The Learning Curve

It's fascinating how you can read a book about attachment, learn the basics on a subject, and still forget the entirety when it comes to living it out.  I suppose it's like any other lesson in life: love your neighbors, be thankful in all things, turn the other cheek.  We learn and forget in the span of a breath.  I cannot tell you how many times I ask our therapist why my child behaves a certain way, and he explains some aspect of attachment that illuminates the world again.  Yet when Sugar Monkey doesn't play well with others, or All-Star is torn up with worry, I forget anew.

The learning curve is so much bigger than I ever thought it would be.

I started reading Ann Voskamp's, One Thousand Gifts.  Have you read it?  It's life-changing.  Well, it seems to be and I hope it to be life-changing.  I just pour over the pages like she's written honey of which I can't get enough.

I've started my own gratitude journal with the hope that it begins to transform my heart the way that it has hers.  Should you be interested, the title refers to an endeavor challenged to her to write down 1,000 gifts God had given to her.  Then her thousand-item list became lifestyle of gratitude.  She found the 'joy in all things,' about which Paul wrote, stems from thanksgiving.  The challenge lies in becoming a person who is indeed daily, hourly thankful.  It's a fascinating book.

Savor the little things, say all mothers, because the little things disappear all too soon.

little hands fetching to be held
wide eyes ready to play
arms lifted high, begging to be pulled to the sky
squeals of delight
little voices speaking, i love you

But when little men roar about a world from which they have fallen victim and then beat their chests against any perception of pain anew, it feels so easy to board up a wall of protection instead of waiting for the tears of relief, (which will fall in time -- just wait) and then to love and feel thankful for wet, tear-stained faces to smashing deep into the belly.

Hard.  But necessary.

Today we had one meltdown over homework before the neighborhood friends arrived to bring joy back to the day.  One meltdown with screaming and head-banging and tears that eventually slowed, then drifted into a stillness of regret.  Waiting for that stillness, I finally asked why we had that meltdown.  He said he saw he had one more bit of homework and it tipped him over the edge (in little man, absent of feeling words, vocabulary).  Now?  He's up in a tree with his brother and two neighbors.  And I'm thankful these boys have each other, that the tree holds four bodies mightily, that laughter squeals fill the neighborhood whether the neighbors like it or not, that my boys are safe and happy,
and that they are mine.
My messes forever.

All-Star

All-Star is a tough guy.  He loves to rough-house, tackle, crash and anything else that seems like things only a hard-core boy would do.  But don't let all that wild child fool you.  Tonight almost broke his little heart because it was verging on too late for reading stories and he just loves to snuggle up on his bed and listen.  He wraps his little arms around mine as I read and then places his head on my shoulder.  His favorite books are non-fiction ones about various animals around the world.  One night he wants to listen to information about manatees, and the next we're learning about big cats in the wild.  It's fun to see this sweet and cuddly side to the same rough and tumble boy.

A Glass Half Full

I've never considered myself a negative person.  I feel like I'm always smiling, and always joshing around about things.  My sister might tell another story.  I once asked her to make sure she called my college girlfriends should I die and she thought I was morbid and refused.  Oh well, college gals.  If you don't hear from me after a few years, just assume the worst.

All-Star and Sugar Monkey

I tell you what though, as a parent, I think I'm realizing just how negative my general outlook can be; I'm sorry to say.  My kids have had a hard story -- not the worst stories I've ever heard, by any means -- but tough enough that I think they are phenomenal little miracles.  With all of that hardship, they are not without their scars.  We see their scars on a daily and often hourly basis and it wears us out.  I won't lie to you that in the day-to-day walk of life, hubby and I feel more exhausted by their "difficulties" than we have pity for their recovery.  

So this is what I want to do.  And bare with me as this is definitely more for myself than it is for you.  Just like in November, people all over Facebook shared one thing for which they were grateful each day of the month.  So for the rest of December, I want to share one thing a day that makes me so proud of my little guys.  It's an effort to help me focus on the positive, and maybe even help you guys get to know our crazy family a little bit.  

Don't worry, though, I'll post my normal stuff too.

Before I get to posting about all this, I want to give my kids some fun nicknames.  So in looking at the picture above, my oldest is on the left, and I'll nickname him All-Star.  My youngest on the right will go by Sugar Monkey.  I think those nicknames say a lot about them already, and if you don't get the implications, maybe over the next month you will.

YAY!  I'm so excited about this journey in sharing with you all the best parts of my kids.  

So here's day #1:

All-Star working on putt-putt

All-Star is a go-getter in a way that I have never been in my entire life.  While I sit back and worry about failure, about getting hurt (physically or mentally), my son wants to tackle life like we're on a football field.  The day he got his first scooter, he began to spend inordinate amounts of time practicing his scooter and had it mastered within days.  It didn't matter how often he fell, or how tricky the idea of it was at the beginning.  It didn't matter how young he was or how little he had for an example.  He dove headfirst into the project and didn't emerge until he was a successful whiz on the streets of our neighborhood.  

This makes me so proud of him.  I know that he doesn't give up when something seems hard and that puts him above the rest of the kids -- and makes him super-special.  Most of us want to give up when something seems hard.  But he doesn't.  He works it through until he's the one in charge -- not the fear that crumples the rest of us.  It's pretty stellar.  HE's pretty stellar.