middle of my I-Am-Woman-Hear-Me-Roar One Woman Show, I fell in love…
And you know how you go to your stuffy Great-Aunt Gertrude’s home for Thanksgiving and everyone is dressed up in their finest and using every single manner that they ever learned and then, during a lull in the conversation at the Adult Table, YOUR PRE-SCHOOLER drops the F-Bomb at the top of his lungs? You know how it makes the very Earth slow down and the entire Universe of Your Family sucks in their collective breath to see what is going to happen? And then every single eye in the room is on you? While the cogs in their brains are working overtime to try and figure this out – how this could happen Right Here and Right Now?
In my world, that is what happened last summer when Tim and I announced that we were going to get married. I didn’t expect anyone to understand it, but I knew it was Right. And now, barely six months later, my 968 square-foot bungalow with a basement has expanded to include an attic room, my 3-person family has expanded to 7, the peace and quiet and clean is all but gone, and I am happier than I have ever been in my life and my family can see that. I have a husband, but I also have a Voice. I have to compromise again, but my needs and desires Count. I don’t run a bank or perform life-saving surgeries, but to my husband and my children, I am as Important as the CEOs who run this country and the doctors who save our lives.
There are still repurcussions from my past life that bite me in the butt every day, but 2008 gave me Power. It taught me to stand up for myself and fight for what is right. It taught me that rolling over on important issues will not work for me and that I have a responsibility not only to myself, but to my children to take a stand.
I’ve closed the door on 2008 and standing on the threshold of 2009, I am happier than I have ever been in my life. I don’t yet know what the new year has in store for us, but I do know that whatever comes our way, Tim and I will handle it together – the good and the bad.
And anyway, I have a feeling – it’s going to be a happy year.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
All We Ask is a Little Understanding
Transitions are hard for Alex. He needs fair warning if we are to leave the house, if it’s time to take down the Christmas tree, or if it’s almost time to turn off the movie and take a bath. Autistic children prefer order and routine. They don’t like you to spring a new plan on them without plenty of advance notice. And for an autistic child of divorce, the change in households, routine, expectations, and rules can be terribly disorienting.
Alex spends every other weekend with his mother in Indianapolis (and usually one night of that with her parents in town) and those Sunday nights when he comes home can be so frustrating for him. Last Sunday evening, he was a little fired up when he came home from his visit so I put “Bee Movie” in the DVD player in his room so that he could watch and just chill out for the 30 minutes before bed which he watched for a bit before asking for Tim. I explained and signed to him that Tim was at work but that we could call him on the phone so Alex could talk to him. While the phone was ringing, Alex signed “boat” (meaning that he wanted to watch PT109). We only have that movie on the DVD hard drive located out in the living room where Mac was reading and it was only 10 minutes before bed, so I told Alex that we could not watch it tonight but that we could watch it tomorrow. This information was more than he could handle and his little mouth opened up and he closed his eyes and just started bawling. (Of course at this moment, Tim answered the phone and wondered what the hell was going on. I quickly explained and told him we would have to call him back.) Alex came to me and put his arms around me, soaking my shoulder with his ginormous crocodile tears and I took him to his room and lay down with him, chattering all the while, trying to take his mind off of his Enormous Sad. I ended up the speaking voice for Mr. Crabs – a half French, half Spanish accent – and within 5 minutes he had forgotten all about his boat movie disappointment and was cracking up at The Silly. He talked to Tim for a few minutes before nearly passing out from exhaustion.
Last night was a similar scenario. He was still transitioning from his mom’s house, add in the transition from a 2 week break, and the poor boy spent the hours between school and bed just moments away from tears and finally – I don’t even remember what it was – but something tipped him just over the edge. Tim was home and took him to lie down at which point Alex fell asleep almost immediately. The first day back at school wore him out.
