Now your shirt looks like your heart feels...

JB did a ten minute, "NO, MOMMY... DON'T GO... PLEASE... NO...ONE MORE MINUTE... PLEASE, ONE MORE KISS..." hysterical dance at day care drop off this AM, complete with sputtering, stammering, real tears and copious facial mucus.

Extracting myself was somewhat...

Heartbreaking.

He loves his new school and his teachers...
(SIDEBAR: Oooo... remind me to tell you what happened at his old school)
And we have a standard drop off routine that is generally tear free...
But this week has been harder for him for some reason.

Maybe because it has been a hard week for us (his moms).
Maybe because he's been getting to bed too late.

Dropping the boys off at day care is tough on my spirit anyway.
It's not that I think I would be the greatest stay-at-home mom; I'm pretty sure I would not be as patient as their current care givers.  And it's not that I think it would be better for them to be at home during the day ...Call it denial or self substantiation, but I have really "bought into" the "day care is really good for kids" shtick. 

My kids have thrived at day care.  They are surrounded by a team of smart, generous, loving people.  They are showered with praise and affection. They are learning and enjoying new things and people (and songs and stories and toys) every day.  They are exposed to and building up epidemiologically significant levels of immunity to all sorts of pathogens.

It's just that...
It is a long time to be away from them (work day + commute time). 
And sometimes in the AM, it is such a relief to drop them off, that I know I must be a bad person. 
Bottom line: It is hard to drop them off when they are happy to be there, and it's even harder to drop them off when they put their heads down and cry (ML) or beg for you to not leave them (JB).

But today, after the trauma/drama at drop off, I drove to work feeling 2 parts melancholy and 1 part numb.  I tried to turn it around and  committed to making it a better day than yesterday.  When I got to the office and saw myself in the bathroom mirror:  My black shirt has all these white patches and smudges where JB's moist protestations of abandonment were left on my lower abdomen...

And that explains the post's title.


--
Sent from my iphone

Just barely one step ahead

This morning JB was a wreck. Crying, whining, not himself at all even before he woke up completely.

Then he started (pretty convincingly) with a litany of, "I don't feel good"s and "I'm sick."

He couldn't tell us what was wrong just kept crying and saying he was sick.

We persisted in the somewhat gentle questioning and then he cried out, "MY BIG TOE. MY BIG TOE HURTS. I HURT IT AT MY SCHOOL AND NOW I DON'T FEEL GOOD."

Poor kid, if only he said, "My belly."

I would have fallen for it today if all that drama were connected to belly pain.

Sent from my iPhone

Go to bed, already.

Tomorrow, we will try to spend the day demonstrating pleasantness in the midst of our anxiety and discomfort.

Tomorrow, we will try to remember the spirit of women who were pretty damn good role models even before the mantle of sainthood was placed on their memories.

Tomorrow, we will let our bodies and minds fight it out... Our minds want to be in charge of our emotions, but grief and anger have a way of marking you physically. And "the body" sometimes has a more accurate memory than even "the memory".

Tomorrow, we will cherish our children.
(A little more than we do every other day.)
Tomorrow, we will try to be gentle with each other.
Tomorrow, we will try to be generous and a little more patient than we usually need to be in our interactions with others...

But TONIGHT, before I go to bed, I'm going to check every window and every door (like Katy made me promise to do) to be sure they are locked. And I'm going to say a silent, but heartfelt "fuck you" to the psychotic criminals who killed our friends 3 years ago...

Then I'm going to wash the destructive anger off my face, and brush the bile off of my teeth, and try to shake the gnawing anxiety from my core. And THEN, I'm going to hold my wife close- hoping that my love and concern can keep bad dreams at bay- and trying to convey to her through my actions that no matter what, I'm here with her and I love her... and I'm sorry for the losses she has endured.

------------
Our church benediction:

Go out into the world in peace
Have courage
Hold onto what is good
Return to no person evil for evil
Strengthen the fainthearted
Support the weak
Help the suffering
Honor all beings
Amen.

Conversations overheard

July 1, 2010:
At a Dayton Dragon's (minor league) game, JB, still awake in the 9th inning: "Where's the um'pirate?"

July 5, 2010:
Out for a walk with JB in the stroller... Neither of us has spoken for a few minutes. Out of the blue he announces: "Bibbity Boppity BACON".

July 11, 2010: JB is falling asleep in the car after many hours of swimming and playing. His eyes are lolling around in his skull and I say to him, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" He blinks a few times and says, "Can we hear some Lady Gaga?"

We stop for gas a few minutes later and there is an amazing double rainbow. It is the first time we have the opportunity to show him a real rainbow. Katy and I pull JB out of the car and point to it, using various clouds, trees, and an airplane as points of reference.

Moms: Do you see it? It is right there?
JB: yes (he's looking in the wrong direction)
Moms: Look up there, see the colors?
JB: yes
Moms (trying to point him to it) see the jet? it's about to fly through the rainbow. Do you see the rainbow?
JB: (not looking high enough in the sky to see the rainbow) Yes. I see it
Moms: (emphatically repeating themselves)
JB: Um, can I just look at that dump truck?
Moms bring their gaze to the horizon and see a huge, orange, municipal, dump truck parked about 200 feet away and start laughing, hysterically.

This morning, in our kitchen, JB has his hands in fists:
JB: can you clean my hands off
Me: sure.
JB: (Handing me an empty banana peel) They have some of this carcass on them I need to clean off.

This evening while waiting for the tub to fill, a naked JB is sort of quietly muttering to himself: "blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah"... I can't really hear him and lean in for a better listen. He sounds like an actor patiently rehearsing lines. With a gentle inflection, he intones: "I'm not mad at you, I'm not angry, I'm just explaining... I'm not angry... I'm not mad, I'm just explaining..." I run, silently giggling to get Katy. She says, "Where did he pick that up?" I roll my eyes as she has said this to him 2 times this evening alone... And last week when I caught him considering the dimensions of an electrical outlet and shouted him away from it, I had to write a convincing jingle off-the-cuff with these very words to stop the kid from sobbing.

NOT TO BE OUTDONE...
ML: (several times over the last few weeks) "DA!"
"Da-da!"
"Na-na!"
"GA!"
"Laaaaaaa" and "AaaaaaaRrraaaaaaarrrrr" (in a perfect imitation of a drunken Barney from the Simpsons.)

So effing amazing... these kids are!