smile

i'm waiting for the bug guy to come. i've been given the slot between 2-4pm. this sums up how i feel about my life today.  waiting for other people. waiting for brownies to bake.  waiting for the mail to come.  accomplishing mundane tasks.  today life feels like buying socks.  spending money on things you don't care about- but need. it's also the day before the boys go back to school.  it's the big version of what we called growing up, "the sunday afternoon feeling".  that mildly depressing feeling that grows over the afternoon and evening when you know the weekend is over and work and school are about to start up again. and they are acting like it- that totally obnoxious behavior that is probably a subconscious way to help avoid the challenge of returning to real life after vacation.  tomorrow they can say 'school is way better than being around mom who yelled at me all day'.  and yes- i have been yelling, and not laughing.  doohhh. it's only january 4th! the worst part is, i'm not even trying.  but i will try to change the trying part.

to add to the crazy i've had 2 other kids over and bryn has stopped napping.  so i sent jude and his friend to the friends house down the street - so now it's just lily and zoe and bryn- playing the wii.  and while this brings some quiet to the house, i can now hear much of the conversation between zoe and lily- which makes me crazy in  a different way. in a sort of sad way.

when i have zoe alone, or with her brothers, she is just zoe- in all her glory and all her challenge- but she is zoe out of context.  zoe timeless and ageless.  when she is with lily, she has bookends.  there is comparison.  and all the progress i reported yesterday is buried beneath the glaring difference between her and her neuro-typical friend.  i see what it would be like to have a typical 11 year old- who make their own pot stickers for lunch, and can go down the street to buy something you forgot at the market, who can explain the rules of a new game, who doesn't hit someone when she loses the game, who doesn't sit and talk to her little toy dog over and over again.  who has a mature conversations with adults.

but the hardest part is not hearing them laugh and tell secrets and make memories together- not sharing in the joy that i had growing up with lily's mom.

i have a vivid imagination and an excellent ability to recall old memories and live in them for a while.   this of course gets in the way of being present.  of living in the now.  of laughing with your kids. and this escapism steps in when what's around me seems painful, or consuming, or overwhelming.  so today part of me was in florence italy sitting on the steps of an old church focusing only the fountain in the courtyard that i'm trying to draw; then paris, walking on a bridge and looking out over the river- not doing anything, then addis ababa having a uninterrupted cup of coffee and a pastry, reading my favorite book beside the pool.

ok- i'm back.  to go and try.

there is an old man in our neighborhood, john.  almost every day he walks slowly up and down the street for exercise and whenever we see him coming we go out and talk with him.  he told us a story once about when he was in the hospital last year.  he'd hurt his back, maybe broken something, and it was taking a while for him to recover.  he decided that the best thing he could do to help himself get better was to laugh.  so every morning for  a week, when he thought no one was looking or listening, he'd sit on the edge of his bed and laugh out loud for about 5 minutes.  in the beginning he'd have to force himself to think of something funny- but then it would get easier and easier.  over that week he began to get better- to move more, to get out of bed, to have less pain, to feel better.  the doctors kept commenting on how he'd had this amazing turn in his recovery- he says he just chuckled to himself- knowing the secret was enlivening his joy- finding the humor- choosing to smile.

and now i'm smiling again.