head massage

There's scarcely any positive human touch in my life these days - being without a partner.  I do give my son lots of hugs, high-fives, snuggles, and tickles.  It's especially sweet when he gives affection back in his own way.

our books are here!

Our new books have arrived and I'm very happy to explore them.  

It will take some effort on my part to practice what's in the books with Little N, 

but the material is there to dive into.

from the Earth Child's Handbook - a moon phases wheel

Lots of activities like mobiles, recipes for clay, paint, and treats, coloring pages, dot-to-dot, and more.

from Peaceful Piggy Meditation - "They try to be loving and kind to all beings."

A gentle story about what meditation creates in a piggy's life 

and a couple of exercises to practice meditation with Little N. 

from Sitting Still Like a Frog - four faces of big emotions

A good one for me to read about mindfulness

and a CD with some exercises to practice with Little N.

Now to find the nooks and crannies of time for reading and practicing together. 

the wiggly tooth

It's been over a year since we lost a tooth around here.

But we've got one wiggling away right now.

We'll keep you posted!

Little N's (re)New(ed) Room

Ever since L moved out, Little N has been sleeping in my room.  We made a nest for him next to my bed.  It's a clutter of pillows, afghans, plush pals, and random toys (beside my own clutter of afghans, pillows, and pjs).  Each night we'd chat, maybe have a story, or I'd simply listen to him talk to himself, processing the events of his day out loud.  It was nice to be together that way every evening.  But it's been 5 months of having a roommate and now that Little N is 6 (SIX!) it seemed time for him to move back into his own room.   

Our beloved Miss A had the idea to brighten up Little N's room with twinkle lights on the ceiling!  I climbed up on a chair and she handed me tacks as we spun a spiral of light together.  It's beautiful.  Miss A also thought we might make the bed more of a nest by tucking it up against the corner of the wall.  Then we piled up the pillows and blankets that coziness requires.

Little N came home from his dad's to this terrific surprise.  He loves his "new" room!  He immediately wanted me to lower the window blinds so that just the little lights brightened the space.  He set to work arranging furniture and had me drag his little red table back in from the living room.  Then we played being neighbors, he in his "home" and me in mine - our separate rooms with doors closed for knocking on - and made visits to each other's personal spaces.    

I wasn't sure how the first night was going to go.  Would he actually sleep in his room alone?  We read some books and chatted.  I scratched his back.  Then he snuggled down into his new nest.  He slept soundly through the night and it took great effort to rouse him in the morning.  Success.    

birthday selfie for mom

now we are six!

Happy Birthday to my Little N.

He's got this!

Saturday morning

I'm still recovering from a vulnerability hangover here.

a little reminder (for me & for you) about the Power of Vulnerability:

I am sad… that Little N has Autism

We had an important meeting this week at Little N's school.  It was his Special Ed reevaluation and Individualized Education Plan meeting where the school psychologist and Little N's teacher and in-school therapists discuss his current scores on their examinations of him with us, his parents.  We also planned the goals for his next year of school.  It was an in-my-face discussion of all the places where Little N continues to fall behind peers his age.

I was anxious and preoccupied leading up to the meeting.  When we first received the notice for reevaluation I was nervous.  Little N was thriving in the Special Ed class, what if they wanted to pull him out of it! Then we received his report card.  Little N was scoring below average in most areas of the report.  What if he never got out of Special Ed?  What if he could never hold a job, make friends, offer compassion to someone… the fears and questions took over.

During the meeting, I took notes on all of Little N's challenges.  They are painful to me.  It's as if Autism gets in his way of being him.  But then I also try to be pro-Neurodiversity.  I try to acknowledge and accept and advocate that there are many ways of being, perceiving, and expressing oneself in the world.  We've got a smattering of typical, acceptable ways to be in society but kids like Little N reveal more of what's possible.  Autism doesn't necessarily get in the way of him being him; it's part of him being him and part of what he offers his family, classmates, teachers, future employers, and all the folks that come in contact with him.

I put a good face on it on Facebook.  And it was a good meeting.  Little N is a joy to work with.  Each one of the experts in the room repeated that in one form or another.  They enjoy working with him.  He's eager, playful, fun, retains what he's learned, makes excellent progress.  And... he scores below average on all of their tests.

I brought all of this to my much-loved therapist.  "I'm sad," I told her.  She murmured understanding.  Then she asked me, "How sad do you feel?"  I couldn't answer.  I need time to sit with myself and just feel all the emotions tangled up in my son's Autism.  She could have said, "It's not all about you."  But she didn't.  Because my feelings about my son's challenges are about me.  I'm allowed to feel sad sometimes, even as I get to be encouraging and curious and supportive a lot of the time.

I have some sense of where the sadness comes from.  My grief that the perfect, typical boy I thought I had is gone, along with all my unarticulated dreams and expectations for him.  My memory of the close relationship between grades and self esteem: A means I'm awesome, D means I'm dumb.  What could "below average" possibly mean in that matrix?   My fear of the world out there, of cliques and cruelty, where there is very little room for someone different.  My pervasive doubt that I can in any way equip him for that world and the challenges that await him there.

