Sprites and Spirits

 

I feel like they more than just love eachother. They get eachother. Thatcher's not talking yet but Tessa knows exactly what he means, she's his voice often. And yes, she sometimes resents it, they head butt and pinch and have screaming matches but mostly they're just buddies. They make eachother laugh. They whisper to eachother in the car, play hide and go seek, tonight they put a whole puzzle together. Tonight I watched Brother Bear with them, a mostly ridiculous Disney movie I picked up at a tag sale over the summer and had to fast forward through one third of. But it was based upon Native American spirituality and it got us into some deep, heady bedtime conversations. The nature of spirit, our calling in life, etc.  I came to realize the how true their middle names seem to ring for the two of them. Tessa Cairn, her natural ability to guide, her wiseness and how clear she sees things, how defnitive her path can be at any given moment. Thatcher Espen, Divine Bear, a growling spirit, so present and literally growling! He seems to take up more space than his physical body allows. He charges headfirst into everything. They're both so whatever they are it doesn't matter. They're them, names or not.

Enough

Night time. The only time I ever feel able to get a thought out. The tendency seems to be perched between two beings, breathing in turn, glowing in the light of the computer screen. Yes, they're still in my bed. Jason's got his own now in the guest room. I imagine someday soon we'll all grow out of this phase, I even plan it out from time to time. They may actually have a  room of their own! Most likely we'll just give up ours for them to share. That way I can sneak back in because of course I'm the one enabling it all. But what a magical time it is to spend, hearing Tessa spell her friends names out in slurred sleepy whispers or make letters in  the air as she dreams.
They're both getting so big. Growing so fast. Tessa's steadfast love of animals does not falter, it encompasses her life daily, what she talks about, how she looks at the world, what she looks for in it. She's also obsessed with learning her letters, how to read, addition. Thatcher is half bear. He still doesn't have much of a vocabulary but he growls and lets us know exactly what he needs. He loves Tessa and tells me he misses her while she's at school. She lets him into her world almost always. Calls to him. Shares her imaginary games. They understand each other and it makes me so happy.
There's no real reason for this entry. No significant summation of my days I've come to. No enlightened thought. I'm just happy at the moment I suppose. And that should always be enough.

Holding Together While Letting Go (a little)

 

So there she goes again. Off to school but like a full time job. Five full days a week away from home, her brother, her pets.... and me! Oh, I'm holding together by a thread. I've stayed busy by cleaning and baking and entertaining Thatcher to a miniscule degree of what he's used to. Just last night Tessa said, "Thatcher's my best friend in the world! He does everything I tell him to!". Hmm. Sweet, telling and a little scary that it's her idea of what it means to be a best friend. They are though. They rough house and chase, pretend, race, clobber, create and bath together. They are inseperable.

 

Until school just seperated them. Part of me feels evil for it. Like I've disrupted a beautiful, healthy relationship by sending her off to the unknown world of cliques and secrets, tattletales and bullies. There are parts of that school world I hate. Parts that I feel like can really destroy a person's self esteem. But there's also the beauty of meeting difference. A strange new world of people with different backgrounds, different sounding names, different ways of playing. Who knows what she'll pick up from it, hopefully it will be good things like patience and the true qualities of a great friendship. Qualities no one could ever teach her by telling because they'll be specific to her.

 

I am scared to death. Scared of losing her a little bit more by the minute but so proud that she really wanted to go today. I know she was nervous, I didn't want her to mask it but I wanted to emphasize the excitement not the scary nature of it all. And so, when she woke up with a smile on her face, her eyes still closed and said softly, "it's a school day" I just smiled. Not a tear in my eyes so happy for her to want to know life outside of me. It's how I'll imagine I'll feel if she wants to travel far away someday. So excited, so nervous but mostly so proud of whoever she's becoming. Still, I had Jason drop her off so I didn't lose it completely. Ah well, there's only an hour and fourty six minutes to go to pick her up. Thatcher is sleeping, my second press of coffee has steeped, there are projects to be done, plenty of ways of distracting myself ahead. She'll be fine, she's Tessa for goodness sake.

Awake Asleep Awake

Awake... write a post. Check facebook, pinterest, email. Asleep... dream, shift, shuffle, pee. Does it matter? Morning will come and I'll want to sleep more, the kids will wake too early for me. Day will come with crepes and  laundry, dishes and a struggle to get everyone dressed. Why not take comfort in this silence but for the air conditioner I so strongly opposed? The rise and fall of the sheets over two sleeping beings next to me. Heads turned away from the glow, legs tangled, the smell of  sweet sweat in their hair. Tessa always wakes with a story of her dreams... Thatcher sneaks off the side of the bed. I stay, as long as I can, holding my breath and praying this never ends.

Go team!

