And here we are again

We stood outside the classroom doors, frazzled and late. Isaac clung to me, his head pressed tight against my belly. "I don't want to go in," he said, looking up, the corners of his mouth turning downward, tears welling.

"I know, sweetie, I know. Mondays are hard." And they are, for all the obvious reasons, and some not so obvious.

It's the rhythm of things, you see.  It's the rhythm of waking on the weekends, of playing, of spending a full half hour just looking at each other. Few words, lots of expression, smiles, the occasional growl.

I reach over lazily to tickle him, and his eyes lock onto mine, a grin spreading across his face.  "That look, right there!" a therapist said to us early on. "That's what you want when he looks at you--that expression of total connection, total absorption."

Well, yes.

Time moves very slowly here on the weekends; we wake, I make pancakes and coffee, we read and wrestle, Isaac plays a few games of Wii Bowling with his dad, followed by a meltdown of tragic proportions when we deny him a fourth (okay, a fifth) game. He bowls a 59, a 61, a 71, moving through the controls with confidence.  In the last game, he makes two spares.  I watch as every so often he crosses his midline, and I exhale a soft little breath.

All these things we watch. All these things we monitor and read like damp tea leaves in a porcelain cup. An accumulation of moments, synapses firing, experiences, feelings, neural pathways paved and repaved.

No wonder Mondays come hard and fast, an abrupt gear change, and we all have trouble with the transition. But as much as I love to have him near me, to move in weekend time and focus on the precise little details of our day, I know it's not sustainable. He needs Monday. He needs to move out into the world, with its noises and smells and bustle, its schedules and inconveniences and daily pressures. 

And so, reluctantly, I kneel down, take his hand in mine, and walk with him into the classroom.

Comments

[Niksmom]

Here's hoping Tuesday brings a smoother transition for both of you! xo

[kristen]

It's supposed to get easier, this transition into the week. And maybe it does, at some point, but right now it's hard and your boy is upset and you feel bad. If only there was some sort of magic, some trick of the trade.

Hang in there Susan. Stay focused. Be consistent. Isaac is going to be fine; the adjustment will come. In the meantime, be kind to yourself. Sending all of you a hug.

[drama mama]

I've always felt that Mondays were a huge metaphor for the entire THING as well. The safety of the cocoon, the warmth of the nest, and then...the blue light of day.

Ah. But the bowling. The reading.

In time, sweetie. In time.