It was a good meeting.  Little N is a joy, to me and to his team.  He is making progress that all of us can see and celebrate.  Someday he will be mainstreamed into a general ed classroom.  I have reinforcements in the form of his team, and even those dreaded reports, to help me teach him the tools he needs for the days ahead.  All of this is true at the same time that my sadness is true.

stress

I am not myself.  I am over tired from nights of waking up and waking up again every couple hours.  Nothing in particular on mind just a feeling that bolts me alert for a moment.  I feel overwhelmed and defeated.  There's very little rest these days.

It's the stress of not-enough-money and no signs of more coming.  It's an amicable divorce gone tense and stilted.  It's full time caring for someone else, a little someone whom I love, that renders little time for caring for me in healthful, strengthening, soulful ways.  It's a stress that clouds the future until there isn't one, there's only today's challenges and fatigue.

My psychiatrist, whom I love, has added a sleep aid to my collection of meds.  I'm reluctant to take it.  I'm reluctant to add another prescription to my litany of daily medications.  I want to be healed, happy, and whole.  I want to be off of the meds and standing on my own.

I try to remember to treat myself and to talk to myself the way I would a much loved friend.  This is a phase of the divorce.  This is an adjustment to my daily life with Little N and now his beloved babysitter too.  The self care starts in my head where I must practice encouragement and patience.  There will again be hopes and dreams.  There still are bright funny friends to share my life with even if not as one partner.

And there is this bright funny little man, trying on our new life with me.  

self portrait Saturday: Whole30 so far

no miracles, but my rings fit comfortably now, and slide on and off easily

the stiffness in my spine and post-baby-right-hip have lessened, and I've lost 5 lbs.  

a nice beginning. 

 in less nice news, tensions are rising in the divorce

we struggle, I think, to keep Little N's well being at front and center 

as we navigate egos, emotions & expectations

I don't have any answers for that today. Today, I'm tired, angry and sad about it all.

Little N continues to be a bright light. 

self portrait Saturday: single mom Saturday morning

kiddo's construction zone - the galley is closed

another sinkful of dirty dishes

overflow of compost

& garbage

kiddo's nest beside my bed (ok, that's cute & cozy)

I'm tired again before I've woken up

once upon a time Saturday morning was a calm before the storm of weekend activity.  

now it holds a storm of housework - that just isn't kept up with during the week.  

gratitude Sunday: the little pauses

This weekend I'm catching my breath in the overwhelm of single mom-ness.

Little N went to his dad's on Friday so I got a little time to hang out with Miss A - and she introduced me to Netflix streaming and Call The Midwife (love!) (I signed myself up Saturday and started watching immediately).  Little N missed me so his dad brought him home Saturday morning.  It was a grey downpour day.  I managed to get some chores done while kiddo watched Tangled (4 times in a row?) (funny & exciting Every Time!), practiced his writing, and crashed around out on the deck.  L came back to get Little N Sunday afternoon for a few hours giving me a little more time for Call The Midwife and some batch cooking for my greatly anticipated Whole30.

I don't expect there's some great relief coming to me.  I expect that these little pauses are what I can hope for and rest in and savor when I get them.  I do experience these odd waves of emotion in the quiet hours alone.  A feeling that says something like, "I shouldn't have to do this alone.  I should have a partner in this."  This being parenting, at least, and maybe life as a whole.  But in these same alone pauses, which I am grateful for, I also know that I'm not alone.  Little N is with his dad.  I am connected to friends and family near and far who care and are thinking of me and Little N as we make our way through this.  It's not the same as a partner.  It's not the same as a best friend next door.  But it matters and I find myself counting on it.  Just as I've come to count on these little pauses.

Hello Kitty

I was coerced into buying someone this Hello Kitty tote bag.  

I intend to be that open-minded gender-neutral mom.  So when Little N started asking questions about the Hello Kitty display in the store I went right along with him.  "Oh, would you like this little Hello Kitty bag?"  "No, I want the big one."  And surrounded by my own best intentions, I found myself picking the tote up off of the display, checking the price tag ($25!), and handing it to him in the cart. He was so pleased to hitch the handles up onto his shoulder and walk home carrying it beside me, me with my plain black canvas tote hitched up over my shoulder.  The next day his dad came to pick him up for the afternoon.  "Dad!  Look at my bag!  It has a CAT on it!"  And his dad was excited with him too.

Seriously, though, $25!  I'm a sucker for my best intentions.  At least kiddo is still excited about it.

gratitude Sunday

I'm grateful for cultural changes that grant a little more acceptance and breathing room to divorce and alternative family structures (at least where we live in Seattle).

This afternoon, L showed up to have some time with Little N.  They're off to the beach on this cool overcast day.  I'm home puttering around, putting the place in order for a new week, thinking my own thoughts (rather than caregiving & disciplining thoughts).

For me, right now, time with L is kind of stressful.  We're not together anymore because we don't really dig being together.  But I do it, like yesterday's site seeing trip, for Little N's sake.  Is it really in his best interest I wonder?  One more question to navigate as we step deeper into new routines and patterns of relating.

