I had given away and sold hundreds of comics and books in the 9 months leading up to Jay's birth and still it wasn't enough to make room enough for a family. So I had to give away what really mattered, although it is only temporary. But felt, even so. A lot, in fact. I say this about comics, some from the 60s - with unforgettable stories and worth some money. You might say this about something else. But I'd like to think you'd do the same, if you found that there really was no other priorities that made sense.
Maybe everything is as it should be then. But as said, the feeling is so strong - the feeling that it is close to heart-break that innocence has to end. In such cases, though, it helps to write about it. One day I will know why.
there is so much balancing to be done, it feels more often than not like an impossible task. But I should be able to get better at it, at least, if never perfect. That much I have to believe, and believe it in my heart and soul. Otherwise, what is the point of even trying?
Just getting up, getting out the door, going to the Royal Library, doing the best I could with my time there, but still taking care of urgent tasks that I felt could not be ignored for all sorts of reasons. Some of the good, some less good. That's a bit muddled, but it's life I guess. Not perfect, but keeping the right course.
Today I read a book for my son for the first time. It was a small 'book' with pages very thick of some plastic like material and hole and rounded corners he could grab. The 'plot' was about a teddy bear taking a bath, then going to bed and then getting up in the morning. You could see various things in the book, like a towel, pajamas, and bananas - each related to the story's 3 main section. The beginning, middle and end, oh yes. Hardly a story. Hardly a book, even. But his first. One little book for Jay, and me. But one big start of something ...
Was alone home today, whilst working and it was a strange feeling. I was glad to have the time, without interruptions. Also to just sit back after work and enjoy a whiskey. But I also missed Jay and Char very much. I both needed them to be there and not to be there, at least that day. Another definition of parenthood, I guess. But not the worst one.
We all want what is best for our children, or at least should. Trouble is that we don't always know what will be, and even when we are sure we know, reality won't always let us choose that. But damn if we don't give it another try, then.
Jay was kind of impossible all day and we didn't really find out why. We were still at my parents which was a a down in a sense (I'm writing this Friday, panting to catch up). I guess I wanted the time there to be more perfect and baby-coo-coo. Which is silly, of course. Just like the idea that my parents have an idea that babies should be perfect. They raised me and my brother, after all. :-)
I think it took some time for my mum to get over that we had not revealed our efforts for 6 years to have children; she doesn't like to be kept out. But seeing her with her grand son, I think she is definitely over that now - seeing her joy. She is right here and now with him. And so that is all that really matters. I did consider explaining more to her our reasons for keeping it a secret, all sorts of good reasons, especially when you are in a medical situation others can't do anything about - but worry. But now ... it doesn't matter. Only the here and now and, in a good sense, the future. That matters and that is good.
Wrote to all the attendants at Jay's baptism and thanked them individually for their presents and presence. It took all day, but they earned it. Not many days and social gatherings you can say that about, so when one shows up, it's important to appreciate just that - and show it.
Alone one whole evening with Jay for the first time and it went rather badly. He wouldn't take the bottle, or even a small glass of milk from Char. Not without screaming his lungs out. I stopped after a while and just let him sleep in the carriage until Char came home. I felt pretty bad about it, except of course that I stopped in time, when I realized it did not work. That I did have that much sense, after trying for several hours. Sometimes even small victories has to count.
Everything just blew up this morning, our frustrations, my stress. So much for the podcast I actually managed to make yesterday for my product line about peace, joy etc. After the initial waves, had lasted, though ... I just gave up. I think we both did. Sat and stared into the air, playing distractedly with Jay. But it helped. Realizing you can't really do anything but lie down and wait. Give up, in a sense. After steam has blown, just wait for it to evaporate. Accept that things are going to be muddled and nothing will be perfect for a while. If ever. Then start rebuild, bit by bit.
But my experience is - esp. from when I was terribly ill - that we do turn to God in times of need, to something Higher. Or the belief in it. Many of us do just that and it is natural and well. So those words the priest writes down for us from the Bible, at baptism or birth, they might not mean much while everything is going well but when everything is not, they will.
When you have children you automatically have more conflicts - the adults. Being 42 and 43 is no security against that. If your relationship is old, too, and has grown old through trials then age is, however, makes you more secure in your ability to solve the conflicts that do arise.