The boys have been completely unaffected by the heat. As in-out the back door at 8am and ready to play alllll daaaaay looooong. They can swim in ice cold April swimming pools, and run around in 108 degrees heat. What gives? I miss the flexibility that childhood brings. And the willingness to overcome any physical discomfort in the sake of play.
Parker only rides his bike now. From room to room in the house. Outside to inside. He had my put it in his bed. He tried to bring it in the car. It's as if he can't exist without it, so I let him be who he needs to be right now. This phase will pass, and a new one will replace it. And luckily this one- is pretty darn cute.
One day, when I'm in Heaven, I will finally be able to see the world as they do. And I will cry it is so beautiful.
An excerpt from my book, Little Light Bulbs (Daily). After two years, I'm only about three chapters in. I plan on writing more when both boys are in school full time.
The pool is where we spend most of our free time.
He swims under water now. Like face in. He dives to the bottom for toys. He swims on his back. After so much struggle, I still can't believe my eyes are telling the truth.
Thank you, God. It happened in your (not mine) time. Never mine. And it's perfect.
I'm so over the constant flow of politics on TV and social media. It reminds me of the old comedian, Henny Youngman's joke: The patient says, "Doctor, it hurts when I do this." And the Doctor says, "Then don't do that." I really just need to quit the internet for awhile, but instead I keep subjecting myself to the awfulness.
Bascially, I have dietary restrictions- I am inspiration powered and on a constant Inspiration Diet. And when I ingest too much turmoil in the world, and pain and contradiction and and hatred, and murder- I shut down. I turn myself inside out to protect my skin. But then my insides get hurt and I just can't win. I need to limit the time I spend investing in things that make me feel bad. Like reading comments people leave on Facebook with my jaw dropped down and rolled out onto the floor in front of me. I start to think that is reality- but it isn't. At least it isn't mine.
We have choices. We always have choices. And if something causes you pain, choose something else.
When we go to McDonalds, we give the boys an option of ice cream or fries. Greyson always picks fries, and Parker always picks ice cream. Until lately, when Greyson started telling me, "One...two" when I asked.
"Do you want fries?"
"No," he says, "one-two."
"Ice cream?" I counter.
"Fries AND icecream?" I say.
"No, one- two" he responds.
I soon realized- he wants both, but he doesn't know the word and. He thinks that one or the other is the only option he ever has in life. He's so used to only being given one choice all day long- in therapy and in life. "Is it red or blue? Do you want water or juice? Under or over? A or B? Chocolate or vanilla?"
Greyson has no idea of the power of AND. Oh, the gorgeous and enlightening power of and. We can be serious AND silly. We can be Rebulicanny and Democrat-ish. Sad and happy, empty and complete, confident and insecure, all swirled into one. Powerful and weak. So often we think we are limited by simply one or the other, when we can actually have both. Life is like a multiple choice test, and sometimes, all the answers can be correct.
And now, sometimes Grey gets both, to show him how good and is. I can't wait to teach my boys that they have options, and so often- most importantly- more options than the ones that they are given. We are only limited by the choices we make, not the choices we are given. And we can almost always choose an and.