I'm grateful to be able to dissolve a mismatched marriage.  I'm grateful for a former partner who is committed to his son and seeks involvement in his young life.  I'm grateful for the time, the support and encouragement of friends, the love of our son, to figure this all out a step at a time.

self portrait Saturday: family time

Little N & Mommy

Little N & Daddy

3 of us boarding the monorail

up front with the driver

Space Needle ahead!

It's been a bumpy week as our family transitions continue to take shape and take hold.  Little N acts up in school as well as most evenings before bed.  Nearly every day he asks me where his dad is.  His dad is mostly living his life alone in a large apartment and a part time night job.  L takes care of Little N every day after school and they pick me up from work in the evening.  It's a pretty tidy arrangement that keeps the two of them connected and provides needed childcare.  But still Little N has regular questions and big emotions that he and I are walking through together.    

We're pretty tired tonight, or I'd write more.  Thanks for reading.  We're coming through this slow, heavy phase with lots of light and lots of love, due in large part to the kindness of our friends.  

learning how to be friends

gratitude Sunday: his sleeplessness

peeking into his room I discover he is, again, not sleeping

instead he is building a farm (see the tractor) narrating his work

and singing little made up tunes as he goes

on these odd, freshly alone, nights, he is my good company

even as I tell him, "get back in bed!"

gratitude Sunday

sunflowers chosen by Little N

gratitude Sunday: this is August

I have been dreading August.  The long limbo month before L moves out, N starts school, "our place" becomes "my home," and I invoke new habits and values and patterns for my home.  Then I made a list (which quickly became three lists) of all the things that need to get done before those changes can happen and suddenly August was more boon than bane.  Rather than hovering in limbo, waiting, passive, there's a lot that I can (must, need, want to) do.  That actually feels better to me.

While a lot of the "to do lists" are seemingly endless forms (hello divorce) and phone calls & emails (hiya kindergarten at a new school) there's plenty that I can do in our home these days.  Little N and I have started composting.  He loves checking into our little bucket of stinky scraps and trucking them down to the big bin in the garage.  We've also started making smoothies in our brand new blender.  Little N would like us to start using strawberries.  I'm intent on getting him to brush his teeth twice a day, instead of our standard evening cleaning.  And Dharma school (a story for another time) for both of us starts at the Buddhist monastery next Sunday.  Good healthful changes with no delay.

There's good in our life that remains unchanged.  Little N and I continue to soak up sun at the beach and around town all weekend long.  We are still bonding in a way, and in ways that we didn't when he was an infant and I was under the long dark spell of postpartum depression.  Bonding happens again and again, through care and good habits and simple time together.  We have our own rhythm now.  I love that.  I realize, writing this, that I'm bonded through the same kinds of things - care, habits, time - with his dad.  Little N does come from a family of love.  The details and dynamics have shifted in major ways over the years for me and L.  But we share a bond, mostly around our life with Little N, and that bond is still important and deserves to have significant influence in how our family proceeds.  For all of this and more, I am grateful for this August.

self portrait Saturday: family time

What the heck does it mean to put Little N first in the midst of a divorce?  

I barely know and I'm clinging to every little clue that my brain can assemble.  

We had a Family Meeting on Monday night and told Little N that Mommy and Daddy were going to live in separate homes.  Daddy will be moving out to a new place.  Little N got it and got excited about having a new home.  Two homes!  This is great!  So far so good, I think, and hope.  But I wonder what it will be like when Daddy moves out in another month, and has a roommate, and Little N is camping out on the floor of Daddy's room.  He might really get into it.  He might refuse to settle down and demand to come home to his own bed.

Another piece of our plan for putting Little N first is Family Time.  Regular outings or events, in addition to holidays and birthdays, where we get together all three of us.  This has started even now, when we are all in the same home, because we are so infrequently doing the same thing together.  We don't even eat together.  We've been a disjointed family for a while now.  The differences between L and I just seeped into everything.  But we want Little N to know he comes from and is part of people that love him.  He has a pod.  We are with him and on his side, no matter what else.

The most challenging for me is the most subtle and perhaps the most influential.  I need to be careful about how I talk about L, how I think about him, and the attitude I bear about him.  I wonder if that will get easier when he and I are in separate homes and out of each others' space.  Right now, I feel like I'm stretching out of the confines we built, one way or another, in order to live together peacefully - the constructs of compromise, of habit, of ignoring the differences, of tamping down irritation, of underestimating the gaps between us.  And it's good to stretch and to own those things that have so long endured belittling and lack of attention.  But I need to do it mindful of how that bears on Little N.  I don't get to show my irritation.  I don't get to pull further away.  I must speak and express myself with respect, complete attention, and gentle body language.  I don't need to lie, but my truth must be compassionate.

This is all so unknown and impossible to predict.  We do our homework and make our plans and step into them, still mostly blind.  Yielding to our love of our son, to a gradual understanding of what he needs from us in order to make what is right for Mom & Dad also right for him.