Day Four(ish) - and the story of why...

Tuesday was day two.  At some point it ended, as all days eventually do.  We didn't get to accomplish any of the important things on our list, but we acquired a lizard.  Accidentally.  Sort of.  Its a long story involving Amazon Prime, UPS, an electronic delivery for H and a rush to leave the house for a last minute call to work, and G screaming, "A Lizard! A Lizard!"   It culminated in a trip to Petco.  Because...well...because G named it Liz and then what else could I do but buy it a cage and some crickets? And then we went to bed. When we woke up, it was Wednesday, Liz was still alive and in captivity, and everything seemed right with the world.  And that is how it goes I think, this thing called "life".

Wednesday was day three.  Day three was a day it was too wet to play, so we stayed in the house all the humid, hot, day (thank you Dr. Suess)  No, not really, not ALL day...but kind of.   It rained hard, which we desperately needed, and so we played with playdough and made messes, and played in the big boxes that Amazon and UPS had delivered the previous day (no more lizards thank goodness!) and then finally we clambered into the car so H could practice driving.

Practice is a funny word to use for driving.  I mean, its not like you can make a mistake, like, say, get in a wreck, and then just "undo" it and start over.  No, no, driving doesn't work that way.  Just saying.  But we did it.  I mean, we practiced, not got in a wreck...so we practiced not getting in a wreck?  H drove and I breathed and it was fine.  We shopped at a far away Trader Joes (because momma needed a little "Two Buck Chuck" after that drive) and then dropped G off to visit with his daddy, and then H drove home again, in a torrential downpour complete with blinding sun glare and rush hour traffic. We were very glad to get home.  Both of us equally.  When G came back later on, we were both deep in our own electronic devices just decompressing from the "practice".  And then we went to bed. When we woke up it was Thursday, Liz was still alive and captive, and everything seemed right with the world.  I'm sensing a pattern here.

Today is Thursday.  It is (was?) DAY FOUR. My fourth day of being a stay at home mom.  I've been here before, but just not with THIS kid. It's not unfamiliar to me, but it's entirely different all at the same time.  This is the story of why...

I have 3 other kids, the youngest of whom is 18 and I was at home with her all her entire elementary school years before I started working, at home with her and her two older siblings.  I was home, married, driving a minivan and going to play dates and PTA meetings, and running kids to soccer and karate and tee-ball.  Until.  Until I wasn't.

When G came along, I was a single mom, working hard at two jobs for minimum wage. I utilized a food bank.  I had food stamps and WIC.  I got assistance for heat and utilities.  He was 16 months old when I finally got a good, stable, well paying job.  I was so grateful for that job!  I was proud of my work, of my employer, of how well I was doing, proud of paying my own way and not using assistance of any kind.  When G was just turning 3 I moved him from the small home daycare he was at because I thought he was bored... I found a great preschool with a science and nature based curriculum with outdoor trails and a really good balance of social skills and academics.  The director had been running it for so long, that I actually knew her from when my older kids had gone to some summer camp programs she ran.  How much safer could it get?  Apparently a lot.  I'm not really sure of the whole story, but as best I can tell, that person had a problem with G and began to take out her frustrations with him physically.  I know she used her fingers to "thump" or "flick" him on the head,  I know she grabbed his arm and forced him into a chair, to bully him into her office, to pull him... I know she shook him, by his shoulders.   I know she bent down and got right in his face and made a "mad face"...and I know she used her hand to grab my baby's cheeks in between her thumb and other fingers and "pinch" or "squeeze".  G used the word "punch" but he demonstrated a "pinch"... I hope it was only a pinch.

For seven months my boy was there - seven months before I understood what was happening, seven months of being mistreated by an adult, of being told by ME to "try harder buddy" and "you have to listen to your teacher" and "you just have to behave".  Seven months before I actually HEARD my boy and understood what he was trying to tell me.  I will never stop hurting for those months.

I pulled G out of that center in one swift moment - it was a dark winter night after picking him up as usual, but when he relayed some instance from the day it was like a light bulb switching on for me.  One moment from the back seat, safely snug in his $300 European carseat (because no expense was too great when it came to keeping him safe - oh the irony...) and he was done there.  I left a message on their answering machine, cancelled the check I'd just written for the 'two weeks in advance, payable the Monday prior to the two weeks time frame', called the licensing board, and never looked back.

It was a rocky 3 weeks before I found him a new place.  My boss was accommodating and patient, but I could see her generosity running out by the last week.  The new place was fresh, and bright, with open rooms and a director/teacher who had also had her own child mistreated somewhere...surely she would 'get it'.  And I think she did, to the extent she could.  But my G? He was a little too bruised in the spirit.  A little broken in the feelings of "trust" and "safety".  And he wasn't gonna take shit from no one!

