Helping You’s The Right Thing to Do

As Monday takes its own crazy pace I’m still mentally wrapping up the weekend and its lessons for W. and J.   Every day presents a lesson, if only we look for it.  Sunday’s lesson was about being flexible, and true to the mission.  Unfortunately we didn’t go snowshoeing largely with icy conditions with recent thaws/freeze-ups that dictate extreme caution on even super easy trails – and partly for other reasons.   There are always many reasons for counter-intuitive choices for families of special needs kids, really, as we juggle here with the Chores and Fun List (that’s the heading I write on my weekend Action Items List.  I write Fun as a little inside joke to myself, just like I wear my favorite SuperMom sweatshirt on the days I’m most stressed out).

But more importantly this weekend I really wanted to fulfill my last blog post, of giving each boy a moment for their Happy Place.   On Saturday despite my being a little sick of the motif we did dinner at Chitpotle, for W.   Beaming smiles ensued, and melted any doubts on my part that it was the right thing to do.

On Sunday we made time both for a wintry walk around a local lake AND more importantly for swimming pool time for J.   He’s often not as demonstrative with his feelings, so I wasn’t sure if he found his Happy Place in the pool or in the bag of chips at our little Super Bowl “party” here.  The swim also didn’t engender a good night’s sleep either, as J. and W.  were up well past midnight.   But I sat poolside watching the boys and hearing the strains of an old Carly Simon song “Loving You’s The Right Thing To Do.” Sounds corny, but I felt a rightness in the priority ranking of the weekend.   I didn’t get to the trails, but I got to my sons, and they got to me.

Trouble is, there’s still me lurking at the bottom of the pile of wants and needs.   While I’m happy W. and J. are happy, I need that soulful recharge too.   I get my fillup from more than just hiking trails.  Nowadays since I work from home, receive therapies for the boys at home, and am perpetually cleaning up/yeaning to be spiffing up the home, I’m frankly sick of the home.  The wilds are my spiritual release.  Daughter’s recent ski trip in the Alps makes me yearn all the more for newness and limitless boundaries not hemmed in by the need to care for others.

Truly I’m not bummed out today,  yet I’m mindful that especially with yoga class being cancelled,  my emotional bank account needs replenishing.  I’m 60% and not 100%.  Here’s a statement and a promise to the other special parents who read this – and you are special, even if you are parenting neurotypicals – that by the time of my next post, I will travel to some new venue by heart and by car – and it too, will be the self help that is the right thing to do.