I hate that he has to deal with this change every 2 weeks. I hate the enormous disappointment that comes from not being able to expect the same rules and routine in each household he frequents. If all 3 households could work together to have and enforce the same rules, this problem would be lessened, but I think it’s too much to ask 2 sets of parents and 1 set of grandparents to agree on what the rules are and how they will be enforced. I tell myself that on some level the frequent transition is good for him – it keeps him from becoming too much of a homebody keeping the same repetitive routine. But on nights like Sunday and Monday, we want to never let him leave our sight again. We want to form a protective cocoon around him and let him know exactly what he can expect from one moment to the next. He was better tonight. There wasn’t a single tear and he was engaged and playing with Mackenzie and I.
While at my daily de-briefing with his teacher this afternoon, she said that Alex had been experiencing some behaviors (a few tears, slight aggression) but she just thought that it was just a “transition thing” unlike his last teacher, who would have put him in an extended time out, perpetuating the behaviors. We love his new teacher. She is smart and she understands Alex.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
My Favorite Things
…lazy Sunday mornings having coffee with Tim.
…a bookcase full of new possibilities.
…a house de-furred.
…Snoopy.
…smiling. Smiling’s my favorite.
…Joe performing.
…good-hair days.
…margaritas.
…the way Alex signs “I love you.”
…Spring.
…laughing with my sister.
…early morning, before the kids are up.
…Babycat curled up on the back of my chair.
…taking a photo with just the right light.
…a Slinky.
…waking up to find that it’s only 3am and I have several more hours of sleep.
…Mac Paints in Sublime.
…Oatmeal Raisin cookies.
…my amazing Navy Wife sisters. xoxo.
…a new candle.
…how Dillon says, “Hey, Mama!” when he answers my phone call.
…Lucy.
…holding hands.
…watching a fountain.
…Alex smiling.
…Tim’s voice.
…finishing a scarf.
…a sale at The Gap.
…learning new signs.
…a fire in the fireplace.
…new paint colors.
…a sunbeam.
…Mackenzie’s hair.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Mackenzie Turns 15
For 15 years, I’ve been continuously amazed by this wonderful creature. As a baby, she was so stubborn, she wouldn’t let anyone other than me push the grocery cart or her stroller. She walked before 9 months, surprising everyone with her tiny upright body. Her fluffy, cornsilk hair turned into crazy red-brown corkscrews right before my eyes. Then one day, she she started talking, and hasn’t stopped since.
Mackenzie is wise beyond her years and her maturity, at times, puts me to shame. She adapted to a new stepfather and 2 new brothers with amazing grace, and took the initiative to learn American Sign Language to better communicate with Alex. I can always count on her to step in when my patience with him runs low. Her compassion and empathy are impressive (considering how much she doesn’t like babies).
After we moved back Home, Mackenzie quickly made friends and in school, she ranks 19th out of her class of over 500. When she needs homework help, she’s on her own. Mackenzie’s a dedicated athlete, and has to talk me into dragging my butt out of bed to take her to 5:45am practice. This spirit is probably why, as a freshman, she competes on the Varsity Swim Team.
Mackenzie makes me laugh. She is in my head and I in hers. When no one else “gets” us, we “get” each other. Sometimes we just have to look at each other to know what the other’s thinking and it’s all over for the people in our midst. We dissolve into giggles like two best friends at a slumber party. I can always count on her to tell me Which Shoes? or answer me truthfully when I ask, “Do these pants make my butt look big?”
Mackenzie hasn’t decided what she wants to be when she grows up, but has ruled out her baby dreams of being a Mounted Police Officer. Last I heard, it was a toss-up between Sign Language Teacher in a Special Needs Classroom and News Anchor. She’s got a while to decide, and I plan on just sitting back to enjoy the ride.
You all know how I believe in Serendipity. And what a happy accident that I was appointed to be her mother. I know that Mackenzie is destined to grow into a stunning and extraordinary woman, someone we can all be proud of.
Raise your glass to a memorable Past and a wondrous Future.
Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!
