After work today, I went and picked up Punkin at his school. I walked in to find him standing on his cot, talking on a pretend phone. "Yeyo? Ya? Ya. Bye." He sees me, "Monna. Phone. My phone. Da phone." I suggest putting it away,"No, my work. Ya. Yes? Yeyo?" He hangs it up and puts it in the pretend kitchen. So we gather his stuff, which includes a fabulous paper plate cut in a swirly pattern with glitter on top. I'm hanging it in the bedroom for sure. Maybe the kitchen. Maybe.
So I'd like to complain some more about my shoulder. Cause my mom hasn't heard enough! The chiro says it's a tendon -- a common problem. It feels better when I leave the office and feels awful again approximately 5 minutes later after I deal with Punkin McPunkster.
Anyway, after I pick him up from school, we head over to his new school to hang out with his teacher. I dropped him off for about 20 minutes. He was fine at first. Gave me a funny look, but fine. About 12 minutes later, I went past the door and heard him screaming "Monna!" and trying to open the door. He sounded a teensy bit mad. Full meltdown mode. His teacher saw me through the window of the door and made sure I didn't come in. She wanted him to calm down first. They found me later, and he attatched himself to me like an industrial strength magnet. Turns out he got frustrated with a toy and lost it. All I thought was, "Well, at least he wasn't in trouble for hitting her!"
We then went to the Post Office, where a package has been waiting for about 4 days now. That, surprise surprise, was not a very happy experience. Too much waiting. Too many people. Too much mommy sore shoulder, which prevented her from holding him. Silly mommy.
Finally we arrived home to bond with The Incredibles. A short time later, it was time to brave socialization again at our church's advent supper and service. I almost turned the car around and drive home when he made himself vomit in the car, but I really wanted a church supper. (He makes himself throw up when he's stressed.) It was tacos, corn, and fruit cocktail. Not the vomit, the dinner. Pretty much a perfect menu. And the service was led by the middle schoolers, which was quite entertaining to Little Man at first. Much dancing took place on our pew. But after escaping the pew 3 times, reading Brown Bear Brown Bear to the congregation about 6 times, and taking his pants off, I decided I had given church my best effort and bowed out a little early. (I must say, though, that he took his pants off because he wanted to go potty--which he did.)
Feeling drained, sore, and slightly defeated, we walked outside hand in hand to find ourselves enveloped in the lightest, prettiest snowfall of the season thus far. I noticed it was snowing, but I didn't really see it until Punkin started spinning in slow circles and holding his hands out to catch the flakes. "Wow." And that's when a certain peace hit me. A much needed sense of okayness. It's also when I remembered the line from one of the children's songs, "Every day is a gift; that's why they call it the present." Kids are so darned smart sometimes.
I wanted to leave it on that happy note, but I just couldn't. Because in all fairness, every day is also sort of exhausting. But that's okay. Life isn't always rose colored. I just think we have to stop and listen when God is trying to ease the reality of hyper destructo stripper boy with gentle snowflakes.