Saturday, January 28, 2017

Stupid, Fucking Day But Still There Is Reason To Go On


It's been a day.
And just about the best thing in it is that curl on Maggie's head. Lily said it's been there since her bath last night.
I sang, "There is a little girl, with a little curl/right in the middle of her top-head./And when she was good she was very, very good/ and when she was bad she was horrid."

Maggie likes to be sung to, as babies do. I make up songs to sing to them. "Maggie June is sweet as a spoon/ of honey."
And so forth.

Right. So.
Owen refused to play at the game again today. It caused him huge, huge unhappiness. He loves basketball and talks about how excited he is about it and then, when it comes time to get out on the court in the gym, he just can't do it. Is it the people watching? Is he afraid to make mistakes? He says he's scared. It's heartbreaking. And we don't make him play nor does the coach. Getting him to just sit with the  team is almost more than he can bear.
I think he's not socially ready. He is who he is. And I also think that he's going through a lot of stuff right now that he doesn't necessarily talk about but which he most certainly is experiencing. He knows we're worried about his seizures. He knows it's sort of a big deal, although he says it's not.
He's seven years old.
I don't think he needs any more pressure on him right now.

I looked at him, miserable across the gym, standing up against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his skinny chest, his face a mix of mad and sad and scared and defiant and all of it my Owen. All of it the face of my very deepest heart.

When the game was over, his mama had to get to work and his daddy took him and his sister and his brother in his car and we all told him we loved him and he said he didn't want to talk about basketball and we all went our separate ways.

I remember when being the mother to small children was overwhelming and sometimes I'd think what all parents think- eighteen years. What a stupid thing to think.
It's been forty years for me and my heart breaks just as badly for the hurt of my grandson as it ever did for the hurts of my own children.

This is what it is to be human.

And then I went to Joanne's Fabrics just to look at material and patterns and as I walked around the store I realized that I was having one of those ocular migraine things. The shimmering halos.
Ugh. Ugh.
I went out to the car and just sat for about forty-five minutes until it passed. I don't really get the headache, thank god, but still. It's disturbing.

I finally started up the car when my vision was cleared and finished my errands and came home, my head not hurting but feeling dull and spacey, flat and as dense as the heavy gray sky. The news is so awful. As bad as I thought Trump would be, I never could have imagined that he would twist our country the way he has in eight short days with his evil, insane executive orders.
Someone has to stop him.
How do we stop him?
I am terrified.

It's been a day. A day of gray and of cold and of rough edges and no answers to questions that catch and tear the mind and heart like the jagged edges of a cold, gray rock catches and tears the skin.

This, too, is what it is to be human.

But. Here are the good things:

Maggie's curl.

The way she holds her face to me so I can kiss it so softly, a hundred times.

My heater, which is working fine now, all fixed and blowing clean, I would assume, instead of dirty.

Three eggs I found today. One regular size, two tiny. I think that Dottie laid the big one, Darla definitely laid one of the tiny ones (I know because I caught her just leaving the nest in the pump house and there was an egg, small and as warm as her own body), and one from Violet, I think.

The cardinals, the blackbirds, the robins.

The pale hawk I saw, dipping over the highway as I drove.

The resisters.
The protesters.

The knowledge that even though all of it seems so overwhelming now, so frightening, so terrifying, so wrong and so unbelievable, the darkness cannot prevail.

Bless us all.

Love...Ms. Moon







27 comments:

  1. Jonah had the same experience when he was playing baseball--which he loved and which he was really good at. My heart broke watching him cry on the field, watching his (bad) coach force him to play, and his good coach let him sit. Strength to Owen, who surely is going through a lot.

    And strength to all of us to withstand whatever is to come, and to resist in whatever way we are able. From the frigid North in Michigan this weekend, much love.

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    1. And much love to you.
      I think that Owen just needs another year before he feels comfortable on the court. Who knows what goes on in our boys' minds?

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  2. Oh Owen, my heart. I hope it all works out as it should and he emerges from this feeling stronger and triumphant - whatever the outcome. So glad that everyone is understanding.

