It's not a secret to anyone close to me how awful these past winter months were. I think Derek & I were in such a survival mode. Licking the wounds of our pain while keeping on a brave face for the girls. Ahhh, these girls though, you just can't fool them, they knew. They felt our pain, regardless of how hard we tried to hide it. They knew we were hurting so in their own way, they clung closer and we just held on. At times, I don't know who was holding onto who, them to us, or was it really us to them? Rosemary began nursing more, at age 3, it was just what she needed to feel secure. Camille clung to a strict bedtime routine of reassurance of this chaos with sweet songs being sung in her ear while she drifted to sleep.
It wouldn't be until mid-June, during a night of yet another crisis to sort, that my dear child, groggy for sleep, with one question would let me know exactly HOW she was dealing:
"When will things go back to normal" she would ask and sadly, at that moment, I didn't have an answer but I new I better come up with a plan.
What was normal to my precious 5 year old? Mama making pancakes in the morning, and singing songs at night.
Nothing changes if nothing changes, so I had to make a change.
We have done nothing this summer. We made no commitments. Dabbled in absolutely no family drama. Just focused on each other, cocooned ourselves within our little family. The weeds grew in the front yard, but we didn't care because we have been to busy playing vicious jelly fish in the pool until dinner each night. No camps, no dance class just lazy mornings with coffee, PBS and wedding girls riding on their make believe horses until lunchtime. It's been bliss. It prepared me for the harsh slap of August. The month that was supposed to expand our family. I know if I let myself blink the hustle and bustle of September will creep upon us.
But I know this rest time has to end. I must face the world again, face people and relationships and commitments. I don't want to leave this place though, our time-out.
This week is VBS and I dreaded the facing of people. I even considered canceling, just not showing up. There hadn't been much talk about VBS starting so maybe Camille wouldn't notice if we skipped it this year. As tempting as canceling would be, come Monday morning, I dragged myself out of bed, welcomed by the rain on the first day and the sun the days that followed. Put actual thought into clothes, making up of myself and out I went. Day one was hard, I won't lie. The seeing of people, the talking, conversing. I must admit that I didn't come across as the flashy smile I normally do. But I got through it, and you know what? My kids did to. But better than me.
And how Camille showed me back in June it was time for some hiding? They both show me in August, the month that I really want to hide, that it's time to spread our wings again.
Amazing how much our kids can also be our teachers.
2 comments:
It is definitely important to take time to heal and then re-emerge back into life. Good thing you have been able to do that this summer. It is a great thing that your kids have inspired both phases. I hope you are able to feel “normal” again very soon. Whatever “normal” is and I am not sure what that means for me either.
I am so sorry to hear of your continued pain. I wish i could make it all better. To take it away from you but I can't. Your cocoon was the best place you could go, block it all out, deal with it with the people who love and adore you the most. Try and protect them from your pain. but they are little people and the little people in our lives see and feel everything, no matter how hard we try and hide it. it hurts them too. but we get up each day and look at them and, if anything, live that day for them. we were bred to be resilient, it's in the genes and so are they. i hope your time out has proven fruitful and you walk away from it lessons learned, as you have said yourself you have been stretched and are maturing - isn't that what time outs are about? but remember when you come out of time-out there are always those loving arms to reassure you that it is ok and you are still loved. hang in there, my dear sister. i love you.
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