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Archive for October 18th, 2010

Today Jonah had a ‘3-incident’ day but it’s still less than usual and it was at school, thank God and thank Wildwood and thank his teachers, who are equipped with safe rooms and hold techniques and lots of trained, caring folk to cope with my boy.  (I’d be such a poor special ed teacher, crying like a little girl pushed by a bully every time some kid bit me).

And I never thought I’d love a Monday so much.

Today Jonah was very good at after-school program — and hallelujah the 5-point car harness thing I’d ordered for him came in, so I picked it up at lunchtime.  It looked like kind of a complicated contraption; when I got back to the office, I handed it to co-worker/handyman/mechanically inclined S and asked him to put it together for me.  “Did you even try to do it yourself?”  he asked me.  “Well, no,” I responded sheepishly.  “Then go try first, like a big person!” he half-mocked.

So I did.  I installed that hundred-and-fifty-dollar contraption in the car my own self, and walked upstairs all proud, and S asked me “now don’t you feel empowered?”  and yeah, I had to admit, I did feel empowered.  As if some kind of Superwoman emerged from the ashes of a broken, busted-up, scared little girl.  (If you count installing a car harness to be a superpower).

And Jonah acquiesced nicely to being secured in the thing, so we proceeded to go see his beloved train.  He laughed and giggled the whole way — I kept catching my breath and holding it, forgetting to breathe, almost, thinking:  really?  he’s really happy? and it made me so glad to have my boy back – my sweet, humor-filled, loving, fun, precious little kid.

When the train came he clapped and shouted with joy:

…and then we were rewarded with another train, and when we got home Andy’s mom had dropped off a yummy casserole and m m m for Jonah, and my lovely friend K delivered me a delicious apple sage pork chop dinner with mashed potatoes and stuffing, with amazing desert and candy treats besides – even golden chocolate moneycoin (especially for Jonah).  Sometimes I can see how life works, once I decide I am determined to love it again, come hell or high water…how, as Sara Crewe said in A Little Princess, “The worst never quite comes…”

Jonah was good all night.   Another co-worker, B, had kindly given me a little moneycoin bank for Jonah, and the kid played happily on the floor with it, letting out big shrieks of joy (that maybe would have annoyed the crap out of me two months ago but today sounded perfectly awesome).  Then he ate some of his grandma’s casserole, and took a bath, let me help him brush his teeth, and went to bed, all like a very good little angel of a boy.  Whew.  Hooray!  I am grinning ear to ear, almost crying from the amazing wonder of it all.

I ask for help and am getting it.  I push through and am rewarded with days like today.  Thank you, thank you, thank you I tell God in the same mantra of the help me help me help me from the other day.  I appreciate this day.  I appreciate it even if it is only one day of respite.  I appreciate that others are also dealing with awful things and hellish days and long, empty nights.  That I am not alone.

That we are all in this together.

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“I caught a piece of the sunshine, put a little hope in me
But after the flood raged, there’s nothing really left to see
But I was not done, or beat, the violence was a source of strength:
Not everything is always just as it seems…”

~ Guster

I gave Jonah his pill right off the bat Sunday morning and warily waited to see what kind of kid the world was going to deal me this day.  Attack number one came early; we were sitting together on the couch watching Thomas the Tank Engine when he turned sideways suddenly and kicked me in the face.  I jumped up to avoid further injury and held him on the couch until he quieted, then we counted down together and he seemed okay.  (I think I’ll have a bit of a shiner though).

I guess I got a little squirrely.  I knew I wouldn’t have help until early afternoon at best and I was tired of being afraid.  I decided that even though the new 5-point harness I ordered for our car didn’t arrive yet, I would secure him in the car seat with the shoulder strap, tight, and lap belt too, and pull the driver’s seat up as far as possible.  I figured he’d be safe and I could just drive him to see the train and wherever else, anywhere else, just to eat up time.  He did get to see the train but he was cranky and seemed really light-sensitive.

He asked: car ride? …so I decided to take a familiar loop through Altamont and back around to Voorheesville.   Very suddenly and without provocation, Jonah unbelted his seat belt (which I thought was too far away for him to reach) and launched himself at me, grabbing a chunk of my hair and my glasses, which went flying.  I can’t see to drive without them, so I pulled over abruptly.  Quite automatically, without much thought or premeditation, I found my glasses, got out of the vehicle, closed the door, walked to the front of the car, pulled my cell phone out, dialed 911, and blubbered out the story of my Lifetime TV movie life to the dispatcher.  I’m afraid to drive, I said.  I’m afraid he’s going to make me go off the road and crash, I cried.

Passing motorists gaped at the sobbing lady on her cell phone.  Soon I was surrounded by three emergency vehicles (I told them no ambulance was needed, thanks anyway) all filled with people who wanted to help me but seemed confused as to where to take us exactly.  The whole time Jonah was in the car and pretty calm.  I thought maybe they’d think I was nuts, he was so calm — I wasn’t sure they’d even believe me — but I had teeth bite marks from yesterday and a brand new puffy cheek to prove I was indeed, I guess, a ‘battered mom’.  Finally they put Jonah, car seat and all, in the back of a cruiser and I followed them to the AMC/CDPC crisis center, where a doctor talked to us briefly and I called my friend M to come and meet us there.  I told the doc I thought I could handle things with M’s help; they fed Jonah another dose of clonodine, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, chips, and a nuclear-orange colored drink while he watched Toy Story and I rested on a bench, closing my eyes, focusing on breathing.  In, out.  In, out.

“…so take a breath and step into the light….everything will be all right…”

~ Guster

He stayed incident-free once we got home, and my friends P and Mx kindly dropped me off some yummy cider, pie, and black soda.  After I put Jonah on the bus to beautiful, blessed Wildwood School, I’m going to bring the cider and pie to work, heat both of them up, sit at my desk, eat, drink, and smile from the complete respite of it all.

Sweet, wonderful work.  Marvelous Monday.

Bring it on.

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