Bouncing back

Fire Island pics, courtesy E and his Iphone (P is the red dot in the landscape). For really great stories and shots, check out P's Amazing Aunt Alicia's blog: here and here !



I laughed my way through last weekend as my nearest and dearest (except my mom!) joined me for a weekend in the city. I know there are many that take a little vacay when their spawn is six months or so, but this was P's first foray away for an extended period. And even as he left our flat he reminded his Aunt B that he'd see her that very night. Cuz, tho he was piss-his-pants excited for his adventure with Papa and Sock Monkey, he was Not interested in spending the night away....

All I can share are E's brief reports. Had the child been with my mother (or, not to be sexist or anything, but any other woman I know) there would have been fabulous tales to regale ya'll with. As it is, I know the basics. The little man had fun :) He got wet. He collected sea shells and half a beach of sea rocks. He ate egg sandwiches and pasta. He was thrilled by his Aunt and Uncle, repeatedly. He put himself to bed the first night, telling E, "You go to sleep Papa, my body still has energy in it and I need to move around." He moved around, looked out the window, rinsed some shells and then climbed into his sleeping bag and went to sleep. He talked to Sock Monkey for four hours straight at one point. He greatly enjoyed an enormous two seater trike....

And that point in the weekend is where I came in. I called, as I had to :) It was Sunday and I hadn't spoken to the little man himself in 36 hours!!! E informed me they were riding some hunk of junk with three wheels, two seats and a bunch of happiness. I could hear P humming along in the background. And, quite honestly, though I was beyond content with my fem-tribe surrounding me, I burst into tears. P got on the phone and described to me the scene he could see. He ended with a "Mama, you HAVE to come here. Do you know why? Cuz its So Much Freakin Fun!" As I choked back a sob, I was astonished at the need to hold him. I was happy, he was happy, yet not being near him was physically uncomfortable.

He flew through the door the next day, smiley, sandy and sun kissed. (And bearing the largest bag of sea shells/rocks you have Ever Seen (massive kudos to E for schlepping the stuff all through a walk, ferry ride, bus ride, train to another train to a car service...)) P had handled the weekend with aplomb. Even shared a bed with his Father, forgoing his sleeping bag after the initial love affair ended. And I wondered. Would that be that? Could E and I alternate bedtime? Would I merely whisk out the door for my co-op shift, unfollowed by tiny toes? Wow....

Then, as we attempted to whisk out the door for dinner, E grabbed P's shoes to assist. "No, Papa, that's ok. Mama can do it. Mama," he called back into the house, "since you're here again, you get to put my shoes on me. Aren't you happy you're here to do my shoes again?"

And, as nice a reprieve as the weekend was, my lifelong friends and their lovely smiles, I could honestly reply, "Yes, P, I'm really happy to get to put your shoes on you again." And there it was. In that moment, his growth summed up. Happy when he moves forward, happy when he moves backward. Allowing the moment of helping him to wash his hands be a meditation in Now and Senses and Love rather than just a hurried splash. That touching his dirty little toes and holding his sweet little leg and silly-sandy shoe is a gift in time. His momentum towards independence is speeding up, and its fascinating to watch. And feeling the poignancy of four, the fleetingness of four, well, I think I'm done with weekends away for a while! I can hardly stand to miss a batted eyelash. Yesiree, I'm happy to get to do the shoes again :)