Sunday, October 2, 2016

...just keep swimming, just keep swimming...


It's October...and the litany of all things fall/Halloween commence. My kids love this time of year as much as I do, even Oscar today said, "Where are the fall books? I need to read some, I'm just in the mood." There will be cookies to make and pumpkins to carve and costumes to try to put together. I am grateful that my kids are still "into" these things, as I know they won't be forever. The October 1st tradition is to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. As it was starting, and we were all together, I looked at every one of my kids and I touched their arm. It seemed odd, but it was like I was caught up in the moment. We have been watching this movie for as long as I can remember, for some of my kid’s whole lives. We laugh and we recant our favorite parts, it's like a secret tradition that we have always somehow kept.

So many things are happening at once it seems like a whirlwind. Some things are great while others are challenges. Nora learning to ride her bike finally seems like a rite of passage. And as promised, she got to ride to Casey's General Store for doughnuts this morning. Instead of following her in my car like I did the first time she rode her bike to school, I went along for the bike ride. She is FAST! I had a hard time keeping up with her. As I watched her this morning, I envied her lack of fear. I watched her, albeit cautiously, peddling downhill, seemingly flying and thought- ah, to be seven again. I'm proud of her for facing her fears, just wish she had a slight fear of speed at this point.

The sojourn of being a single parent at times is more than difficult. No matter how others offer to help, it is just not the same. Perhaps it is my control freak tendencies, maybe it is habit, or maybe I'm the only one who really knows these kids behind closed doors. Like the saying goes, they're good for company. Sometimes it is what goes on when there aren't any witnesses that are really truer than the sometimes-fiction they portray for others. The pangs of seeing a kid who really needs their father, a sojourn I never signed up for, but we'll get through it. Like I said, people have offered to try to step in and be that person, for which I am grateful, but it is just not the same. They will know when they are ready to speak up about it, until then I wait…and of course worry.

I am going to be more honest right now than I probably ever have been. After Jason died, there was a time when I just hated him. I hated him for leaving me a single parent. I hated him for never showing me how to do some things. I hated him for not being able to see how our kids have grown. I hated him, hated him, because somehow it took the sting out of missing him. If I could be angry at him, I wouldn't miss him. The fact of the matter is, he was my best friend and I loved him. He was a good father and a good person. Sometimes I just miss talking to him, asking him for advice or some sort of reassurance that I am doing the right thing, or saying the right thing. I'm outnumbered by people in this house who don't have the same parts as me...and sometimes that terrifies me. I miss my friend, the other half of my children, who gets them as much as I do. I no longer hate, but I hope that I am doing the right thing by him.

The last four years have seemed like a decade. My mind goes back to all the things I didn't appreciate at the time, the moments I didn't pay enough attention to or the things I didn't coin in the moment as special. Sometimes they can still knock the wind out of me. While these kids at times drive me to drink, terrify me and give me endless laundry and stories, I know that they are some of the strongest human beings I know. I marvel at how sometimes things just come together... In the middle of chaos driving down the street, Atti cheering out the window to Nora while she rides her bike,"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Mean while the boys show their less than stifled embarrassment to merely be seen with us...I see how far we have come, but sometimes I miss the one who isn't there to laugh about it with me.

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