Time, and time in the garden helps a lot

Two days ago, (see previous post) Primo and I had an interaction in the car that ended up with him pinching a huge bruise into my upper arm, and me speaking in a hurtful way.  

I was truly shaken.  I sank into an ugly and dark funk.  I wrote that post.  I felt deeply saddened by this violence, discouraged that we could have such a setback, ashamed that even though my son had hurt me, I wasn't able in that moment to keep my temper in check and stay calm enough to keep from scaring him.

Then we cried separately and together for forty-five minutes, talked, apologized, hugged, and moved on.  Here's the rest of the story:

At age 12, Primo is almost as tall as I am now, and though he's very much better at controlling his temper, he does still have trouble with safety issues when he's angry.  He said that by the time he thought to calm himself and be safe, he'd already torn apart some things in the car and pinched me.  That's his fight-or-flight response and the autism delay.

Tomorrow Spark is going in for his second all-day dyslexia evaluation appointment.  I'm so excited to get the data and strategies that we need, but I'm not so happy to give up my only day off to be there.  We do know he's right in the middle of the 'spectrum' of dyslexia (forgive the autism metaphor), not severe and not mild.  We're starting to be able to tell him about the ways he is smart, and we'll learn how to help him know it for sure.

And well, that Hero, and the music, it's something that's integral to his being, something that cannot change, even if he tried.  I think I'm feeling, first, the pre-summer crisis of confidence in our abilities to manage childcare without school; second, a lack of shared purpose in my life with Hero.  We need a spoken agreement on our priorities.  We've been just surviving and tag-team parenting for so many years now.  

Our marriage is a true partnership based on deep love (and wacky humor), but the part where we enjoy each other and have fun together is missing.  The majority of the time we spend together occurs when we're asleep.  We don't know who's the leader when we're both home at the same time.  We don't know how to make conversation at the dinner table when all of us are together.  

I'm hoping that a change in schedule at my office may be coming, so that we'll be able to be a complete family more evenings each week.  I'm not sure whether that means I will have a new job at a different business, whether my position may be terminated, or whether I'll be allowed to simply work a shorter schedule.  My next career step is a big question mark right now.

That brings me to today.  Today has been pretty grand.  I've breathed deeply.  Our geographic area has had a week of stormy weather, drenching downpours, rapidly shifting temperatures, and then sunshine.  Today is a mostly sunshine day.

When the boys and I got home after school, Spark went outside to explore the yard and observe bugs.  I let the cats out so that they could bask in the sunshine and eat grass tips.  They were calmly joyful, as cats can be.  I looked through all the little parts of our yard where I like to plant things, and got more ideas for what I'll work on this weekend.  

I was a very lazy gardener last year, planting very little, not weeding, not mulching.  A perennial that looks very like creeping bellflower (campanula) went to seed and has started taking over our and our neighbors' yards.  Time in the garden, just keeping my mind on the plants and getting my hands in the soil, is healing to me.  So that's the plan for the weekend.

Dyslexia, gardening, and laundry and family.  Sounds all right to me.

Sad today

Oh, Lord, I am not the one best suited to raise this child.  Please help me.  God, please, please help me.  I'm married to a man who seems to love music more than he loves me or his family.  He is so often distracted and un-present. I have one son who is sweet as pie and so very smart, and dyslexic.  This other son, the one who hurt me today, has autism and mental illness.  We are just starting to dig our way out of debt after years of being in it up to our eyeballs.  I feel like everyone expects me to keep us functioning on an even keel.  When I've asked for help, I first get a question about payment for services.  I feel so alone.  The weight of this life is so much.

Tuesday morning in October

And was thinking last night about feeling thankful.

I am thankful for the tiny meow-snores of my giant orange cat.  He does this as he's falling into his first big sleep of the night.  He is still new enough to our family that we are still learning his sounds, his patterns, and his personality.

I am thankful for the warm clothes I wear, and for an extra blanket on the bed that makes sleep time just right.

I am thankful for the kisses that blossom from Spark's lips and speckle me until I can hardly breathe.  And how 'just one more' is always five or ten or twelve, really.

I am thankful for each white hair I find on Primo's head, mixed in with the thick dark browns.  I wonder whether he will be all-white by his late 20's, like his grandfather.  When Primo hugs me now, his arms can go around my shoulders; no longer is he waist-high.

I am thankful for the love I feel when I look at my husband's face.  That feeling is not a choice or a decision; when I see that arrangement of his eyebrows, his eyes, his lips, his nose--it just comes, and I am often surprised by the joy of it.

I am thankful for understanding what it means to feel thankful, especially when I have known despair, fear, and darkness of the soul.  Today I know I am thankful.

Sunday: We are Here!

Two weeks ago, I was in denial about summer schedules and something being vaguely awry with Spark's ability to learn to read.  Then school ended and we had a week to ourselves to try and configure ourselves into a new mode of living.

We have now survived our first week of "our family sport is autism therapy," for Primo and summer school for Spark.  It's been profoundly satisfying to know Hero and I could hold the family together for another week.  I still haven't made all the medical and psych appointments Spark's going to need, but I think that'll come this week.

A great reason for things feeling good is that the money situation may be looking up.  This week we applied for the HAARP refinance program for our mortgage, paid off my car loan, and I sold some old jewelry for more than I expected to get.  We may end up replacing our bald tires before the summer's over, after all.

The cats still need tune-ups, though they seem to be holding up all right.  We've been rather neglectful pet owners of late, and there have been a couple of incidents that forced us to reacquaint ourselves with the local vet.  Our 100-year-old equivalent cat, Gracie, has been in slow decline for the last two years or so, and she required some IV fluids and attention for what appears to have been an intestinal blockage.  The big fella, George, is about 8 years old, and he apparently needs dental work.  We woke up one morning to find that one of his lower fangs was poking haphazardly out of his mouth.  It fell out when I touched it, rotten.  It seems that our dental coverage doesn't extend to our fuzzy babies, though.

I've been reading a series of books that were recommended by Mary at Owlhaven, written by Ralph Moody.  My library's set of them is mostly from the 1960's, with that old-book smell and acid-yellowed paper.  The stories Ralph tells are from his life in the late 1800's and early 1900's; they're full of his boyhood thoughts, working with his family, and the seasonal rhythms and routines of years on western ranches.  The stories are reminiscent of Laura Ingalls Wilder's books, but I relish the male viewpoint and the mostly out-of-doors living young Ralph did.

Often, when I'm checking in on my favorite bloggers' writings during the week, I have some fantastic ideas for posts of my own.  Then the next appointment or mealtime comes up, and I'm off the computer to do the required task.  Sigh.  But then, staying busy keeps the depression at bay.  

I don't have time to feel melancholy when I try to be fully present with my sons.  Hero and I have been making specific efforts to be kind and supportive to Primo, setting an example for how we would like to be treated.  Sometimes it works, though I wonder whether the exercise benefits us more than Primo. The boys have been tangling with each other more, though; Spark just doesn't seem to understand the futility of physically fighting against a brother who is twice his size and age.  He rails at Primo like a crazed amateur boxer.  It's been hot, though, and the boys have been cooped up in the house, trying to stay cool in the a/c.  That's breeding an environment where lack of activity makes nerves go on edge.

Another of my favorite blog-friends is Mrs.G from Derfwad Manor.  This Wacky Wonder Woman will eventually visiting my hometown this summer, and I've actually started dreaming about seeing her.  Perhaps it's the amazing journey Mrs. G has embarked upon, perhaps it's the freedom that I yearn for, perhaps it's just the great vistas she's sharing with us, her Derfs.  I am inspired.