Firsts, Lasts, and Always

So this past week, there have been a lot of lasts. The last night  at the apartment. When Ray came into the kitchen, he kept opening cupboards and saying “Oh no, all gone.”  The last day/night with Brian before he went in, which was very emotional. I fell apart a little bit, but that’s only to be expected.

Then there are the firsts. The first time Ray saw the moon during daylight hours. The first commute to day-care, where we talked the whole way. He can now recognize a cow and say the word and knows that cows say “moo”.

There’s the first time in a long time that I’m not feeling stressed out and unable to cope. I feel safe. I feel valued. Sometimes Brian forgets how to do that, and when he’s stressed it’s completely lost. But my Daddy, he knows how to listen. Which is all someone really needs.

There’s the first time Ray woke up early and I took him outside. He chased down birds in the back yard, having so much fun at 6am it should have been illegal. Or the snails that he saw on the grass this Sunday morning, watching as they blazed their trail across the lawn.

The words that are coming fast and furious now. I know now that I say “cool” too much because my son now says it. Pop-pop, I love you. Lots and lots of words and phrases being born in his brain.

The first Saturday morning when Uncle Leonard came over and mentioned to Mommy that yes, it was now Ray’s time of sword and sticks and I needed to channel it in a good direction. The t-ball set promptly went up.

The first sleep over at Dad’s with Auntie Gacca. Playing outside, having fun, blowing bubbles all over the back yard.

There was my first morning, waking up at 5am just like my mom, so that I could have a little “me” time. Looking at the roses, watching the sky pinkning up, the birds singing and winging through the yard  and always, always thanking God that my life is still so rich, so full.

Always.

SAD, SAD DAY

Just said goodbye– dropped him off and waited long after he’d faded into the system. “This is it,” I told him, tell myself. “Once this is done, your past is behind you. That Brian no longer exists. Lay him to rest while you’re there.” Easy to say, harder to live by.

That’s why I’m hiding. Hiding at Denny’s, of all places. Somewhere where no one knows me, really cares if my eyes fill with tears. Which is why they won’t. I do not cry in public if I can help it. Instead, I gather my resolve, put pen to paper and let it out. No one knows or cares about what someone else is scribbling across the back of their check stub.

This is merely the warm up. Tonight, the real show begins. The Mommy & Ray show starts playing again. And no mis-cues can be tolerated. The sakes are too high.

And yet, still, in this particular situation, I am the lucky one. Because I was able to witness Ray’s conversation with the moon last night.

Count Down

The day after tomorrow is M day. Moving, moving moving…

Sigh. SO much left to do and so little time. My stomache is cramping up with worry. I feel horrid. Hopefully, this will go away on Sunday, when I am officially the organist for church for a little while ( a month and a half maybe).

Oh wel. I hope they really like the 3 songs I know.

Hehehe

Stability

Not that anyone is reading, but…. The move is on for Saturday. Brian will be with us until next Wednesday, then I begin my life as a single mom living with her dad.

Again.

Sigh.

The good thing about it is that we, Ray and I, will have stability. Stability. I love that word. The curving hiss of the s, the sigh of the a, the soft “buh”, and of course ility is fun no matter how you slice it. The word is full of contradictions which serve to balance it out.

Stability means a schedule, which Ray thrives on. Stability means being able to pay your bills off, and still have money left over for essentials like diapers, juice and of course, books.

Stability means not having to worry, or fret. Fret is another word that sounds like it is. Small and full of sharp, pointy edges. Worry just goes round and round, kind of like the action of worrying itself.

So. Things will be rough. And hopefully I’ll have more time for you, my dear readers…. But for now the box bug has gotten hold of me.

And I’ll try not to worry and fret.

Talk soon.

Wyn

Happy Mother’s Day

The church hold’s a Mother’s Day Tea the Saturday before M-Day every year. This is the fourth year I’ve attended. The first, I attended with Jane, very pregnant. The second, Ray was growing, and Jane and I were there together again.

Last year was rough. I ended up a neurotic, crying mess. Jane didn’t come because she wasn’t feeling well. Of course, Dad was home with her. Brian was in the kitchen helping the other men cook for us, Ray was in the nursury with his Auntie Gacca, and I sat alone and miserable. Someone else even snatched Ray’s high-chair, so I couldn’t even have him eat with me…..

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.  Like I said before, I ended up crying. Missing my mom, Elaine, with a fiercness that shocked me. I was an emotional wreck.

There was one, bright, shining moment that made all the emotional mayhem worth it, though. Carol sang the Etta Jame’s song, “At Last.” I ran back to the nursury, grabbed Ray and brought him out with me to watch her sing and sway and dance to the music.

His jaw dropped when he first heard her singing. He has always loved music– classical, country, rock, pop… What ever I’ve thrown at him. But he had never heard a person singing like that in real life before.

This year, I had lower expectations for the tea. I didn’t expect to really have fun, make any connections… Just maybe a little fellowship, a little break from the day to day. And at first, that’s exactly what I got.

I sat in-between two groups. At first, I felt… out of place. Like I didn’t belong. Even though I am a mommy, everyone else was paired up. Except for me. Then I caught M.E.’s sense of humor, and it is so like my own that I nearly wet myself a couple of times. And I talked with G, a lot. More than I ever have before. So much so, that I ended up feeling as if I had come to the tea with her and Y. Connection made.

I shared the story wof “At Last” with Carol a few weeks ago. This year, as some of the door prizes, she made CD’s of her music, and THE SONG was on it.  But even better, she sang it again. And once again, I went and grabbed Ray. His jaw dropped. He ran up and grabbed her hand and danced between us, her holding his left, me his right. He was entranced. Mesmerized.

At last, I’ve found my way.

Happy Mother’s Day Mommy, I hope it was a grand one.

Wyn

Changes they are a coming

So. I am getting ready to move out of my little apartment. Ray and I are going to go and live with Dad for a little while.

Ok. I’m lying. It’s probably going to be a long while.

In a way, I’m dreading it. Getting Ray used to a new home, a new routine, life without his daddy… Well, it’s going to be hard. And I can’t just foist him off on other people. I’m his Mom. This is my responsibility. No one elses. Except, maybe, Brian’s.

But there’s a lot that I’m looking forward to. I love talking with my dad, love being around him. And I think this will be good for him too. He’s admitted to having some issues with depression lately. He’s a people person. Which makes sense– he’s one of my favorite peoples.

And lets not forget the back yard. Oh thank heaven. I’m really really looking forward to coming home from work, feeding Ray, then throwing him in the back yard and letting him run off his energy. Bath-time, then bedtime. Yay!

The only part I’m really dreading is the transition. Ray is a high-octane type of child. Dad is 83. Here’s hoping Dad’s patience and love and kindness don’t desert him, and maybe even rub off on the little ‘un.

So. The month of May is going to be moving month. I may not be writing as much this month, but you’re going to be in my thoughts. Keep us in yours, too.