Liam fell asleep on my lap tonight during downstairs snack/story time, our nightly wind down before wash up, teeth, PJs, upstairs story and bed.
He had a changeable day. Started off even; went way south when the babysitter arrived at 8:30 and I went upstairs to work (deep sobbing; had to be pried off me), stuck there for a while. But by 11:00, after checking in with me for a try at the potty, he was even again, "I love you Mommy --sniff-- see you in an hour." As good as it ever gets.
He has been struggling so hard lately; I see the worry, I see the fear, I see him trying and then getting lost. And when you ask him, after a while, he usually can tell you: I'm afraid mommy will never come back; I'm afraid mommy will die; I'm afraid I will die.
He is trying so mightily to be toilet trained so he can go to preschool; but, is so concerned about the change. In the very quiet voice "Mommy--it is a new school, I might cry; What if I cry?" Leaving aside that he still cries every single day when I leave him at the "school" where he's been going for over two years. Regressing. Calling me mama again for the first time in over a year.
He will come out of it, of course. He is learning various tricks to use when his mind and body start to run away from him; just little things he can say in his head to push pause, help him regroup. And he is getting good at it; buying in. ("Mommy--I was mistaken, I thought I was too sad to use my trick today, but then I tried and it worked; Mommy? it worked.") He is so exhausted.
I am that person. The one he cries, not to leave. The one he clings to. The one who, when I sit still enough, lets him know it is safe to fall asleep.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
You have to dry them with the hairdryer or else you cannot go on the steam train excursion planned for later in the morning. (Thank you GoGo! He had a great time.)
Liam was pretending that things were fireworks this morning and throwing them around; I said, please take that outside, fireworks are not for inside. And, before I knew it, the kiddy pool was full of plastic animals and shoes. Liam does not have a lot of pairs of shoes, and really only one that are closed. We haven't found any sneakers he likes; these little Land's End shoes are his favorite, so when they got wet, he had to fix the problem.
Shoes in the pool. I haven no idea what he was thinking.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
There are still some things in the closet that I haven't worn since Will died;I brought one out yesterday. This keeping track, I guess, is one of my ways of remembering. The day (finally) I changed the sheets on Will's bed. The day I (finally) washed the last tee-shirt that smelled exactly like he used to smell. The last time we cooked outside, ate ravioli, picked blueberries, ran through the sprinkler, drove this way in the car, I'll think, Will was alive.
The driving ambushes me the worst; there have been times, usually on longer drives when I'm by myself, that I'll just stop the car and pull to the side of the road and tear and stare and concentrate on breathing and wonder: how did I do all that; how can we go on. Watch the sky.
It is his birthday this weekend. He would have been 43. Same as me in December.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Summer, or what we're going to get of it this year. Sun some days. The garden. Very busy at work. Trying to get Liam out more to practice being with other children. (He is doing better at this; he did eventually try out this fountain and loved it.) Potty training (for Liam), he must learn by fall, it's required for his new school.
Family visits and more to come, which we are looking forward to.
One successful canning project (strawberry jam) complete; a second total failure (apricot butter which failed to set and is good for nothing but pancake syrup for people who really like apricots) also done.
I'm back from a lovely weekend away, still feeling the calm of about 48 hours of no "Mommy!, Mommy!, Mommy!" (Thanks Mom and Dave.) And on Tuesday I am invited to go rowing, and have said "yes" for the first time in about 5 years. And I'm looking forward to it.