It doesn’t matter how long your day was,
how much sleep you got last night,
how dark it is outside,
or how much you think you need to do.
When your Littlest decides at the last minute he wants to swim with you in the dark ocean,
you make that shit happen.
An email from one of M’s teachers:
“What are we going to do with that marvel of a child?
Today, I asked them if they have ever felt loneliness (talking about the idea of “cosmic confinement”- astronauts left on the space station for over a year with no contact).
Michael says, “I have only known loneliness from the point of view of empathy. I have never felt loneliness.”
You know your guy is good no matter what goes down.
We work a lot on empathy. Some say it can’t be taught in “certain brains.” Some say he has that sort of brain. It warms my heart to know they’re wrong. It takes him more than many to “get” empathy but when he gets it it’s pure. I’m learning so much from him.
Hearing this feels good because it reminds me that he’s “protected” from being hurt by his own way of being. In a way, he’s alone a lot, even around others, but he’s such a fully self contained unit that I don’t think he ever actually has felt loneliness. His grown-ups’ job is to stay tuned into him enough to catch it when the inevitable human loneliness does happen; he’ll have had so little practice.
Or maybe he’ll never feel lonely. His brain is so incredibly active, so much to think and wonder about. If this is true, he’s lucky. As far back as I can remember I’ve had an intimate relationship with existential loneliness. I can be lonely anywhere. We’re opposites that way. I keep hoping he rubs off on me. Then again, my perpetual tendency toward loneliness is likely as necessary to my soul as his lack of it is to his soul
I woke up with worries about both boys; their learning, their health, etc…
As I sat at my desk, quietly berating myself for losing focus on the boys in all my Self absorption, in walks my first born, Michael. He’s twelve:
“Ya know, Mom, you’re an awesome parent. Seriously, you have (air quotes) MAD parenting skills. Whenever I’m being kinda hard on myself you’re always there to convince me that I’m not what I’m saying I am.
I’m lucky. I mean, come to think of it, how did I get so lucky, to have this life, with you and dad as parents, this house, a trampoline, all my gaming consoles, this cat, even Dane?
I could pinch myself.”
Note to Self:
Today, bask in having more blessings than you can convince yourself you deserve, and vow to earn them.