The moon is full...no I mean, REALLY FULL. I heard today that the moon is the fullest it's been or will be in a while...triggering unrivaled emotions, odd behavior, and mood swings. I would have normally said, "...sounds like your average day here". Then I started thinking. It made clear sense...almost eerily so.
While the nudist colony still stakes claim here, I've taken it upon myself to dress Atti in MANY layers. By the time I find him trying to get 'as nature intended', he's usually only two layers in...we've negotiated on socks, they are now optional. However, I made it very clear that some day, the orange jumpsuit will be mandatory, enjoy his freedoms now. He laughs, and runs away, usually finding the most pointy object he possibly can find...fourth kid.
The moon's lure did not surprise me in this house. Emotions have been running high for a few days, about very little on the surface, which usually means there's more there but no one is wanting to talk. I even found myself if a fury of things to do today, and then duly noted to myself, get ready...it's your turn next. Not sure if I can blame this on exhaustion, or just another family event tomorrow. At any rate, it hit. Tomorrow Abe's birthday...It's hard to imagine, as it seems like yesterday he was born. As with any holiday, I try extra hard on the kids birthdays to make sure it is as it has always been...but sometimes I wonder if it's enough.
I am very careful about talking about Jason with them. I don't make a big deal out of it, he's part of our vernacular. However, I try very hard not to pry into what they are feeling. Not because I don't want to know, I'm always wary of picking a scab. I'm always wondering, if I say too much is it just going to make them feel worse? I try to constantly and subtly remind them that there is always an open door, when they want it, it's there. But, there are times when I don't have to remind them...they really have no problem of saying it, I'm not the one they want to talk to.
I wish I knew a way to describe Heaven...at least to a four year old. I wish I could just say Guam...at least I could tell her where it was at. I'm asked the same questions routinely. I've read all the books to her. I've quoted Maria Shriver, Elmo, and the kid who died and came back again. Even though I give the same answers every time I'm asked, I know she keeps asking because it's not really the answer she wants, hoping I'll just crack under the pressure. She so desperately wants what she cannot have. It comes in waves, and currently it's high tide.
Then I have one on the opposite end of the spectrum who cannot put it directly into words, but he's just mad. He can mask it at times, but when things don't seem to be going his way, look out! I thought I had a fairly menacing glare, but this kid has nothing on me. I know he's scared, and I can't make him talk until he's ready. So, until then...I enjoy the occasional look of , "...I really hate you...". Last night I called him on it. Told him that while I know life is hard, I'm afraid he's stuck with me. If he was planning to move out, make sure to clean his room before he left.
Then there is Abe, who turns eight tomorrow.This kid that seemingly is right on the cusp of being ornery. He is so full of love. No seriously, the kid would do anything for anyone...willingly plays with the Smalls...he'll run down in the middle of the night to let me know Oscar is sick. He usually does what he's asked to do, THE FIRST TIME. In this house, that's the equivalent of a superhero/mythical character/ someone from the Box Car Children (Abe's newly disclosed favorite books). He is quick with his humor, he loves with all of his heart, and he is a spirited ladies man...heaven help me.
Sometimes, the things that really haunt me, aren't always for me, but for my children. The things that they don't get to have that so many of their friends might take for granted. Everyday I'm sure they miss what they had...even if they've done a lot of living since. Everyday, I try to fill in the gaps of what they might missing. But, let's face it, I'm fighting a ghost. I'm the one telling them to clean their room. I'm the one telling them not to set bad examples for their siblings. I'm the one who can't fully explain why you can't see heaven. I'm the one who can't help them remember an exact time they had with their dad. I'm the one who gets to see their faces the first thing when they wake up...and sometimes it stings, knowing mine isn't the one they wish to see.
I know my kids love me. I know that I have tried hard to keep some stability/routine/sanity here for them, even when I myself was about to lose it. Cut to me, frosting a birthday cake today, thinking do they even know why I do this? It doesn't matter, because I do it for them. The moon, yeah, it caught up with me tonight. For a moment, I was taking out the trash, and before I knew it I was emotional. How much has changed in eight years. How different our lives have become. Life doesn't give you what you want. It gives you what is supposed to happen. How you survive it is up to you. Me? While it's been a while, I've become adept at hiding tears...
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