The following day, after my motherinlaw died so dramatically,
my two and a half-yearold son Linus-Ferdinand, had his first day in kindergarten.
Nothing like a good contrast. Life goes on. However much one can´t stop onself from crying in the grocery store. Which in many ways is a good thing.
Not the crying, necessarily, but the being forced to continue living as if things still were ordinary, as if things were in order. Life carries on. And proves to you that you can indeed carry on. Even when you feel sure that you can not. There is relief in having to focus on something earthy, some task that demands your attentive presence. The waves of sorrow take a break.
We are so lucky with our kindergarten. My daughter, now four and a half, went there too, in the young-ones-area, before she moved over into the group for older children. She never EVER actually shed a single tear when I left her there. She barely had time to say goodbye.
Not so with my son.
He absolutely does not want me to leave. He really likes all the people there, and the toys, the music playing, fruit eating, their tiny little toilet… and especially the outdoors playground, with a shed full of bikes, police cars and other way kool things to ride.
He just wants me to stay there with him. Available.
So far I have stayed the first hour or two. First day I didn´t leave him at all. Next day for half an hour only. He is big enough to understand I will be back. He´s helped deliver his sister in kindergarten ever since he was born. But all kids are eased gently into this group. They are great at taking it slow, allowing each child´s different needs to be considered.
I´m just looking forward to when he stops holding onto my clothes, screaming, when I tell him I will leave now. As soon as I´m out of sight, of course he stops the protesting. As he realizes it is futile, he´s lost the battle, mom did go. Outside the closed door I pause, relieved to hear his crying stops after half a minute.
He is my third child. My two daughters have been far more robust than him. More independent. Or what words can fit this issue. My son is very… sensitive, but so are my daughters. He´s more… clingy…which sounds negative, but… I mean he´s very close to me, holds on to me, needs me physically close to a larger degree than my girls did when his age.
They do say that children are different. But it is actually hard to imagine my kids being different, before I have experienced it. They are treated similarly at home, hence they should be similar. Haha… I do know that statement is… incorrect. Of course. I´m just describing an emotional expectation. Every person is different. Siblings too.
I think it´s because a we do not consist of genetics and cultural upbringing only. We are born with… a soul. We are souls, born into human bodies. We are not empty at arrival, filled and formed by life. We are already complete beings at birth. Call it soul or call it something else. Consciousness, for example. We each bring our individual consciousness with us.
Our family of five were on a plane home from Spain this easter. At take off, as my son felt the plane lift from the ground, he said “Me scared!” That adjective is amongst his first fifty words or something like that! I was so surprised. My daughters are never scared. Apart from that time I took my then 3-yearold firstborn into a “ghost train” ride in an amusement park. Big mistake. She jumped around my neck as soon as our cart entered the darkness, and didn´t see a single glimpse of it, she just heard scary voices of witches and skeletons, and her mother going “It´s not dangerous, dear… it´s only theatre, you know, like your films at home…. oh look there´s a puppet that looks like a witch, oh those red dots in all that smoke are not eyes, darling, their just little red torchlights made to look like scary eyes…” Poor child. Stupid mother.
I just didn´t realize she would be that scared. It took months and months of reading a library book about a girl who found a ghost house in the woods and wasn´t afraid no matter how much the monsters tried to scare her…. we read that book for months on end, discussing that ghost train ride several times a day, the noises she heard, and how that witch above the door “spat” at us last thing before our cart came out into the sunlit safety again.
But apart from that.
Lately my son has gotten afraid of darkness. As he was outside at grandma´s the other week, and from the dark garage, his sister suddenly came running out. He keeps saying to everybody we meet: “It only a girl… eeeh Viola! eeeh dark! eeeh scared!” (He uses the “word” eeeeh to fill in his blanks).
Ever so cute. And he may be as he is, of course he may. And must. There will be no more little sibling after him either, so there is plenty of room on my lap and in my arms for him to seek shelter there. I will comfort him and talk him through things, as much as he needs. And then, suddenly, or rather, gradually, luckily… he will grow into a confident young man who won´t hold my hand in public anymore no matter how much I beg him to. So I will have to enjoy his need for me while I can.
There´s still one more hour before I go pick him up! And Viola. Who is next door, in the same building. Getting 3 hours off… is such a rare thing for me. Haven´t had that since… whilst pregnant in 2012. Last two months before he was born. Soon it will be four hours a day without my kids. Every day! Mindblowing.
Today I have spent one cd tidying the guest room, and organizing washing. Then I spent one programme of Dr.Phil having brunch. Commercial breaks spent tidying utensils back into kitchen, emptying dishwasher, restarting my netbook here, ready to write a new blogpost as soon as Dr.Phil was finished.
Love that guy. He helps a lot of people. Today he made a mother and a father realize they were guilty of child abuse and needed help. Dr.Phil helps a lot of children. He uses the television medium in a way I wish more people did. To spread important information on how to heal.
Some times he gets a bit moralistic. But not often. He is influenced by his cultural upbringing, as we all are. In those cases, I just switch off and return to watch him another day.
A whole hour more. I think maybe I will set my alarm clock,
go to bed with a good book, and have a catnap if it happens.
And so she did.