Fasten Your Seatbelt

 

Seems everyone needs security. Dawson was insistant on buckling in his "Super Pig" whom he's named Lucy one week, Ed the next. Not sure of his/her name this week. But there "it" sits on the couch. Dawson puts blankets over him/her when Dawson is cold. Shares his dinner - even shared an apple earlier today. I'm greatful Dawson has acquired skills of caretaking and empathy. It makes me proud that he's developed a conscience.

I watched him while at dinner the other night and the music was playing in the background a little louder than normal. He had his eyes closed, chewing a corn dog and in perfect rhythm moving to the music.

I often wish I were that in tune. Remember the days when you actually knew how to relax. I feel impatient lately. Rushing through the day, not having a desire to wait, enjoy. I feel an imense lack of security. I have everything to be secure about. I have a secure job. I have a place to live. I have a decent income. I have money in the bank. I have a super little boy, food in the fridge, clean clothes. So, what's to feel so insecure? The person you could turn too. Of everything I have, the Lord is feeling so frustrated that it's never enough. When it is. I'd really like to understand why I need to feel secure arms around me. That nothing could go wrong. It's been years since I've had that. Everything rests on my shoulders.

Today I was tired. We spent the entire day yesterday at the park, running around, playing. Dawson had friends over. We played games. Dawson helped me make brownies. Today, I just wanted to rest. There is no rest. Back to the park. Constant conversation. There is no joke when someone said parenting is Full-time. Out of frustration before dinner, I sat on the couch and said, I need a break. Dawson sat with me for about 3-5 minutes. I'm probably being generous. "Break over" he yelled and said can we walk to the park now. Leaving a messy apartment, which was clean when we woke up - off we walked to the park. It is a beautiful day outside. But, I need a break.

 

Happy Flag Day!

It's the Simple Pleasures

 


The end to a sweet day. I wish moments like this would never end. I love being a mother. I had a great teacher. My mother was a great one. Both teacher and mother. I hope it just gets better with each generation. I miss you mom.

The Simple Things in Life

What a great day! Despite an early rise (4:45am), Dawson and I had a wonderful day. Nothing that would appear to be out of the ordinary, normal things, but today was special. We spent the day with my grandma. We sat on her front porch and blew bubbles watching the wind carry them off into the sky. It was sprinkling on and off, but the bubbles continued. We each took turns with the bubble gun seeing who could make a bubble go the farthest. Dawson stood below the porch and swatted a few trying not to let anyone beat him out - thus far he had the bubble that was winning. The day was like spending it with my mother. I see where all the mannerisms come from - they are so much alike. In their words, in their sillyness, in their reactions, in their creativity. I loved it. My grandmother thinks that she needs to "entertain" us when we come visit. Little does she know how much Dawson enjoys playing with Uncle Doug, watching the cartoon channel for a change, and just plain ole vegging on the couch. And me, I could just sit in quiet and watch grandma for hours. She putters. She browses the yard like she knows every single piece of grass blade and where it goes. She has sat on that front porch many times. Come to think of it, we are ending another decade this year - which means more than 50 years in that house of hers. Although now it is painted a seabreeze green, the yard arranged slightly different, a fence now around the perimeter, a carport where there was just open sky - through all the changes, grandma still sits on the porch and enjoys the goings and comings of those around her.

I thought about that all the way home. Why do I find it so difficult to find my porch? I always believed home is where the heart is. But sometimes I dream about my own home and the garden that I would create. The rose bushes and lillies that I browse each day surrounding my own yard. A place where we might have a trampoline or a swing set. A gazebo for resting. Perhaps even a pond with a trinkling waterfall. A place where the smell of fresh cut grass draws you in.

I can't wait to have a home. Not only where I hang my hat each day, but the place Dawson takes his kids and grandkids too one day to tell them, that's where he grew up. The place that he drives by and smiles at all the fond memories of bike riding, pulling weeds, visions of his mother tending the garden, the sweat he poured mowing the lawn summer after summer. Even that lemonade stand he once had. If there is any motivation than that - to build those memories with him in our own place where happiness reigns - it'll someday be our place we call home.

