Interesting week.

It is nothing if not interesting around here. Sometimes that’s good. Sometimes not so much.
On Wednesday we buried someone very important to us. He passed away a few months ago, but his loss is still felt daily and while I suppose these rituals are designed to bring closure, I didn’t get that. Just the re-opening of a wound.
That man loved my babies, so in a way the following update is fitting in that we got the news the same day as his internment.
Baby girl is fine. No longer under a doctors care for FTT, and happily chugging along. She’s still little, and will likely always be on the small side, but her progress, however slow in comparison to others, is a vast improvement from before, and it’s nice to be following the milestones like all the other mamas. She’s talking back with attitude. And I understand every word. He would be thrilled. Rest in peace dear man.

We are done junior kindergarten. One year done, 13 more to go. So proud of everything the wee man has accomplished, and how far he has come. Summer is on its way and I’m excited to see what’s ahead. I seem to be working a lot lately, but we’ve pulled a camping trip together for the Canada day long weekend. Long overdue time with the family. Funny how quickly the priorities get sorted when you are pulled in so many directions.
Cheers for now!

An unwelcome education.

I’m struggling here. Bear with me. It’s hard to write when your mama bear instincts are so overwhelming, but perhaps that is when you are most honest. I don’t expect everyone to agree, or even understand, but this is my place to write so please be forgiving of my lack of grace.
I have a sensitive child. I don’t know why he’s a sensitive child, and part of me, the smaller part, wishes he was that rough and tumble kid. He wants to be – and it breaks my heart that he isnt-only because he is sad. He wants to be the fastest, the best, he wants to be invincible.
The other kids, the bigger, older kids, they push. And shove. And laugh. Not at every kid, but at some. They are not kind, or empathetic, or thoughtful, and while I can chalk 70% of it up to lack of development and age, damnit I saw first hand today that I can find the rest in their adult family members!
Make no mistake, I want to smack those little pipsqueaks. But mama bear shows up when the bully’s grandma manhandles my boy. DONT FUCKING THINK SO. It doesn’t matter whether he objected or not-he’s not confident enough to stand up for himself so he just deals-but I WILL NOT let you touch my child in any way other than a hug. I will STOP you. I don’t like making waves and if it wasn’t the end of the year and the promise of no return (off to grade one you go psychos!!!!!) I would be in that office faster than you could blink.
I can’t fully describe how very angry i am. The physical desire to punch something to release it is unnerving.
We have so many uphill battles in life, can’t you see that face on him, his discomfort, and think “maybe he needs something, or maybe I did something” or maybe just send him to his mom four feet away. Let her deal with it!
This is where I struggle. I don’t want to solve his problems. I do want him to toughen up, I want him to be equipped to handle life’s battles. But I can’t let someone break down my four year old. I want him to be a kid! For as long as he can! And I want grown fucking adults to see a struggling child and help him. With a gentle, firm, safe place to go when the asshole 6year old turns on him.
I want my kid to look forward to school. I want his problem solving, reactions to conflict or negativity of any kind, to be moderate. The high intensity in which we live now isn’t fair to him, his family, his friends, and it’s no way to start a life. I want him to be happy. Not happy enough.