I'm computerless, almost. I have this little flat iPad which is part wonderful conciliation and part terrific annoyance in it's frustrating touch screen keyboard... Not the least bit interesting or important enough for a blog post but here we are. I just got attacked in the eye by some large stinging bug. My left pinky toe is broken, I think, and have furthered the injury into the whole side of my foot by working on it and then walking all day through gritted teeth and moments of angry hysterics. Hello Friday the 13th. I am now relegated to the downstairs lacking tv and really comfort because everyone else is asleep and whatever. I'm slightly bitter, no kidding, and now my eye is severely stinging and swelling. The only bit of relief is the emotional vomiting I'm exercising here and now. In a few short words I am: Frustrated, restless, lonely, annoyed and probably a little buzzed off red wine I should most definitely not be drinking for the sake of the inevitable migraine I am to experience tomorrow am. There it is. Motherhood at it's finest.

All I Need Is A Little....

Tessa's last day of pre-k

So I'm trying to teach patience to Tessa. A four going on fifteen year old. Her sighs are about as heavy as a brick and her whine could cut glass. It cuts me, it tears me up and it destroys my patience along with any chance of avoiding the whole "do as I say not as I do" dilemna. I whine when I ask her to stop whining. It's awful and redundant and completely unhelpful.  She's as lost as I am these days I know.  When we finally get a chance to actually talk about how she's been feeling and why she's such a case lately she just holds on to me. In those moments I feel like crying too. She's so lost with this whole growing up thing and so am I. What in the world am I supposed to expect of a little ball of craziness but utter craziness? At the end of the day I'm often so short tempered I feel like I'm imploding. By the time Jason's home I'm the one whose got crazy eyes and the kids are exhausted from being restrained all day long. And that restrain generally consists of trips to a pond where I restrain them from drowning themselves, walks where I restrain them from running in front of cars because they have no idea of staying on the side of the road or holding my hand in a parking lot and trips to the supermarket that were it unnecessary to eat I would avoid like the freaking plague. I mean really. We are a total of three whole school days off into the summer and the thrill is long gone.

The weekend on the other hand was fabulous. We had Uncle Brett to entertain us and then Grammy and Bestefar to cling to and to finally get projects done with. Tomorrow is scary openness but in a few short days we'll be headed to Providence with all the Palmers for a week of escape and cousin face time. So I'll breathe in and out. Ten deep breaths like Tessa and I do whenever she starts to freak out because she can't pet a snarling dog. Oh my.

In other news.... I though I should take a toll of Thatcher's complete vocabulary at this time.  He says Mom (not mama, his choice not mine), Da, Teh-teh (Tessa), hi-ya! (very loudly), buh-bye (very softly), no (in variations but generally very short and cute), uh-oh! (often), oh (when he understands) and OW! (very often). He mumbles to himself and laughs a lot (I wonder who that came from?) and has some of the most incredible conversations with Tessa which go something like this: 

Thatcher: "bahbahmehmehmeh!" 

Tessa: "No hatcher! You can't ride a horse yet, you have to ride a pony! You're too small!"

Thatcher:  "NO!"

Tessa:  "YES!"

Thatcher: "NO!"

Tessa:  "Someday you can ride a big horse too. I promise."
Thatcher: "oh."
It's the best. And so life with babes goes. Two parts madness, one part joy, one part humor, served over melting time.

Giving In without Giving Up

The kids just left the house, a neighbor picked them up and carted them off. "Good luck!" I exhale to her as I wave and head in for a moment of silence and iced coffee. I'm shaky, partly because I've neglected my B-12 requirements for the past month or two and am nearly passing out  with chronic fatigue, but also because I feel this silence deepening and it's slightly disconcerting. Tessa's last day of pre-school ever is this coming tuesday, then summer vacation (a chaos before the quiet) and then full day kindergarden.  I look at Thatcher and wonder how in the world we'll make it for 7 full hours a day without her. She is the driving force in this house I'll admit. She is my energy when I have none. She forces me up, moves me out and manipulates my body into whatever she thinks it should be at the moment... games player, house cleaner, experimental lunch lady. She plans our days by playdates and pond trips and playground runs.  She never admits to being tired and she's happy to point out my dark circles. For the few hours I'm alone with Thatcher each weekday morning we have our slow going routine; clean, eat omelet, his show during my shower, do laundry and pick up Tessa. It's light and easy and familiar and I'm also happy to break it up with the return of my girl before lunch. I am terrified at the thought of leaving her in the hands of someone else for seven full hours. My parents are the only people who have ever spent that much time with her alone and that was once, on the night Thatcher was born. And that's why right now I'm spinning. They're out in someone else's car, going to a softball game, a middle school awards ceremony and I'm off to work. We've got different lives and that's becoming clearer. They are little people growing up and away, they are not just extensions of me. And yes, I love the quiet, I appreciate this moment without screaming or whining or nagging or fussing or crying for background sounds and maybe while she's away at school next year our relationship will blossom. She'll stop asking for babysitters, she'll be happy to be home with just her family. Thatcher may even get a chance to learn how to talk! Life is crazy and parenthood is like admitting yourself to a torture chamber sometimes but I don't know how else to live it anymore. Before I know it they'll both be in full day school and I'll have to re-acquiant myself with the world of adults. I'll have to learn how to have a cohesive conversation again. I'll have to start doubling up on the B-12.