What a week, huh.
It’s really difficult for me to go about life in a “normal” way right now. What does that even mean?
After the march I felt elevated. Powerful. Motivated. But that feeling quickly made room for feeling overwhelmed, frustrated, helpless, angry, depressed. This week just crushed me with everything terrible that “that man” did. How is this our reality now? I know these questions are useless; what we need is action. And thankfully, despite my depressed sentiments, I am fortunate to be surrounded by a powerful group of women (Brooklyn moms! Don’t mess with us.) who helped me maintain focus. Calls are being made, events are being planned, unity is happening. Sometimes I truly think that it took this monster to bring us all together.
On the home front, things have also been a little…meh. The husband is sick and presumably slowly dying from what seems to be an actual cold, not a “man cold.” Is it only me who raises a suspicious eyebrow when the husband announces that he’s getting sick? I do. I doubt the severity of that sickness. In this case I admit there was a genuine need for wifely compassion, quiet children, and DayQuil. Some of those I could provide, especially the latter, because it is available in stores. As far as compassion, I made my famous “hot lemon” with … lemon and honey. It cures just about anything, in case you were unsure. As for quiet children, look elsewhere.
My children are never that. What they are, though, is this: loud, challenging, brilliant, very loving, adorable, annoying, constantly hungry, moody, Octonauts-obsessed.
Julian has been a pretty constant source of “no worries.” He excels in school, makes friends, is happy, easy-going, helpful, kind, ever so protective of his little brother. Also: stubborn. I could write pages and pages about him, his plans to run the Q subway line one day and how he will make enough money to be able to afford an apartment in both Upper Manhattan and Coney Island to allow him to rest as much as possible after work, how he is planning his May birthday party now, how deeply he both cares for and annoys his brother and plays with him every waking minute, how is math capabilities are blowing my mind, and how we never receive any correspondence from his school (other than to inform us of school projects, plays and field trips), which I have learned is a good thing.
My baby boy, my Arthur, is worrying me. So much. He is so sweet, and we just couldn’t adore him any more. No one has ever loved me more fiercely than this child. Seriously, if anyone had told me in my 20s about the sort of love that was in store for me, I would have been incredulous. But here it is, here he is, here are all these loving boys of mine.
We’re considering some new routes to help Arthur with his speech. He is so smart (not just according to me) and so talkative and open, but his peers and most adults just can’t understand him. The saddest part of it all is that he is forming no friendships, doesn’t have any kids in his class he talks about, and quite honestly has no friends other than his brother. And it breaks my heart. He is kind to everyone, never excludes anyone, and will walk up to kids and adults alike to talk to them only to be confronted with blank stares because they don’t understand. And he gets it. Arthur understands that he is not understood. So we’re trying to find more help before this struggle undermines any of his loveliness that we adore so much.
So this mama’s heart is a bit heavy. Heavy with world woes and family woes.
Luckily, there is wine, and my guys. What would I do without them?