Drop it Like it’s Hot

Unfiltered as a conspiracy theorist radio host, my kid’s processing and insight level are basic. “I didn’t like her,” she responded in her cute-kid-pitched voice. Fearing meanness by the teacher or some other oversight the mother bear in me readied to rear up. But instead was humbled, “She had those dots all over her face. Like nipples.”

Freckles and moles, got it Evelyn. So, now what? The life lesson to teach her is that people come in all different shapes and sizes and facial marks, and that is not a reason to not like them. Do I pull up images of people on the internet? To help guide her through all sorts of physical colors, disabilities, deformities that she may someday see and that is not the reason to not like.

Now, if they take your toys, sure then you don’t have to like them!

Manically I pressed the button on the dishwasher. Nothing. No lights, no response, nothing. Hearing Archie thud against the front door, I continued to push. Something told me to leave it, to give it a break. So I did, walking over and opening the door to the frigid blast of winter air, the cool coated Archie’s fur brushed against my hand.

A little break. That’s all. And when I returned, that dang dishwasher had settled, as had I and its button lit up, ready to start its cycle.

When the gears jam I’m definitely a pusher. I will squeeze and jam and finagle until I’m blue in the face and sweaty. In childbirth, I pushed the whole time with every fiber of my being, and it was only later I learned that relaxing, allowing the contractions to do their job until the final major push was also an option.

How do I let go when I’m in the middle of gnashing my teeth? It feels impossible especially since if I let go of control, who’s at the wheel?

Letting go is scary. And yet also necessary.

Our far too big bean bag rests at the foot of our bed. With little use in the basement, I had Dave help me trudge it up here. On it now is Evelyn with her light-up pillow casting different colored stars on the ceiling. She’s sleeping up here.

Our moments with her like this are fleeting. Each day is one day closer to when nights like these when her little noises, and silly questions won’t fill the room. So I try to say yes more than no and balance the time I need for myself with time for us to attach and connect.

I love that we dance together. That I pull her in and out, twirl and dip her. It’s the basic country swing I enjoyed on the dance floors during college, and now I get to share it with Evelyn. She’s good too. Perhaps we can watch a video and find a move to add to our repertoire.

Well, with my fingers the only sound in the room, as Evelyn’s heavy sigh and yawn may signal the end of her day, I better end mine as well. My sleep quality has been a little less than I’d like, as noted by my sleep app.

Take care, and remember to let go from time to time. Love, Jaclynn.