A Day in the Life
I have a LOT to think about, but I just want to talk about a little chunk of it
So tonight was rough at my house. Tempers flared. People were tired and grumpy. It happens. Everyone went to bed and I was left alone to think about it all. I decided to watch t.v. instead and knit a hat. A flattish one drawn up on the top like a drawstring purse, then seamed down the back. My second. Chloe came out for a drink. Ethan came out for a drink. Extra hugs all around to make up for some of the cranky. Then I started watching this show, not the one I was intending to watch, dealing with murder. I seek out stuff like that because it scares me so much but fascinates me, too. It is after ten and out comes Ethan, saying, "Please, if you love me at all, watch something else." So I switched it to Parenthood, which was what I was meaning to watch in the first place. I told Ethan to go to bed, but he said "You know, I figured out why I'm afraid of zombies." So, what could I do, I hit the pause button. Ethan said, "I am afraid of zombies because I am afraid of dying. " I said everyone is afraid of dying at some point. When I really think about the reality that I am going to die, I have a mini panic attack. It's so scary, and you know why? Because we are afraid of the unknown. Ethan pointed at me and said "Exactly!" and went on to say that the only people who know what really happens when you die, are dead, and they can't tell us. We discussed near death experiences and what people have said about the white light and feeling of peace, but that we really don't know if our life just snuffs out and that's it and we don't really notice because we're done and over, or if our soul/spirit goes on, and where it goes. Scary for sure.
Then Ethan says "So, I really like middle school so far. . ." and I say, "You really don't want to go back to bed right now, do you? ;-) " and he says no, not really. Here's the thing: He's 12. If he wants to talk to me about something that doesn't have to do with video games, then I'm going to listen. Chloe does this too. She saves the most interesting thing for the least convenient time, like just at bedtime, or right before we have to leave for school. But I listen to her, too, because even though she's only 9, AND she's a girl, she doesn't really like to discuss her feelings very often. Catch as catch can.
So Ethan tells me about each class, and what he thinks of the teacher, and sometimes what he's been doing, and what he likes about middle school in general (like that changing classes means you aren't stuck with the kids that drive you crazy ALL DAY, but just for maybe one or two classes). He tells me that in English ( I think?) he is writing about the advantages of being one's age. So he has to write three things that are good about being 12. His are: he gets to drink caffeine sometimes. He earns more trust from his parents. He gets to go to middle school. Huh. Who knew? :-) Then I insisted he go to bed because it is picture day tomorrow, and I want him to be awake. Brief lecture about making sure his growing out hair is out of his eyes and that he doesn't have to smile like an idiot but I really don't want to see that half smirk he's been passing off as a smile in pictures lately. And off he went. I like it when my children come talk to me like that. I feel like I might get one or two things right when they do.
In other news, my dad called me today. He's still in the rehab center, but he saw the dr. today. He said that since he has another appointment in 6 months he reckons they believe he'll live that long at least. :-) He sounded good. Someone came up to him and said "Ken, don't you think you should come inside? Ken??" but with a tone that said "You're coming inside now, buddy." and I thought "Listen nurse/aide/cna lady, he's 72 years old and capable of making decisions like "Should I go inside now." but I know that loss of total autonomy is a side effect of such places, and I believe they're doing him more good than harm. Also, my oldest sister, who I have been in contact with more since my dad's surgery than probably for the last 10 years sent me a text saying she'd been fired from her job. I sent back a bunch of encouraging and hopefully somewhat funny responses, but I didn't hear anything more so should probably call her tomorrow.
I have more, like what it feels like to be back in contact with my niece and nephew--the children of my dead sister--after years of not really knowing where they were or what they were doing. Maybe later. If you read the whole entry, I should send you cookies.
So tonight was rough at my house. Tempers flared. People were tired and grumpy. It happens. Everyone went to bed and I was left alone to think about it all. I decided to watch t.v. instead and knit a hat. A flattish one drawn up on the top like a drawstring purse, then seamed down the back. My second. Chloe came out for a drink. Ethan came out for a drink. Extra hugs all around to make up for some of the cranky. Then I started watching this show, not the one I was intending to watch, dealing with murder. I seek out stuff like that because it scares me so much but fascinates me, too. It is after ten and out comes Ethan, saying, "Please, if you love me at all, watch something else." So I switched it to Parenthood, which was what I was meaning to watch in the first place. I told Ethan to go to bed, but he said "You know, I figured out why I'm afraid of zombies." So, what could I do, I hit the pause button. Ethan said, "I am afraid of zombies because I am afraid of dying. " I said everyone is afraid of dying at some point. When I really think about the reality that I am going to die, I have a mini panic attack. It's so scary, and you know why? Because we are afraid of the unknown. Ethan pointed at me and said "Exactly!" and went on to say that the only people who know what really happens when you die, are dead, and they can't tell us. We discussed near death experiences and what people have said about the white light and feeling of peace, but that we really don't know if our life just snuffs out and that's it and we don't really notice because we're done and over, or if our soul/spirit goes on, and where it goes. Scary for sure.
Then Ethan says "So, I really like middle school so far. . ." and I say, "You really don't want to go back to bed right now, do you? ;-) " and he says no, not really. Here's the thing: He's 12. If he wants to talk to me about something that doesn't have to do with video games, then I'm going to listen. Chloe does this too. She saves the most interesting thing for the least convenient time, like just at bedtime, or right before we have to leave for school. But I listen to her, too, because even though she's only 9, AND she's a girl, she doesn't really like to discuss her feelings very often. Catch as catch can.
So Ethan tells me about each class, and what he thinks of the teacher, and sometimes what he's been doing, and what he likes about middle school in general (like that changing classes means you aren't stuck with the kids that drive you crazy ALL DAY, but just for maybe one or two classes). He tells me that in English ( I think?) he is writing about the advantages of being one's age. So he has to write three things that are good about being 12. His are: he gets to drink caffeine sometimes. He earns more trust from his parents. He gets to go to middle school. Huh. Who knew? :-) Then I insisted he go to bed because it is picture day tomorrow, and I want him to be awake. Brief lecture about making sure his growing out hair is out of his eyes and that he doesn't have to smile like an idiot but I really don't want to see that half smirk he's been passing off as a smile in pictures lately. And off he went. I like it when my children come talk to me like that. I feel like I might get one or two things right when they do.
In other news, my dad called me today. He's still in the rehab center, but he saw the dr. today. He said that since he has another appointment in 6 months he reckons they believe he'll live that long at least. :-) He sounded good. Someone came up to him and said "Ken, don't you think you should come inside? Ken??" but with a tone that said "You're coming inside now, buddy." and I thought "Listen nurse/aide/cna lady, he's 72 years old and capable of making decisions like "Should I go inside now." but I know that loss of total autonomy is a side effect of such places, and I believe they're doing him more good than harm. Also, my oldest sister, who I have been in contact with more since my dad's surgery than probably for the last 10 years sent me a text saying she'd been fired from her job. I sent back a bunch of encouraging and hopefully somewhat funny responses, but I didn't hear anything more so should probably call her tomorrow.
I have more, like what it feels like to be back in contact with my niece and nephew--the children of my dead sister--after years of not really knowing where they were or what they were doing. Maybe later. If you read the whole entry, I should send you cookies.