I’ve been in a real funk as of late. I’ve been blaming “other people” and judging things and just really moving through a dark phase. So when Michael couldn’t handle going on a field trip this morning and cried loudly in the lobby, where all the other kids were unpacking, I was quite surprised, as you might imagine, that I felt joyful. I hadn’t felt joyful in quite awhile. Here my son was crying as I was trying to explain to the teacher that he couldn’t go in a circle unless she planned to retrace the circle for the field trip (walk around our city area and see the historic sights). There was no plan to retrace the circle which was beyond me . . . . That’s a Michael 101 basic. So I said it wasn’t going to work out and Michael would be with me for the day. No worries for anyone. Michael got in the car, calmed down, and when we got to our first stop, he looked up at me and said, “Mommy, I love you so much.” It was a statement that said, “Thank you for not making me try to handle that feat of nonsymmetry.” Which, he truly could not have handled, even on the heaviest dose of a sedative. It just wouldn’t happen.
He had to come to work with me (wonderfully flexible job on Tuesdays, so all good there). He did my photo errand with me. We had a nice lunch together at home. He went back to work with me. And then we went to walk on the local greenway. It was here that I fell in love again with my son. I’m not sure what it was—the nature, the protectiveness of saving him this morning, the unpressured timing of the day, the alone time we had together, or something else I could never imagine or see. I watched him find a big walking stick. I listened to him laugh as it broke on the second plunge into the ground. I helped him break the next set of walking sticks; he got one for me, too, this time. I saw him learn how to move to his right and lift his 2.5-times-as-tall-as-him-stick so as not to trip passing bikers. I savored the skip in his step that I haven’t seen in quite awhile. He told me he loved me probably five or six times today. And I could fully feel every bit of it. And I felt it for him too.
This life is chronic. And that includes the love and joy and Mama Bear protectiveness that is so ubiquitous.