provisions

it was a day.

beautiful sun, a breeze, not to hot- the kind of day you're so glad you're alive.

it was a day of growth.

of the pendulum swinging and ending up in the right place. a day of grace. a day when i went to my dark place of abandon and then returned- stronger for it.

things were good until about noon.

we'd been at the pool for an hour or so- zoe had made a new friend named zoe who was learning how to swim. she patiently taught her- and gave her confidence and encouragement and the little girl did it. everyone was so happy and they swam around the pool together. it was good, perhaps too good. finally the boys were hungry and tired, but zoe decided she wanted to do a cannon ball. i don't even know what exactly she meant but i knew she'd never done it before and that by the sound of her voice, we were doomed. she was hovering over the side of the pool, toes curled in anxiety, flapping both wrists, as subtly as she could, and doing the self talk thing- "ok- you can do it, just move to the edge..." then flipping into the panicked "mom- am i going to hurt myself?" follow with "don't tell me - i KNOW what i'm doing!". i tried for about 15 minutes to 'help' with out helping. to be supportive and appear carefree, while i'm walking on eggshells- because she was beginning to unravel. calmly i told her that in fact we needed to go and that she was moving quickly into that place where she didn't want to be. that made her mad- and gave her something to channel all that negative energy into- me. she began to cry loudly and expressively that she was always the only one who can't do things. that she feels so badly that she can't do a cannon ball, that she NEEDS to do one now. that we CAN'T leave. that she WON'T leave. and the scene began..... her little brothers sensing the tension, obediently get out of the pool and get their shoes and towels.....people stare as her voice escalates and her frustration grows.... i long for my "she has a mild form of autism " sign, and acutely feel that pull between anger and pity and sorrow and the fear that this will get progressively worse. her little friend the new swimmer and her mother look puzzled and slightly anxious as well. and i'm hating it for her. for her overwhelm and her challenge. for not being able to get it together and just let it go. for the boys who are stuck with having "that kid" as their big sister. that kid who has fallen to bits.

and i want to cry because i've gone back to last summer, when i couldn't go to the pool with out this happening, and i've gone forward to tomorrow night when we're meeting people for dinner at the pool and i'm fearing this cannonball obsession all over again- and i'm exhausted by all of it, and thinking why me-poor me-poor, poor me.

the problem is, it becomes timeless. one 'little' incident, has histories and futures woven into it.

on the way to the car- i resolved that i couldn't do this anymore. that i needed to go back to work. that she needed to go to school- any school- maybe boarding school- in another country. i decided that i am no longer the man for the job. that i was already going to need years of therapy- and that even then- i may never recover. in my heart i yelled at God. i shook my fists. why is this so blinking hard!!! when will this ever end????

i was deflated, defeated and depressed. i put on my sunglasses and cried on the way home. zoe asked if this was because of her non-verbal learning disability. jude replied, yes- that is why you get sticky thoughts (the 5 year old therapist)- followed by saying, "and i have a yes-verbal learning disability" (the opposite of her) at which point i had to laugh. but i was too busy making my mental "i hate list" followed by my "i'm thankful list" which was much shorter, and i realized i had work to do.

when we got home and had lunch and the boys went to nap and zoe went to read- i got down to business- to what i do best- solve the problem. the left brain went into high gear and i got on line. i found every special ed school in the atlanta area and made lists, looked at websites, and made calls. i made an excel spread sheet and calculated the cost of school and what i'd earn going back to work. i felt productive- i felt hopeful- i felt in control- the opposite of how i felt at the pool.

so i ran upstairs to zoe and put it on her.

"zoe, do you want to be home schooled?"

desperately wanting, in that moment for her to say "no! thank God you finally asked. i want to be with other kids and teacher who's not nutballs!"

but i got, "mom, i'm reading!"

i thought about calling mike - sharing my data collection with him- venting about the pool/cannon ball episode- surely he'd see the light.

then i realized that i needed to just be still.

that acting or reacting out of fear is always the wrong choice. that much of my life i rush and re-act, i get pushed to a point and make a move out of fear or i put it on others to reign me in- usually mike. usually i make him do my dirty work. present him with my angst, and my hairball plan to get rid of it- and let him be the calm voice of reason. which sets up the dynamic of him as my saving grace and me as the wild overwhelmed scatterbrain.

but not today.

today, i reigned it in.

today, i was able to sit with it, alone. and in the stillness, i found what i was looking for. the answer was already there. the decision was made- by me. i am going to home school again next year- as scared as i am- because i love her, and we're not done.

"Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away, all the same, knowing she has wings."
victor hugo