I swear, some days it’s like i’ve got no heart at all and things go by just fine and fairly boring.  Then other times (ahem, perhaps this week, for example) I’m all tortured artist-y with angst and things to say and crying at songs on the radio.  Oh yeah, it’s weird. Yesterday, I was meditating all during that run on my decision to ignore feelings (which was, in that situation, a sound one).  But I forgot all about the feelings of victory and relief and accomplishment and gratitude that came rushing in in those last couple miles.  

I remembered the wonderfulness of feelings yesterday mid-morning:  

I may or may not have told you 1,000 times before that Oliver sometimes seems to be an expert at aggravation.  He’s totally the little brother who will walk up to Stella and take her toy or wallop her over the head just for the fun of it (or attention).  He is just. so. loud.  Which is a power that can be used for good or for evil, but at almost-3-years-old, well he’s dealing with some feelings issues too: when he’s not happy about something, he likes to make his discontentment known, loudly, frequently, persistently.  

Mornings are rough sometimes.  Waking up with an empty stomach and groggy head is a tough way to start, so Ollo picks fights or just yells, loudly, for no real reason at all.  Some days this goes on, off and on, for our first two to three hours.  Those are the days naptime comes earlier than usual… and that i’m afraid one of us will not survive.  I might kick him out at age almost-3–  Just send him off with his tricycle and a little knapsack with snacks and some fresh Diego briefs.  Or i might actually be consumed by the feelings of anger I’m trying so desperately to work through in the moment, and expire in a steaming heap in the kitchen.    (You see again, why sometimes i’d rather be rid of emotions.)

 

With that in mind, you can imagine my delight when yesterday mid-morning i found him playing happily, singing “Jesus Loves the Little Children,”  (which he calls “Blue and black and white, precious in His sight).  When Stella came in, he looked at his big sister and said, “Your hair looks so nice, Stella.”  He wanted to help when I asked him too, cleaned up his toys while singing the “clean up” song, said please and thank you, and asked me to sing and dance with him. I wish i could recall the funny stuff my boy kept saying, but suffice to say there was a moment i just stopped and looked at him, and felt like he even looked different with that sweet attitude.  I was so thankful for a while to just enjoy my oldest son being himself, to laugh and have fun together, apart from our discipline/teaching struggles.  

 

The joy of those moments, the renewed purpose I had for the day (rather than already feeling worn out and on-edge), are feelings i don’t think i could live without.