it's hard to get used to the time change. getting up in a darker morning - sitting outside in a lighter evening. it will take some getting used to. today jude was almost late for school because i just couldn't get out of the bed- but it was worth it. except for the part where he decided he couldn't get a "tardy" and we had to run the whole way and i hadn't even had coffee yet. yes, it will take some getting used to, as it will to have a kid who cares more than i do about him getting to school on time- so, so different from his sister.
and as i'm walking back home at 8:01, i see another mom leaving the drop off scene. she has her other child with her. they are walking slowly hand in hand. he looks about 7, but is small and has glasses and hearing aides and walks awkwardly, the coordination of movement takes effort. i say "hi" to him and he doesn't respond and i say something about the warm day and the time change and being late to his mom and go on ahead imaging what her day is like. what her days are like with her boy- her years- how she is entwined with him. i thought how hard it must be, and how thankful i am that zoe is so functional and verbal and all the things she is, but a part of me was envious of the 'known-ness' of their situation. i imagined myself with him- walking to school- taking our time- going to physical therapy- knowing that he'd probably be with us forever- and i imagined moving into a place of acceptance - of surrender. (right- as if i know their situation. as if it's ever easy. as if i wouldn't have the same goals and aspirations, the same struggle to do the right thing for my child as i do now).
then i thought about my plans for the day with zoe- how she is scheduled to have a playdate with her friend in the morning and another one with her friend in the afternoon. i thought about how i get stressed out that we won't have time to do her copy work, math, reading- that she can't write a report on three books compared- or a poetry anthology- or a creative writing piece on the eighth voyage of sinbad the sailor- all the things i did when i was her age. i go to these places of wanting her to be typical- expecting her to be - frustrated with myself for not teaching her in a way to get her there. and in that i deny the blessing of who she is- i forget we are on a different path- i don't forgive us that.
it's so typical of me- that extremeness- black or white- high achiever or handicapped license plate- i struggle to walk my middle ground. to live in the gray. to trust myself that a full day of social is for her, school, is for her learning, necessary, essential.
i got my hair cut today. i was talking to the guy about the up-in-the-air-ness about our africa plans. we don't know exactly when we're going, we have little control over it because we need to sell the house and fund raise, and i heard myself say- "but it's all good! it's a good place to be- to live in a place of unknown- to recognize a lack of control- to have to live in a state of limbo- it feels really right for my soul." those words actually came out of my mouth. as i heard them, and i recognized my own voice- i saw that i'm making progress. somewhere inside me, i am moving in that direction, it just hasn't sunk in with zoe.
i'm a slow learner. i need to see it, hear it, feel it, write it- over and over- for change to happen.
it is the season of lent. a season of giving up something to focus more on God- chocolate, alcohol, whatever. tomorrow we're one week in i've been stuck with what i'm going to give up. but i think that is is- i'm going to just 'give up' and focus on God. give up the control - give up the need for things to be pretty- give up the expectations- give up the absurd idea of reaching consistency in her days- and focus more on what God has given her, and me, and our family. focus on trusting His plan for things- and my little role in that- self de-flation.
now it's very late and dark and tomorrow will be hard to open my eyes to. i will give up and sleep- good night.
and as i'm walking back home at 8:01, i see another mom leaving the drop off scene. she has her other child with her. they are walking slowly hand in hand. he looks about 7, but is small and has glasses and hearing aides and walks awkwardly, the coordination of movement takes effort. i say "hi" to him and he doesn't respond and i say something about the warm day and the time change and being late to his mom and go on ahead imaging what her day is like. what her days are like with her boy- her years- how she is entwined with him. i thought how hard it must be, and how thankful i am that zoe is so functional and verbal and all the things she is, but a part of me was envious of the 'known-ness' of their situation. i imagined myself with him- walking to school- taking our time- going to physical therapy- knowing that he'd probably be with us forever- and i imagined moving into a place of acceptance - of surrender. (right- as if i know their situation. as if it's ever easy. as if i wouldn't have the same goals and aspirations, the same struggle to do the right thing for my child as i do now).
then i thought about my plans for the day with zoe- how she is scheduled to have a playdate with her friend in the morning and another one with her friend in the afternoon. i thought about how i get stressed out that we won't have time to do her copy work, math, reading- that she can't write a report on three books compared- or a poetry anthology- or a creative writing piece on the eighth voyage of sinbad the sailor- all the things i did when i was her age. i go to these places of wanting her to be typical- expecting her to be - frustrated with myself for not teaching her in a way to get her there. and in that i deny the blessing of who she is- i forget we are on a different path- i don't forgive us that.
it's so typical of me- that extremeness- black or white- high achiever or handicapped license plate- i struggle to walk my middle ground. to live in the gray. to trust myself that a full day of social is for her, school, is for her learning, necessary, essential.
i got my hair cut today. i was talking to the guy about the up-in-the-air-ness about our africa plans. we don't know exactly when we're going, we have little control over it because we need to sell the house and fund raise, and i heard myself say- "but it's all good! it's a good place to be- to live in a place of unknown- to recognize a lack of control- to have to live in a state of limbo- it feels really right for my soul." those words actually came out of my mouth. as i heard them, and i recognized my own voice- i saw that i'm making progress. somewhere inside me, i am moving in that direction, it just hasn't sunk in with zoe.
i'm a slow learner. i need to see it, hear it, feel it, write it- over and over- for change to happen.
it is the season of lent. a season of giving up something to focus more on God- chocolate, alcohol, whatever. tomorrow we're one week in i've been stuck with what i'm going to give up. but i think that is is- i'm going to just 'give up' and focus on God. give up the control - give up the need for things to be pretty- give up the expectations- give up the absurd idea of reaching consistency in her days- and focus more on what God has given her, and me, and our family. focus on trusting His plan for things- and my little role in that- self de-flation.
now it's very late and dark and tomorrow will be hard to open my eyes to. i will give up and sleep- good night.
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