first day blues

I had a feeling today—the first day back at school—might be a bit difficult. You and I have been spending so much time together, especially since we became official members of the MOMS club. You were in new territory… upstairs in the Cardinals’ class with new teachers and classmates. And I had no intermediary buffer, as your dad had an early meeting this morning. You cried and held on tightly to me, pleading with me to stay with you. After several attempts to calm and reassure you, I left you crying, clinging to Ms. Boo, as “circle time” started. I cried as I left as well. You’re my baby, only you’re not a baby anymore. You’re taller, thinner, less dimply and baby-fatty and more boy-like. I think it’s perfectly okay for us to mourn that every once in a while.

I called to check on you, and minutes after I’d left you, you were fine-participating and fully engaged. Such a trooper!

incongruent

You woke up slightly early and in a foul mood this morning. Within the span of about six minutes, you’d slapped me twice and slammed my phone into your dad’s forehead. By 7:12, I’d spent eleven minutes of my day in your presence and wanted nothing more to do with you. With no idea of what else to do, I took you downstairs and put you back in your bed… in the hopes of resetting the day. You settled down and lay there quietly for another 45 more minutes.

We went to see Coal Train Railroad at the downtown library. As soon as we found a spot on the floor, you began to insist we go check out books. When we went to look for books, you whined for a computer. It took two trips to the bathroom within the span of two minutes to eek some pee out of you.

It was simply one of those days. Incongruent. Frustrating.

The highlight of this off-day was your train of stones; you lined them up intently and contentedly—a rare moment of peaceful play in our day.

moody

A strange pause in playtime for a pouty hug with Tchoupi…

and please help momma

Wednesday proved to be a really long day. We made another trip to Dr. O’Brien’s office, because you were still running a slight fever, still breaking out in this mysterious, moving rash, had developed a new right leg limp and complained of your tongue hurting. I had no certainty that the diagnosed ear infection was viral, and I was feeling I’d made a poor choice in waiting to give you the antibiotics. I was concerned your tongue pain was a less-than-specific complaint of strep throat. I was worn out from seeing you hurting, hard-of-hearing and cranky. Daddy and I were also a little worried (maybe preemptively self-conscious is a more accurate description of what we were feeling) that the combination of strange symptoms might all come together to form a rare occurrence of polio or some other less-often-diagnosed-these-days childhood disease. A momma’s mind runs in all sorts of crazy directions when her baby bug is hurting.

Anyway, after a long week already, and it was ONLY Wednesday, I started crying while we were saying our dinner blessings. I finished, and without hesitation, you added, “And please help Momma feel better.”

And right away I did, you sweet-souled young’un o’ mine.

Even feeling puny, you goof off in Dr. O’s office by eating holes in your fruit leather and sticking it on your head.

sweet dreams

When I went in to get you this morning, I asked if you had a good rest and if you had good dreams. I’m trying to introduce the idea that your mind and imagination might continue to work while you sleep, but it’s an advanced concept that’s a little less than concrete and perhaps a ways away from your true understanding just now.

I proceeded with my line of questioning anyway: “What did you dream about?”

Your answer: “Uhmmm… you.”

Oh, my sweet charmer-boy, you do know how to melt me, and I’ve no doubt you know more than you’re letting on about many things…