I have so much to write about, my dashboard is riddled with my good intentions, some posts with only a title, a few with the first lines, and a couple with just a paragraph or two. And then there is today, I could write a whole post on the mayhem that was our morning. It started with the scrape the Roc got on his knee when his leg slipped from my hand while we were wheel barrow walking down the sidewalk, and then the ensuing meltdown. How hard I wished at that moment that I could just wrap my arms around him and comfort him, but he wants nothing to do with me, or that version of mothering. Instead he screams, runs, and kicks the garage door. I feel a failure inside when this happens, and I know it isn’t for my lack of trying, but I still feel the sting every time he turns from me. I could go on about how my heart sank and a hard knot formed in my stomach when the bus came around the bend and the Roc and I hadn’t had our “tickling on the stoop” time. He tried to run, I caught him, he jelly legged himself to the ground, I pulled him into the standing position by his hands, he stretched and pulled while I crab walked him down the driveway, he screamed in my face, teary eyed and red faced. I stopped 1, 2, 3 times, knelt down while keeping my firm grip, and told him “let’s try again, nice and calm, give mommy a hug and a kiss, relax” to no avail. I could scramble my brain for the words to accurately describe the utter despair I felt as I waved goodbye to his little face and smiled weakly at the bus aide. I turned to go inside. I had a lot of things to get accomplished today.
I’m leaving tomorrow. For 5 days. 5 whole days, and the nights too. I am flying to Florida with my good friend Christa. She is writing a book and doing some research, I’m going along as her sidekick/photographer/note taker. We are driving back up the coast, and not along 95, the actual coast, stopping along the way for interviews and pictures. This is a necessary trip for her, and for me too.
I need a break. I need to recharge. My battery is low, gas tank empty, how ever you want to phrase it, I’m done. I am not effective lately, and I’m struggling along with the Roc. I need the weight of responsibility lifted from my shoulders. I need to breathe. I need to take off all the mommy/OT/speech/behaviorist/play therapist/etc. hats I wear and just be me.
For 5 whole days.