e and I had our worst day yet. He was mad at me. I was mad at him. He screamed. We both cried. Naps were a bust. It was just really really bad. Can’t say why. I can say I shouldn’t have been frustrated or angry or mad. This kid is clearly going through a lot and has so many huge feelings and is such a small small person and I should have held his hand and gave him a hug and helped him work through them instead of having to take a time out of my own. I shouldn’t have taken it personally, because it wasn’t personal. I have so so much to learn. I have so much growing to do myself.
Category Archives: salt
day 150: the position has been filled
day 147: A makes a friend
A’s schedule is early. He wakes up at 0330 to workout at 0400, and then coaches at 0515 and 0600 before going into regular suit and tie work. He now has a regular morning crew, working out with him early and then doing the later classes too. He’s so happy and it’s so so great.
And the salt of the day: Fatal Distraction..
I can’t stop crying.
days 132 – 145: what I remember
Hankster finished his eagle-scout project! (In one day!) We’ve been talking about it since he was 8.
I always give bean the spoons while I’m unloading the dishwasher. He takes them out of the utensil cage and puts them back in, takes them out and puts them back in, takes them out and throws them on the floor. Finished with the dishes, I pulled out some blueberries from the fridge and placed them in a small bowl for him. He looked at the bowl, looked around, looked at the bowl again, looked up at me for a while, the finally, gingerly, picked up a large spoon that was still on the floor and began to the painstaking process of trying to spoon the blueberries one by one. He usually eats blueberries with his fingers, but this was the first time he had a bowl of blueberries (I usually give them to him one by one) and the bowl must have signaled the necessity of a spoon. Not being provided one (he has a very special spoon) he did what he could with what he had available to him. With him, smiles are so easy.
On our anniversary, I was reading in bed next to A and right before he drifted off, (in truth I thought he was already gone,) he kissed me on my elbow.
For the first time in his life, bean let me put him down in the middle of his nap. I stayed with him, but I did things I normally can’t do when I’ve wrapped him or he’s sleeping on me: reading and taking notes, knitting, not sweating…
Bean has a new tooth coming in.
On Memorial Day, A and I did Murph: 1 mile run, 100 pull-ups (ring rows for me), 200 push ups, 300 squats, and another 1 mile run. We did it an hour apart, but we both finished in 40 minutes and change. Two best parts: first, remembering the soldiers, the sailors, the marines, the coast guard, and the airmen who died for us, for our freedom, for lives which are worth living. Second, remembering the first time I attempted this workout with A, doing it completely wrong (100 of each movement vice the rep scheme shown above,) taking over an hour to do so, and thinking there was no way I’d ever be able to do anything even close. That was three years ago. A came up to me afterward and told me what a great job I did and we smiled at how far we’ve come, and how far we have to go. I’ve never felt connected to A at the gym; he’s so personable and so friendly and so outgoing, plus a coach, we always go our separate ways. That moment we had, where he came up to me and smiled at me and spoke with me, I finally felt like I was wanted. I finally felt like I belonged.
We saw a butterfly. bean was on my back and boom was being stubborn and a butterfly flew up from the flowers and all around us before she went on her merry way. bean tracked her flight while she was in sight, a smile of wonder on his sweet face.
day 130: I’m just not sure what happened
I know A coached at the police station, he always coaches at the police station on Wednesdays, but I’m not sure of much else. Those moments through the day, gone.
But I’m pretty sure I lived them and I’m glad for that.
day 125: cooks in the kitchen
Friday rolled around and I certainly wished there were some cooked in the kitchen. A cook, a baker, and a pastry chef would have been money. Alas, there was only me (and A, but I was far too stubborn to accept help!)
The first batch of cupcakes were awful. The frosting was a success, but too sweet for e. The smash cake was so hard it was unshmashable, and the prospect of the gathering of the two families together was giving me nightmares.
Fun was interspersed, as it always is: we strolled through Del Ray Variety and ordered red balloons and blue balloons, and we stopped by Swing’s for some sustenance. We held hands as we held bean, and it was all perfectly fine.
day 122: stats
It’s clear, dear reader, that my resolution to return to writing every day is long gone and failing, but I am making a last ditch effort to recall the frenzy of sameness and the lazy activity that blundered through these past ten days.
First, in those days after bean turned the great big “one,” we measured and weighed and tested him all in a cold germs room called the pediatrician’s office. He is growing tall and weighs one pound more than he did eight weeks ago. His head continues to fall in the 97th percentile. Though he is not yet walking (it seems most of his peers are!) his pincer skills are impressive, and he successfully placed the block in the cup.
We escaped unpinched and unpricked. A is unconvinced and I am un-fooled.
day 107: hangover
So, I never did get to writing about the late night I had on Saturday. It was a late, late night. But it wasn’t due to drinking, that’s for sure. However, the activity in question was on the level of excessive imbibing: that is, low. I stayed up all night reading a murder mystery that left me frightened, dirty, jumping at ghosts and looking sideways at everyone I passed.
Moreover, it left me in a crabby mood for Sunday. I completely forgot about my brother’s ceremony. I was not the best of company for A, when he took me out on a wonderful belated birthday date, and poor e had to deal with a half-asleep mother.
Ahh well, they pulled my weight and it all made for a great day anyways. In addition to said date, we listened to my little brother play sax like Kenny G himself, we cooked a bit, and we had delicious coffee.
So, despite my horror story hangover, Sunday really was a wonderful day.
day 102: grown
On this last day before the sun marks me one year older, my life was full of love. With noble intentions, I turned it to tears.
I wanted so badly to finish the cuff of bean’s diaper cover so I could try it on him. So, we stayed up, and stayed up, and stayed up, until it was 1850, an hour and a half past our normal bedtime routine. Bean was rubbing his eyes red and was so so so very tired. Still I stitched, stress growing by the moment and radiating to the two littles who waited on me in clear exhaustion.
And for what? There was no need to finish the cover. We won’t be able to use it until I purchase the lanolin anyways. I just had my stubborn pride telling me to finish! And I succumbed to it. There was really no need.
Reading this now, it all sounds so silly: both the fact that I messed up and the fact that I feel so very terribly about it.
What am I missing? What’s the secret?
day 96: winter leanings
We had big plans to spend another day outdoors but spring decided to lean back to winter, so our excursions were limited to brisk walks. Still, we enjoyed the sun room and the blocks and boomer’s protests at the people walking by our windows.
It was an ordinary day. Nothing of note; except that on those kinds of days, everything is: the way the sun patterns ‘cross the dusty floor, bean’s gaze of concentration, a tiny paw peaking out from a blanket strewn over a napping pup. That feeling of relief and love as the door opens to welcome home the man who makes this life possible.
It is from these perfectly ordinary days that poetry is born. The question is: will I find it? Or do I yearn only for those cheap adventure novels?
No, no. I am content in my verse.
dawn points 