Attention!

How does the Beatles song go?

Wake up, get out of bed
Drag a comb across my head
Find my way downstairs and drink a cup
And looking up, I notice I am late

Sometimes, to be honest, I don't notice much else. When did Isaac get that spider bite on his cheek? (His skin is so much like mine: puffs up at the slightest provocation) How, all of a sudden, are we out of soap? And Kleenex? Didn't we just buy Kleenex?

And then there are days like today, when it's all I can do to finish just one thing. Where's my favorite black tank top? When did I last call my Dad? What month is it?

It's easy to be lost in the moment with Isaac. When he's distracted, it requires all my attention and energy to lure us both to the same meeting-place: this moment. This. Moment. Now.

Otherwise, for the most part, it's continuous partial attention. Ambient, well, pretty much everything. It's benign for those of us who are neurotypical, but so much harder for Isaac. It's constant sensory bombardment--at school, where he struggles and comes home exhausted, outside; where he's always prey to unexpected noises; even at home sometimes when the washing machine buzzes or the microwave beeps its three final beeps.

This afternoon, we snuggled on the sofa and watched "Harold and the Purple Crayon," followed by a game of dress-up like Daddy ("I want to see in the mirror!" he squawked, and bolted down the hall.) I try to squeeze everything I can from those moments: in the bath, where he tends to be most talkative, at night, when we're telling bedtime stories, in the morning, when he's still groggy and warm from sleep.

I don't care that the moments are small. I care that they're meaningful.

I wonder a lot about attention lately. Mine (sometimes hard to corral, pulled in so many directions). My husband's (mature and focused, a solid barometer). But mostly Isaac's, which is sometimes so fleeting, and sometimes so intent.

I want more. When his attention falters, I want to know what is pulling it away. A feeling? A memory? An itch? A synapse randomly firing?

All of a sudden, it's all I can think about.

Comments

[NIksmom]

OMG, you are in my head! Right.Now. I've been thinking about this aspect of Nik a lot lately. I keep thinking that if I can figure out what it is that pulls his attention so suddenly and sharply away, I might just be able to defeat it or work with it. Instead, I get frustrated and, sometimes, fretful.

I had to chuckle about the spider bite; substitute "bruise on his..." for Nik. *sigh*

[drama mama]

I hear you. It IS a test in patience, isn't it.

I love this:

"I don't care that the moments are small. I care that they're meaningful."

Amen. Hang in there.

[Kia (Good Enough Mama)]

The "meaningful" part can be so hard at times, can't it? I struggle with this, too. Sometimes I feel like I can't possibly spend enough meaningful time with Little Man, even though he's the only child I have. It just seems like life sucks every minute out of us and demands we relinquish all of our time to meaningless mush. I think that the fact that we are aware of this though shows that we are doing our best to make things matter and to take advantage of whatever time we have with our kids...

[Ellen]

It's what they always talk about in yoga. You are in the moment, this moment. Live in this moment alone. Don't apply that to your finances (because that's another thing that's not helping right now, :-), but yourself, your family and your friends.

The moment means everything. It's not large or small, it is.

How zen of moi!