Every now and again I am hit with the conviction that we - as parents - aught to have merit badges like the scouts do. One merit badge being for every time you successfully potty trained a kid.
And now - a merit badge for when you said "YES" to something for the benefit of the kid and you had all reason and logic would dictate, and the planets were alined to say NO.
A binge in selfishness was *certainly* in order and due.
I am at a point of said selfishness - my moon is aligned such that I AM THE CENTER . . . so motivated by pain since it's my first day of . . . *cough* "aunt flow's" visit and she always comes with such a wallop of pain.
My spine and legs are trying to pull away from my body and to walk independently of me, and my back keeps me doubled over in submission . . . . so I go for the big stuff - the vicodin, and if I don't fall asleep soon, I usually start to get sick to my stomach.
But, it seems that at this moment where every.single.thing. is getting on my LAST nerve, my 7yr old wants to do LEAPS AND BOUNDS in learning and - inspired by finding his dad's "diary" from when his dad was his age - now my boy wants to write in a notebook too.
This is leaps and bounds because up to this point he has had no interest and - dare I say - an aversion - to writing. Even to write his name - especially his LAST name, which is a mouthful, I grant you - would cause tears and fits; and all this time, every time, I asked him to try to read something he'd says "I can't" . .
Now -really, does it have to be right now*eye roll*! He comes in with a note book and draws pictures and is attempting to sound out a story.
And I try to sneak away and go to bed early "Mommy doesn't feel good" . .
But he finds me in the bathroom - and is on the BATHROOM FLOOR asking me about this word, that word, can I help him . .
"Yes," I say thinking GET OUT! GIVE ME SOME PRIVACY! GO BUG YOUR DAD! LETS DO THIS LATER! LETS NOT DO THIS AT ALL!
Nevertheless, I know if I drop this ball now- that's it - I'm not going to get this chance later, and I can't call up his enthusiasm when it suites me, and honestly, I LOVE what I'm seeing happening before me . . . so Yes it is.
I praise his work so far, tell him I'm proud of what he is doing, but that it's really hard for me to read his writing without spaces. And then actually tell him - nicely- that mommy needs her privacy here and I'd meet him in my bed if he wanted to continue.
In bed we continue to talk back and forth and he continues to write and draw.
I suppress the desire to nit pick EVERY mistake, a "d" flipped backwards, the switch from lower case to upper case letters and the total lack of a period . . . and just put in little helps along the way 'cause I don't want this beautiful thing to stop.
And the vicodin is kicking in, and I'm now throbbing at a dull ache . . .
and my boy has gone from this:
|It says "A plane. A plane flies. And I am in the plane."|
And it is actually a complete story - which he read back to me (picking my chin off the floor). He has sworn me to secrecy, and these are the only excerpts that he has OK'd for public viewing . . the rest is for Grandma's eyes only.
And he is still writing -
I have ask for NOTHING of this, kinda been begging for it to stop, really.
So. I think I need to add a SAY YES badge to my sash - or some such ceremony - this one was EFFORT!
But I'm so glad I did.