Sammy the Builder. Notice my sister's eye peeking out from behind his head? Yeah. WOULD NOT DO THE PRESSBOARD CUT OUTS, my son. My sister finally talked him into it, but then he performed the death grip on her!
*I wish I had a dimmer switch for my dreams. Always way too vivid that I have to take a few minutes reorienting myself in the morning.
*Sammy's favorite word is apparently. I kid you not.
*Yesterday was a good mommy day. 5 rounds of Go Fish, tutorial on tissue ghosts, caramel vanilla apple crumble (oh, wait...that goes on the good wife list!), lots of practice reading of those mind numbing learning to read books. I'm beginning to really have a chip on my shoulder concerning Mit and Mat.
*We taught Sammy how to take his own shower this summer in anticipation for school. He fought it at first. Hated them and it was really tough to get him to accept this new normal. Now? Well, now he loves his showers. A little too much. A little like his mama. We have to drag him out every time. When asked what he's been doing in there, his answer usually is "I was just in here dancing under the water". Sigh...
*Sammy went on his first field trip last Monday, complete with bus ride. He got to see a tarantula. He had a great time. He's completely thriving in school.
*I'm in the early stages of planning a girls weekend in New York for sometime in the spring. I'm ridiculously excited. Isaac is sad I'll be in New York without him. I'm thinking we should try to go for our anniversary...
*It was 26* yesterday morning when I went to the store. It made me happy. And I plan on holding on to that until January, when we all know it goes to pot.
Isaac fell ill last Thursday. Just over a day of ickiness. I had it on Sunday. Giant bricks in my lungs, but not much else. By Monday I was feeling better, started doing better and went about my normal routine. By mid afternoon, I started feeling horrible. Bricks back, hot flashes, feeling light headed and about to puke. It was yucky. And prompted the existence of the puke bowl by my bed all night. Yesterday I was better, but felt off all day - on and off. This is the worst kind of ickiness. The kind with no real sickness, no real definition. It's casting a pallor over everything and I kind of hate it.
But the one thing I kind of love about it, though? Oatmeal for dinner. Snuggling with Sammy. Caramel vanilla steamers. General slowing and unplugging. I don't know what to wish for: more malaise or health.
I had an entire post planned. One full of complaining about our latest Sammy trauma - we're trying to encourage him to pick a different friend than the one he's decided to latch on to, especially since I believe it's beginning to alter his behavior and how stinking difficult it is to help navigate this situation when I'm not there to BE IN CONTROL and how it's resulted in a lot of time outs and crying and "I'm mad at Mommy"s. But then. Well, then. I watched Beautiful Boy. And, while not a stellar movie, it hurt me. And every thing I had to say, every frustration and all of the anger, seemed...I don't know. Pointless, somehow. For now.
The movie is about a family - mom, dad and only child named Sammy (are you with me?). The son has just left for college and is clearly depressed. The parents are contemplating divorce. The next day there is a mass shooting at the college and the parents find out that not only is their child dead, he was the shooter. The rest of the movie is the immediate time right after and the fall out from their son's actions. While the movie could have dug deeper; been more, the fact that their only child's name was Sammy cut me off at the knees. I had such a difficult time focusing on our recent happenings and not putting myself...THERE. Am I doing enough. Am I raising him properly. Am I screwing him up. Is he happy enough. Is he social enough. Is he going to be able to navigate these waters ok.
I push. I pull. I invade. I question. I pace. I'm THERE. Every step. We talk incessantly, in this family. We explore feelings and explain and bring him into conversations. We are happy and mad and focused and crazy and in the end...is that enough to ensure he'll be ok? Is there EVER a way to know? Will he read my writings someday and wonder about himself - if he was truly wanted and loved - or wonder about me as a mother and my failings.
We're having difficulties right now. He's being influenced by people that were not carefully pre-screened by us and there is nothing we can do but hope our teaching and guiding and counsel is enough. Before, when there were outside influences that we didn't want him to be around, we declined invitations. We ignored offers. We chose not to place our child in situations we determined less than what we wanted. But now he's fallen into this friendship that isn't the greatest and while only 5, I want to nip it now, while it's easier. I attest that I have to give up a little control and it's making my parenting erratic. Over compensating and harsh all at once.
I hate that you can't see the ending, the product, of child rearing. It would be nice to just know you were doing ok and you won't be that parent missing the signs so very dramatically.
My mother has a running list of things we will someday inherit. My list includes pie plates of both my mom and grandma, a white (with red and orange) pyrex bowl, her manual wheat grinder, some odds and ends and her cedar chest. It was THIS cedar chest that was featured in a dream of mine the other night. Behold an email exchange between mom and me the next day:
ME: I had a dream about your / my cedar chest last night. It was odd. MOM: What was odd about it ? ME: Mostly that it was alive. MOM: Well I haven't noticed it dancing or anything. ME: It mostly lumbered slowly around my house. I THOUGHT I would put it in my bedroom when I got it, but am rethinking it now! ;) MOM: Maybe by the front door, so it can get out easy...
Ha! Yes, indeed. People wonder where some of us get out dry humor and sarcasm. I give you...my mom.
