“They say Jonah was swallowed by a whale
But I say there’s no truth to that tale
I know Jonah
Was swallowed by a song…”
~ Jonah by Paul Simon
Jonah has a broken finger incurred sometime during this morning’s tantrum/attack/aggression, on the bus that takes the kids up to the school building. They took him to the hospital, x-rayed his hand, splinted his finger, brought him back to the house. Not an enormous deal but one that caused me some concern.
His regular nurse was so kind when she called to tell me. “Jonah is fine,” they always start out by saying. Sometimes he isn’t – not really, but at schools like this everything is relative. And he is fine. He is safe and he is fixed up and it is over.
But I asked her to please contact Andy first next time. Andy lives 5 minutes away. I live an hour and a half a way. I have a full time job, and I can’t be at my desk crying, like I nearly always end up doing. I’m a crybaby, they need to understand, “strong mother” or no, and you can’t make me lose it at work because then nobody wins. I need my job. Let Andy call me at 5:30 when I get home from work and then tell me what happened, unless it’s an “he’s not okay” emergency. Andy’s willing to do this and we’re going to try this new “leave mom out of the loop for a few hours” plan.
I’m tired of the merry go round. I want off. After a while it makes you sick to your stomach. Your horse or your ostrich or your donkey goes up and it goes down, over and over, while the merry go round itself circles round and round, all with the bad-stereo strains of carousel music playing too loud and endlessly, no way off, no one to stop it all.
I just don’t have the fortitude.
[fawr-ti-tood, -tyood] Show IPA
Thus ends a long Thursday. Across the miles I am holding my son in my arms, so close, smelling his hair, breathing him in, and he is calm, and we have snuggle time, and we are both swallowed by a song…a lullaby…