The desperate needy one

Almost two months!

I didn’t mean to stay away for so long. March got away from me and before I knew it, I was looking mid-April square in the eye.  Whenever I’m away for too long, a pile of posts builds up in my head and when I try to tease them out, separate one from another, and write the most pressing ones down, it never works out. The lesson I always come away with is that I need to keep up a regular rhythm. Because to be honest, I love writing here and I still dream of making this space better all the time.

We finished up with hockey (!) and swimming (!), enjoying very much this glorious break before soccer starts in May, and came away learning that the next time we sign Naveen up for any extracurricular activities it will be too soon – he refused to step one toe into the swimming pool with the other sea otters and after the third skating lesson, felt he’d learned all he needed to. When you add up the wasted expense, well I don’t have to tell you what that could have meant to my shoe collection.

Nothing spectacular has happened around here since I last wrote. 

I got tired of cursing the weather and wearily accepted that spring was likely not around the corner. We painted the upstairs bathroom and the spare room in an attempt to get the house ready for selling. Shaune and I are still negotiating (read he doesn't see why we can't stay one more year) the timing, but I'm feeling optimistic that we could be in a new home by (ahem) Summer's end.

Let's see, what else?

There were two very stressful days when Naveen refused to give up a pacifier he found amid the moving of furniture and laying down of drop cloths. I thought I'd gotten rid of every last one last summer!

I watched as Deaglan’s pants got shorter and Naveen’s saucy little mouth got bolder. That kid, well I don’t know what to make of him. His teachers often tell me that they wish there were a dozen just like him. Yet at home he’s the cause of so many of Deaglan’s unhinging moments.

He’s confident and entitled, chatty and bright. And unlike his older brother he is entirely frugal with his affection, leaving me too regularly feeling like the desperate, needy one in our relationship.  

I guess I can see how he might have his teachers at Daycare fooled. I mean look at that innocent-looking face.

And everyday I looked at this big, tall guy here.

And wondered where my baby went.

Oh, and I naively thought we could get a good family shot. I was sooooo wrong.

 

60 one hundred lasterdays

If I’m going to be completely honest, I’ve resisted just about every new phase of parenting.

There was that initial few months with the first new baby where a part of me couldn’t help but think – this is a bloody nightmare, and though the strength of this sentiment eventually rounded and fuzzied itself out in my heart and mind, there was still a fair bit of swearing under my breath when both kids began crawling, and then again when they needed to be toilet trained and weaned from the things they didn't want to give up.

I almost always trip a little when my sense of control is challenged.

Three years ago when Deaglan first started skating lessons, I again felt light-headed at the thought of spending every Saturday morning of that winter shivering behind dirty glass watching him fall and then get up, fall and then get up.

Each fall a physical blow as if to my own body.

We’re a bit seasoned now, two skating sessions and three years of soccer under our belts, some baseball and swimming too. And so it should be no surprise to you that this weekend we entered into that rite of passage so many Canadian families enter willingly – we suited up our skinny kid, handed him a stick and hoped for the best as he slowly made his way onto the ice. We again stood watching and cringing and this time I saw Shaune vomit a little in his mouth when a more experienced parent mentioned that the hockey season includes every Saturday and Sunday right into March.

I was tempted to weep that hockey would rob us of any overnight weekend plans but then I remembered how we felt at the end of this last soccer season: A part of something with the other parents. We all cheered our kids and the kids on the other teams; we didn’t care about goals and winning. By the end of the summer all of us parents knew all the kids’ names, cared for them as if they were our own, unwrapping granola bars and wiping chins, bringing extra treats for the younger ones that weren’t old enough to play.

This morning Naveen came into our bed and asked if we were going to the hockey balrena like we did lasterday. I squeezed my eyes shut tight. A few minutes later Deaglan crawled in, cuddled up close to me and whispered I love you Mom, I love you 60 one hundred times around the world. You’re the best mom a kid could want even when you’re mad at me. For no reason whatsoever.

I sunk into acceptance. What else was I going to do this early on Sunday morning?