It took another 7 months of hard times, of behaviors and infractions and modifications, of being sent home...before I could choose to listen to the fact that he needed ME.  He needed me to be with him all the time, to be the one to set the limits and enforce them.  He needed me to show him, tangibly, that he was safe.  That he was a good boy, a loved boy, and that he could make friends and have friends and that he could trust his momma to BE there to keep him safe, even when he didn't behave appropriately.  Because when you are 4? Sometimes you don't behave appropriately.  Sometimes even when you are an adult you don't behave appropriately...but I need to be the one to be there when that happens, because even if I get frustrated, even if I yell, I will always keep him safe.  I will not hurt his body, his trust, his faith.  So I quit my job and am staying home to take care of my son.  He is hurt in the deepest place inside and there is nothing that can heal it save love...and patience...and the every day efforts of rebuilding trust and a deep faith in safety.  That's what I'm here for.

So on today, day four, we hung out in our pj's.  We had pancakes for breakfast because G asked for them.  We ate cheese-sticks and crackers with pink lady apples for lunch and G tried snow peas and decided they were pretty good.  Almost as good as carrots, maybe.  We sat outside, zipped up inside our mosquito netted canopy in the sweltering humid New England evening, safe from mosquito's, and played Old Maid by the light of citronella candles and our own love.  We ate peanut butter sandwiches and read The Cat In The Hat.  He was on his Kindle too much, but thats ok.  There is a balance to everything and today was a day for electronics and carbohydrates and simple entertainment.  Tomorrow is another chance to do bigger things.  Today? Today was just perfect.

Day Two

Yesterday was the first full day I was a stay-at-home-mom (sahm).  I guess in the overall scheme of things, it went exactly as planned.  That is, to say, that it didn't, at all.

We ended up driving my ex's daughter, J2, from his house where she'd stayed the night, to her home an hour away with both G and H included in the ride.  *two teenage girls, loud music, singing along and being recorded, and much much much laughter* Once we reached our destination, we made a brief detour to a candy store because, well, candy.  Finally we drove home with the hope to make it in time to get H home to change for work, get her TO work, and then for G and I to make it to a semi-playdate/semi-interview.  We made it all on time but with less grace and finesse than I'd hoped for.

The playdate/interview was for a short term nanny position that will take care of next months rent. So it is pretty critical for us. It didn't go well mostly because G was about as prickly and thorny and ill mannered as a tired, hot, bored four year old can be so I was mutually irritated and embarrassed which made me awkward and inept.  But it was the third time we've all met together so maybe it wasn't so bad that the other mom got to see us in less than prime behavior. Now she knows!

Griff fell asleep in the car around 5pm, unexpectedly as he'd already napped once on our way back from dropping J2 at her house, and slept thru the transfer from car seat to the house to the couch, slept thru falling off the couch about an hour after that, and continued to sleep until just after 7pm.  Hm.  Maybe that was why he acted like a feral jungle child at our playdate?  I knew this 'nap' was going to ruin the evening and mean he'd probably be awake until 11pm, but then again, I didn't have to get up early for work and he didn't have to get up early for daycare so a late night and sleeping in the next day is no longer an issue, can I get an Amen?

He went to bed a little after 10pm and fell asleep right away and was up around 7:30 this morning which felt reasonable and not at all as bad as I'd imagined.  But, all of that was yesterday.  Today is a new day!

We made a King Arthur Flour recipe for Baking Soda Biscuits this morning.  There was flour everywhere.  I am really not exaggerating in the slightest.  Flour.  Everywhere.

Flour, a bowl, a spatula, and a four year old is really not an efficient combination.  However, I didn't feel irritated like I might have in the past, nor did I take over and do it all myself while muttering under my breath.  I didn't sigh with exasperation and G didn't cry or feel disappointed all because I was in a hurry.  This time I didn't have to worry about getting it cleaned up before work or before I went to bed late at night, didn't have to worry about it getting on my clothes, so it was just...part of the total experience.  The smile stretching his mouth and making his eyes crinkle though, and the light in his eyes while he smooshed butter into the flour with his little fingers made all the emotions well up inside my heart like filling a glass full of ice cold water on a hot dry day.  His running commentary (4's talk a LOT!) was so awesome - sometimes humorous, sometimes enlightened, sometimes off the wall and sometimes he was just talking to the spatula.  He may not remember this moment in another week, even I may not remember this exact moment or the feelings of love that bubbled up and threatened to spill out of my eyes, but I know it went one step further towards healing his spirit.

Today promises to be full of the unplanned.  Oh, I have a list alright.  Yard work, a haircut for G, and some long distance drive practice for H...and I might clean up some of that flour thats on my floor, and on the table, and dusted on the wall...or not.

On a practical note, I'm watching my budget but I'm not being as careful with it as I should be.  I want to have some fun with G - I don't want my staying home with him to be a punishment for either of us when the goal is to heal his spirit.  So I'm stepping out entirely in faith that God will be watching over us and getting us thru this time financially as well as emotionally.  I have my savings and I know we are ok thru October and I know I can plan ahead a little but I am not going to be frantic about it.  I trust God.  I trust the universe.  I trust in goodness.  I trust that taking care of my child who is hurting is the very thing I am supposed to be doing.  Please, if I forget that?  Remind me.