Postus Interruptus

I start so many more posts than I finish, or even attend to, and I want to be okay with that. My blog shouldn’t add a layer of obligation to my life- it’s supposed to be a helpful, joyful thing.

That said, let’s see if I can sneak some snippets of stuff into here:

•I missed my nephew’s birthday- he turned 9, and I haven’t acknowledged it in any way. I haven’t ever sent last year’s gift to him, either. I am so disorganized!

•I love my “husband”- he is a real gift in my life.

•I miss my husband- I wish I could recall more of his quirks to mind more readily. Yesterday, as Rob was leaning over the bathroom sink in shorts, no top and socks and slippers, I caught sight of his mid-section first. The body shape, posture, texture and pattern of hair, all said Willis to me- it was very disorienting to see Rob’s face on Willis- the mind is a funny creature that way. The socks and slippers were clearly characteristic of Rob, but the problem my poor, tired mind cannot solve is whatever would Willis have been wearing on his feet if it had been him? I absolutely cannot remember or picture it. And, much as I love Rob, I sometimes ache for one more hug with Willis- I love(d) him, too, and I never did get a final hug with him (lying my head on his lifeless chest in the trauma room doesn’t count).

•When I hug Rob, I get a powerful and profound feeling of “rightness” and “calmness”. We are clearly meant to be together, or at least, we clearly belong to each other. I love that a hug with Rob can often put my world to rights- how cool is that? (And Annie, just like with you and your Rob, it goes waaay beyond hugging. Note the title of this post? Bet you can figure out what interrupted this particular piece a couple of nights back... ;))

•The other day, I left Sam in the boy’s wear department, happily picking out some summer gear for himself, while Sydney and I were in the girl’s wear, a couple of aisles over. Turns out, Sam wasn’t actually paying attention to the fact that I had moved on, found himself alone, and got worried. He saw a cashier in the jewelry department, and thought about asking her for help, but was feeling a little too shy to go up to her. He took himself behind a rack of clothes, talked to himself reassuringly, then went up to her to ask for help. I was paged to pick up my “package” in the jewelry department, which I did with alacrity, and was able to greet my not-quite-grownup boy with a big hug. I’m so proud of him for overcoming his shyness and doing the right thing, and not panicking. I still believe that “free-range” (with shades of “attachment”) parenting is absolutely the best style for me, and my kids do okay with it, too, which is an added bonus.

•Sydney is a drama queen, and she is little, and the only girl in the family- this causes her issues sometimes:

•I think Girl wrote this: “The thing about recurring issues is that the better you get at spotting them, the better they get about subterfuge.  The same issues crop up constantly in our lives, in different guises, and sometimes it takes awhile to realize you’re dealing with the same old thing for the nth time.” I absolutely love this, which explains so exactly where I am in my life, and why I am talking with my therapist again. Tardiness, procrastination, avoidance, insecurity, self-doubt are constant issues, from childhood, and as I stand on the crest of my meno-pausal wave, I’d like to tame these issues a little. I’d like them to be familiar companions, rather than looming, scary monsters on the path beside me, as I walk/scamper/plod/skip down the road that is my life.

•Pretty soon, I’m gonna write my inner child a letter, as a part of the process of de-mystifying the terrors residing in my psyche. I know I can take really good care of folks, whether they be 5 or 41, two-legged or four-legged, and by writing that letter, explaining and demystifying some of the terrifying experiences of childhood, and reassuring her/myself that I can and will always be present with a calm, warm voice and a hand to hold in the dark, maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to turn the monsters in my background into pussycats at the garden gate.

•I’ll probably write a loving letter to Willis, too. His death was sudden and traumatic, if not entirely unexpected, and although I have worked through many issues and talked to him a great deal since his death, we all know how extraordinarily powerful the written word is as a way to move through emotion and come to a place of love, light and understanding.

•I’d better go get my car- they’ve changed this parking lot into a 30-minute limit, and I don’t need another ticket, do I?