Monday, February 08, 2010
The Good, the Bad, and the Alex
Last night was not a good night. Alex started to melt down around 2 in the afternoon and nothing we did could change the terrible path of destruction he was on. Sometimes, there’s a trigger for his meltdowns and we watch and we learn to adapt and eliminate the triggers from his environment. But sometimes, like yesterday, the meltdown is like a fantastic spring storm that you first see on the horizon. You take measures to try to prepare for it and take precautions to minimize the damage, but sometimes no matter what you do, the storm is inevitable. Sometimes it’s too big to try and avert with our meager human ways and all we can do is resort to damage control.
Yesterday, the storm started at 2 and didn’t end until it was knocked back with medication and wrestled to bed just before 7, leaving a swath of destruction and tears and a fair amount of pain in it’s wake.
But today. Today, Alex couldn’t have been more wonderful. He hugged and kissed me when I got home from work, he stopped playing his airplane game without complaint to get in the car and fetch Mackenzie from practice, he sat down to eat with just one no and then moseyed off to the bath after I asked only once.
Then, he signed that he needed to sit to take his shoes off.
He signed “sit!” And I’ve never seen him do that before. We communicated! He told me what he needed, and I was able to help him!
It’s days like today that make the very gray and stormy days fade into the background of our consciousness and allow the Baby Steps that we yearn to see float to the surface and restore our Hope.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Enjoying the Small Things
It’s February in Indiana.
Life outside is dreadfully gray and soggy and a bone-chilling cold. What snow remains on the ground is edged in soot and the shine on our cars is dulled by salt. Everyone’s recovered from the Christmas Rush only to face trudging through the days, Spring Break a mirage on the horizon. For us and for our children, each day blends into the next – a blur of activities, patchwork dinners, homework, alarms that go off too early and buses that come in the dark.
Mackenzie finally finished out her swim season, exhausted but happy to have swam and now she returns to concentrating on her grades which have been somewhat neglected since Christmas.
Joe is knee-deep in Show Choir Competitions, practicing during the week and traveling each weekend, somehow dipping ice cream in between.
Dillon is still loitering around, attending EMT class and trying to find his new niche in life and manage without license nor vehicle.
Alex has had a hard month, be it a reaction to his medication, puberty, or his own form of Cabin Fever that’s causing his erratic behavior. He’s been disagreeable and combative nearly every night in recent memory and it’s exhausting for those who care for him.
Sometimes I find myself wishing time away. Thinking, “If we can just make through the next 4 months then Dillon will get his license back.”
“If we can just get through this year then Joe’s meets and competitions will be off the calendar.”
“If we can just make it through next year, then Mackenzie can drive herself around.”
“If we can just make it through puberty with Alex, then Life can return to peaceful.”
“If we can just get through the next 6 years, then all the kids should all be out of the house and Tim and I can finally settle down.”
And then tonight Dillon came upstairs to talk to me. Mac was downstairs studying, Alex in bed, Joe at school, and Tim at the firehouse. I was sitting alone on the couch, TV off, computer on my lap, red wine within reach, having just been purposefully urinated on by Alex in retaliation for making him bathe. Dillon had clearly come topside to check on me and we chatted for a few minutes before he said, “There’s been a lot of tension in the house lately.” He wasn’t making a judgment, not placing blame, just noting his observation. My immediate response was to apologize and then the phone rang, Tim checking in one last time before bed. Dillon waited until I was off the phone and talked with me a few minutes more, then kissed me and went to bed. I sat there a moment, thinking what a wise and insightful young man he is. Whether or not he meant to, this Man-Child I raised while raising myself reminded me to Enjoy the Small Things.
So before I sleep tonight, I’ll simply Enjoy these Small Things:
- the bottle of water Phyllis brought me today when she heard me say at work that my Peace Lily was thirsty
- new sneakers
- Joe, coming to check on me tonight after hearing about the evening
- writing a post
- the piles of folded laundry on the table (thank you, Dillon!)
- Alex, being a sweetheart at JoAnn’s Fabrics tonight
- Babycat’s meow
- my pants fitting better
- the new treadmill that’s on it’s way
- Mackenzie’s magical ability to calm Alex down during a meltdown
- the fire in the fireplace
- a husband who makes me laugh
- and last but not least, 2 doggies keeping me company on my big empty bed
seven20owen 