    And I get it. I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE any kind of performance.

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    1. We can't all be Leo's. Haha!
      He'll survive this. I am sure. And he'll know more about himself, whatever the outcome.

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  3. Owen, poor little man child. When I was Owen's age I tried competitive sports. I hated it. Hated is not even a word that came close to how I felt. Oh, Mary. I would wet myself it was so bad. The expectations. The ball being thrown around. The bodies running. The noise. It was completely fucking overwhelming to the highest degree. But everyone else seemed to be doing it and AND having fun so I kept trying. In the end, I found swimming. It was quiet, no balls being thrown at my head and nobody around me. Perfect!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes. We are all meant for different things. Thank goodness.

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  4. I feel the burden on your heart. It will lift. I promise. Owen is on his path. That beautiful child. Things are a little hard for him right now, but he is held with. And he knows that.

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    1. He does know that. I just don't want him to feel bad about himself- as if he's let us down. I need to keep letting him know that he couldn't if he tried.

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  5. Ah, Owen is just not quite ready and he is so blessed that everyone understands this and allows him to be who he is. A lucky child he is to be so loved.
    The news...... I am horrified beyond belief. How can one person fuck up SO much in a mere week? I am ashamed, very sad and heartbroken.......no words to truly convey how I feel but I know I am in good company here at your *home*
    Love and hugs
    Susan M

    ReplyDelete
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    1. He is loved. And we do understand. We are all so different and all undergoing challenges unique to our very own selves. I am so glad that he has a family who understands that.
      As to Trump- as I said, even I couldn't have believed the mess he's created in such a short time. It's demonic.

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  6. A federal judge blocked the ban on Muslims late today! Finally a tiny bit of good news.

    Poor Owen. Anyone that thinks childhood is all rainbows and happiness doesn't remember being a child. The world can be overwhelming when you're small. Actually, the world can be overwhelming no matter how old you get.

    ReplyDelete
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    1. You are so right. I think that childhood was far more painful for me than adulthood has been. FAR MORE.

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  7. "He is held with"... as 39 paddington so beautifully stated...
    It doesn't get more profound than that...
    And yes, Owen knows it!

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    1. He does know it. Deep in his beautiful little boy heart, he knows.

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  8. Surely the coach must have some experience with kids who are reluctant to play. I can see how it would be scary for Owen. I'd be scared too, playing in front of all those people! (Owen is probably a much better basketball player than I am, however.) I hope the coach can ease him into the experience -- maybe let him sit at games to get the feel of them, but play in practice sessions. Maybe?

    Trump. Ugh. I have no words and no answers.

    ReplyDelete
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    1. Well, we'll see if he goes back or not. One of the coaches seems more sympathetic. The other one, although he doesn't force Owen to play, is EXTREMELY invested in the whole thing. His kid is the star of the court, of course and he's not very laid back about it, either.

      Delete
  9. Is Owen afraid of having a seizure during a game? My heart hurts for him.

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    1. I've thought of that too, Joanne, but I'm not sure that's the issue. He's always been this way.

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  10. i was thinking the same thing about owen fearing having a seizure. glad you have understanding coaches who don't force it.

    xxalainaxx

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    1. I think, as I said above, he's just being the person he is, which is a person who has a hard time with new things, especially if they are in the public eye.

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  11. it could be that as much as Owen says he likes basketball, he is just not a 'team' sport kind of guy. my son wasn't.

    and yeah, things are getting awfuler by the minute.

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    1. And if this is true, he probably got it from me. Dammit.

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    2. Good thought, Ellen. My niece's son son never engaged in team sports, but has a bedroom of fencing trophies. He just graduated high school.

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  12. Thank you for posting Maggie's picture with the curl. I'm going to bed now and am catching up on your blog. The news is driving me insane, so I am going to concentrate on that curl and the expression on her little face.

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  13. Hey - Owen has so much time to play basketball. He doesn't have to go feel sad and mad and bad once a week to get there. He will. I think you guys are right, let him go to it, don't push it.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.