I’m sure that I’m not the only one finding my own children utterly charming. I have a friend who used to say:”Aren’t children amazing?” while gazing lovingly at her daughter climbing like a little monkey all over my furniture. And I would think, “Yeah, right!” I was childless and more than a little jealous and I thought to myself that MY child would never be allowed to use other people’s furniture as jumping mats. It is a bit more than five years later and of course the leather couch I was so protective over is now kept together by not much more than spit and a lot of dirt. My children have done far worse things to it than my friend’s child ever could.
In the same manner, my prejudices, my ideas on childrearing and my ego have been panelbeaten by three little boys. And I’ve come to regard the words: “my child will never…” as a sure invitation for my child to go ahead and do that exact same thing. In front of witnesses. Who heard me say, “My child will never…” and who will laugh and point that out to me.
Of course all of it is good. I’m less inclined to judge other parents and more inclined to notice the better traits of my fellow human beings. I know that the mother who seems to be losing the battle against her four-year-old in a shop may have had only two hours sleep last night. And that wars can be won by conceding some battles. I know that the worst thing that can happen to a seemingly out of control child is that they hurt somebody’s ears a little. And that their mother’s ego may feel a little bruised afterwards. Those things seldom kill. The same child who acted out so badly a few days ago, might even get a compliment from a little old lady in a china shop for being so wellbehaved around the fragile wares of the shop..
I know that a screaming child is very likely not abused, but tired and at the wrong place at the wrong time. Her mother will get from me only sympathy.
The mother carrying or pushing a disabled child is not to be pitied or judged or evaded. She needs love and support, just like you do, and if you take the time to get to know her and her child, you will get to know human beings just like yourself and your children.
Marco and Magnus are really starting to play together nicely. They are testing their boundaries around each other. The games are mostly chasing games which make no sense to me whatsoever. One minute one will be doing the chasing and in the blink of an eye, turn around and start fleeing. They seem to take everything in their stride and every evening the house is filled with the giggling of two little boys. Spitting is another favourite pastime as is throwing water. I’m learning speedily that in the matter of what is regarded fun or logical things to do, my opinion differ vastly from my childrens’ opinions.
I’m not allowed to punish Magnus in any way or Marco will intervene and chastise me for doing that to “his baby.” Of course Mr Magnus does not get off that lightly. He’s every bit as naughty as his brother at the same age and definitely more daring to boot.
Loren’s memory is still surprisingly strong as far as his older brother is concerned. We try to be natural about it – neither forcing the memories nor evading them. The other night Marco said something which made me think that he felt responsible for not looking after his brother the night of his death. Which is strange, because we never expected him to look after his brother. He mentioned watching a video – something I’ve forgotten about long ago – and said that he didn’t watch Loren and Loren died. I reassured him that even though we were all there and looking out for Loren, it still happened and that he was in no way responsible. Then he wanted to know how we could make it better. I asked him what he meant and he said he wanted Loren back. I answered that we couldn’t. But that we will all be together again one day.
The last month or so has been difficult for me. I’m just sad. So so sad. I seem to be past the stage where tears come. Mostly I can talk about him dry-eyed and coolly. But the sadness is a constant companion. I have learned to live, laugh and function around it. It remains – like a rock in my soul. The anniversary of his death is approaching and I can’t help but wonder at how much our lives have changed in the space of two years. How different it all would have been if he was still alive.
Peace with the situation is not so much acquired with time or with reasoning than with simply knowing that the status quo is all we have to work with. We are still lucky. We are still some of the more fortunate members of society. And to mope and moan about our situation would be to deny our many blessings.