Changing the Sheets

It's been a challenging few nights at our house. The other night Dawson refused to put on a pull-up which we use at night to alleviate bed wetting. And also some washing. It take 3 loads to wash the sheets and mattress cover. Not to mention there is no place else to sleep once my bed is wet so we have to change sheets in the middle of the night - not too pleasant.
Dawson did GREAT the first night. We limited his chocolate milk to a half of cup an hour or so before bed. We woke up at our usual 5am and he wanted something to drink. Figuring we were awake enough now that if he had to go to potty - he'd be awake enough to go. Wrong. An accident. Another sheet washing. I kept my cool though! Praising him all the way for a good night and we'll try again tonight.
That brings us to last night. An early accident - 1am. Dawson woke wet and cold. I was asleep on the couch. I still kept my cool. I changed the sheets and we crawled into bed but Dawson wanted more to drink and I declined to get him anything. I tried to explain my reasoning which was not working. After 30 minutes I gave into a compromise. He could have chocolate milk, but he was going to drink it in his own bed. That worked. He still wanted a thumb though. Dawson goes to sleep rubbing my thumb - it's like his security blanket. So, I got his chocolate milk, sat next to his bed and he rubbed my thumb and fell asleep. Then I was wide awake, none the less he slept in till almost 8am. It worked. I will try that again tonight. Typically he falls asleep on the couch at night and that will give me the opportunity to move him to his bed. We'll try that.

On a personal note and update, I read yesterday where a friend on facebook wrote the following:
She spent her life folding herself into smaller and smaller pieces. They say you can't fold a piece of paper in half more than six times... the same cannot be said of a woman. She could fold herself into smaller and smaller pieces... thinking that each fold made her stronger. Able to face the world and not be touched. Through the years, some of the folds would come undone, and each time she would re-fold them, creasing the folds with care to make sure they were sharp and strong. Her face to the world hid the heart in the folds. She was sure that no one could unfold her... sure that her strength would protect her from the barbs and stings life threw her way. He... sat and stared into her. One fold undone. He... sat and stared some more. The night enveloping them both as they stared. Time not mattering. He... brushed her leg. Another fold undone. She... reached for his hand and he took it. Such a risk to reach for someone's hand... the fear of rejection deafening. Another fold undone. He... touched her hands and in his touch were worlds of words and wants and fire. Another fold... uncreased and smoothed out. The messages within the folds becoming clearer and clearer... blurred with years of folding and re-folding. Smudged with the tears of pain and frustration... he could still read them. Read them as if they were written only for him. Hours didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the unfolding... She.

That's exactly what I am looking for - that someone that wants to take the time to move through the folds one layer at a time. That one person that is interested to get to the center of the heart where it becomes all theirs. I didn't think that existed - but my friend perhaps has shown me otherwise. I think that is true love. I hope she has found that. And I hope too - one day I will as well.

I only have a 3 day work week next week and I'm looking forward to my time. I need a break. I'll take Dawson to school still - probably only part of the day but get some things done that I've needed to do. I'm very much looking forward to it.

Last night I was surfing the internet and stumbled upon a blog about single mom's. I don't know the guy who wrote the article and I'm not even sure what to think about it entirely. Another single mom posted a comment in response and seemed outraged by his words, but I have a sense that it has some merit despite it's obvious theme of being discontent with single mom's. I got the impression from him that he was not able to see his son due to the mother's not allowing - which I think is wrong, but I also know that we have strong instincts as mothers and I just don't judge on only half the information. I on the other hand, feel very frustrated most of the time that Dave doesn't seek out Dawson as much as I wish he would. I feel as though the relationship would deteriorate if I didn't continue to push to keep it together. If I didn't take Dawson to NY - they would not see each other. Dave on two occassions when we lived in Florida came to see us and that was because my father paid for the plane tickets. We (Dawson and I) love to travel and explore. Taking the time and expense to go to NY twice a year is far from an obligation (albeit one - agreed upon by our divorce decree) but a welcomed one. We enjoy those trips. And we are both welecomed with open arms. But once we are gone - it's out of sight out of mind. Whereas that is not the case here. Maybe I try to hard, but Dave is a huge part of our lives even when he's not around. We talk about him, we look at pictures almost daily, we read stories and tell stories about "dad", about all the family. It was just yesterday that Dawson was reciting the months of the year and he skipped February. I teased him - better not forget February that's when Daddy's birthday is. So we proceeded to go through the months and whose birthday was happening that month. It was fun! And we are on this kick - I'm calling daddy to tell on you!

Today is Sunday and we usually make a call to Dave on this day. Dawson of course is 4 and unless I catch an opportunity - a phone call is not on his list of priorities for the day. It's been two weeks and despite us not calling, Dave has not called either. How do you tell someone - the phone works both ways. I know Dave loves his son - but actions speak louder than words. Isn't that what he has always scolded me for? He doesn't want to believe my words and waits for my actions. I see that I'm the only actionable one. Some of my actions may have not been the right choices - none the less - action was made. I didn't just sit by and do nothing. Perhaps I need a different perspective.