Sunday, October 3, 2010

One funny and one serious post

Collin getting his haircut today.

Lately, the boys have been extremely cooperative and eager to attend church. I was thrilled thinking they couldn't wait to soak in the Word. After a couple of weeks, I began to realize that their excitement for church was directly related to the date they discovered donut trays sporadically displayed throughout the building.

Today, church was again met with excitement. As they entered Sunday School, no donuts were detected. I could see disappointment on their faces, but I think they were holding out hope that the donuts would arrive just in time for the next service.

After Sunday School, I escorted the boys out of the building. We passed by each location where donuts were usually served with no success. Finally, we arrived at the last location. This particular spot ALWAYS had donuts, it was a sure thing.

The boys ran to the buffet table. Immediately their excitement turned to disappointment. I heard Caleb say, "Oh no." I (with my mom) looked at the table. Where two large trays of donut holes usually sit, lay mounds and mounds slices! The boys were crushed. I could see their little minds working, "Couldn't you have at least served bagels? Oranges, really?" With heads hung low and empty bellies, they exited the church.


I wanted to share the above funny story, but this second post is for my own therapy. Caleb has been doing wonderfully for the last six plus months (with the occasional minor hiccup). I was again in that "He'll grow out of it" mode. I think I was even beginning to get a little smug in my parenting abilities. Of course, that's always when I'm humbled.

Caleb had a day that was a typical Caleb day one year ago. I received two negative reports on his behavior both with the same sentiments, "He couldn't calm down." Of course, it's funny when you talk to Caleb. He tells me everything went great and seems a little puzzled that anyone indicated a problem.

At the end of the night, when only Caleb was still awake, I knelt by his bed. He was laying underneath his sheets staring at the ceiling. I broached the subject of his day's behavior. He didn't want to talk about it. I pushed him to speak. He didn't have anything to say, and couldn't expand on his state of mind or the afternoon's events.

My hand was holding his, and I started to cry. I heard him say "go" repeatedly. I noticed as he was chanting "go," he was clutching my hand at the same time. It was as if he really didn't want me to leave, and I guess deep down I really didn't want to go. Then, a few tears were streaming down his face, forming a puddle on the sheets. We stayed like that for a few minutes: neither one of us talking, clutching hands, crying in tandem. Finally, I exited the room in silence.

He never did tell me what's wrong, and I think that's the thing that bothers me the most. It's the lack of understanding. I birthed him, I've known him almost every day of his life, I know him better than almost anyone, but I really don't know him at all.

I just don't understand.

1 comment:

  1. You are an incredible mommy and those boys are beyond lucky to have you. Thank you for sharing your heart with us Becky...Matt and I are aching for you as we read the story about Caleb. We love you and want to encourage you that you are doing an exceptional job with him and you do understand him more than you realize...we are on team Caleb!! XOXOXO