to my son
October 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
There are many moments over which my heart dwells. Tonight I pause to imagine a new future for you. We are in a strange place of transition. So much of what I have endeavored to do has been inspired by hope and good intentions, books and the advice of doctors. Tonight I spoke with a mother who shares my dreams and who’s children share your days. It is a new chapter in our journey together and I am so excited for the days ahead. Sleep tight, tomorrow is a new beginning. Love, Mom
measure of time
September 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
Big brown eyes brimming with wonder, my son is fascinated by the immeasurable quality of time. His first insight came over a year ago when he uttered casually: I wish there were a way to recycle wasted time. I immediately captured his words on paper and frequently re-read his sentiment marveling at the purity of his wish.
This summer, as the school year approached, he revisited the subject of time feeling overwhelmed by the dwindling days of summer vacation. Mournful and mindful of each day leading up to the first day of school, he was reflective and sensitive. He would passionately proclaim the imbalance of time’s measurement, convinced that time passes too quickly functioning outside the boundaries marked by the simple hands of man-made clocks.
Last night, he came to me long gangly legs awkwardly tumbling down the stairs, a face marked by discovery and a voice hushed with the awe of awareness and said: Mom, I figured out the true meaning of happiness in life. You can wish all you want for your birthday and Christmas, but you shouldn’t. Time will slip away through your fingers, but you won’t realize it. The true meaning of happiness is to enjoy each and every day.
Again, I felt the need to capture a singular moment in time, my fingers rushing desperately across my keyboard attempting to catch his words in proper sequence. This child that came to me as an unexpected gift, a happy surprise, has marked the passing of years with an awareness and wisdom that inspires me to embrace each moment.
to my son
August 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
Last night, before going to bed, you paused on the landing of the stairs and said you made a new friend at school. Enumerating on your new friend’s intelligence and kindness, you said you felt lucky. I feel lucky too.
When you were little you would introduce yourself to others, children and adults, with a sweetly naive promise to be their new best friend. It was the verbalization of your toddler self waddling onto adult’s laps or holding other children’s hands; loving openly and completely.
There came a moment in Kindergarten when you began hiding from peers. Moments of disappointment or rejection among classmates caused you to guard your feelings more closely. You maintained a couple of close friends, children that would stand beside you through thick and thin, but you stopped reaching out to new children for friendship.
The more you closed yourself off, the more I missed the little boy with the open heart. I waited, sometimes beside you and other times in the background, hoping a day would come when you would open up and let down your guard.
Last night, listening to you extol the virtues of your new friend I gave thanks that your vast heart could still open up and welcome someone new. Your new friend is lucky to have you, too.
Love,
Mom
darcy & jo
August 20, 2011 § 1 Comment
My childhood was filled with books; the pages of well-loved stories scattered across summers and tucked inside stolen moments. In trying to lend my children aliases in this space, I am borrowing names of childhood friends among the pages of my past.
From an early age my son has walked confidently on a path of his own choosing. He is eloquent, gifted in the art of language beyond his years, and sentimental with Victorian mannerisms. His dimpled smile, innocent of its charm, lends humor to his otherwise serious disposition. I watch my Mr. Darcy with Pride, but then as his mother I am entirely Prejudice.
My daughter Jo is a leader of Little Women. Having an older brother she is eager to be his equal, unrestrained by lady-like expectations. Her heart is as large as her dreams, and she guards them both behind spirited bravado. Mindful of our expectations as her parents, she endeavors to perform expected tasks committed by a sense of responsibility born of love. Headstrong and devoted she is passionately loyal.
Similarities aside, my children’s personalities extend beyond the margins of my childhood companions; they are complicated characters, my Darcy and Jo.
between the lines
July 5, 2011 § Leave a comment
I set the book aside, knowingly. Days passed and I would greet the title with each dawn, waiting for the right moment to begin. On a cloudless day, beneath a brilliant blue sky, I sat in the shade of my backyard and slowly welcomed old memories between the lines of another’s words. With a lump in my throat and a full heart, I read The Anti-Romantic Child: A Story of Unexpected Joy by Priscilla Gilman.
Our lives have different beginnings, but our stories are hauntingly familiar. We meet in a place of beauty; kindred spirits bound by grace born of love for our children. Two mothers searching for and finding joy in our children’s extraordinary gifts and challenges.
My son, my first-born, was my homecoming. The first time our eyes met my speech failed, but my heart opened in an awakening. Large brown eyes, sage and serene, mirrored my own. Long, thin fingers wrapped around mine and centered me in a place of peace. I fell into contentment.
There were no other children to contrast my son’s development and I was blissfully unaware of heartaches and struggles looming in the shadows of our future. We toiled away hours, days, months, and years oblivious to red flags that would later signal an otherness. Endearing traits would later become cause for concern.
One doctor, with little more than an unsettled feeling, refered us to a child psychiatrist that would see what we had not. Diagnoses and abstract initials hovered heavy, stealing the air from the room as we began to understand our son in a new language. With love and hope we have found our way amidst the endless unknown determined to embrace our son for the special soul that he is.
Between the lines of a stranger’s story I have found strength and inspiration; a celebration for the unique spirits that accompany us on our journey through motherhood.
Please note: This post is my effort to capture my initial feelings as I read this very special book. I consciously did not reference the author’s words but rather my emotional connection to the experience of reading them.
fireworks and forgiveness
July 3, 2011 § 1 Comment
A neighborhood 4th of July party gave me lazy, happy hours among friends and a moment of raw awareness with my son. My guard down, I had settled into the festivities when my eye caught my son’s face. Angry, emotional sparks snapped at the air around him. I drew him to me and guided him to a quiet corner of our guests’ home. Slowly I acknowledge new, painful truths for my son and myself. He isn’t okay and neither am I.
In angry accusing tones my son lashed out at peers for perceived unkindness and at me for not defending him. In fairness to the children, his anger was not born of their behavior. In fairness to my son, I could not give him the fierce defense he sought. We sat, side by side, separated by equal parts pain and grief.
The moment passed and we parted, each resigned to our own hurt. My son withdrew into a space of his own and I let my own frustrations spill in a wave of need to a friend, her compassion allowing me a cleansing release. The remainder of the evening passed without fireworks, but forgiveness for things we cannot control weighs heavy on my heart.
complicated
April 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
My son and I were sitting together, absorbing a quiet moment, when breaking the silence he looked at me and said, “I’m complicated.” Then, without pause he smiled a lopsided grin, dimples and all, reminding me of our early days together when he was a newborn. From the beginning, he was a quiet spirit with large, brown eyes that seemed wise and joyful with long, gangly limbs that dangled at endearingly, lazy angles. We have grown together, he has been a constant companion as I have journeyed through Motherhood. Patient with my fumbles and forgiving of my faults, I look at him with pride for who he is and gratitude that he is a part of my every day. For me, it isn’t complicated at all.
standoff
March 7, 2011 § Leave a comment
Big brown eyes gauge me and I am aware my boundaries are being measured against his will. Curious and tireless my son pushes against rules and expectations like a body pushing against the current, limbs heavy with resistance. I marvel at his focus and commitment to concepts held tightly in his mind. Determined to find his own truths and undeterred by others’ dismissal he stands firmly in a space of possibility.
scribblechic 