Today my son stayed home from school because he looked like hell after our weekend trip to Dallas for the Weston A. Price Foundation Wise Traditions conference. He was beat. Shortly before we got home last night at about 8:00, he had a series of sneezing fits. I knew the prognosis for a child-free Monday was not great.
So we had a home day that was mostly okay but didn’t end until 9:45 p.m. after we stuck firm to our refusal to give him apple cider. I don’t know what happened, if it was the zinc I gave him or the epsom salt bath or what. But he was insane. He came downstairs I don’t know how many times. We both tried everything we could think of in the mode of playful parenting, empathetic listening, and sticking to our guns.
Whatever is happening in his brain right now, though, we were no match for it.
All day, I’d been reluctant to indulge him in a ton of mommy time so as not to give the impression that you can just stay home whenever and do fun stuff. A homeschooler I am not, as much as sometimes I might like to be.
So he might have felt a little ignored, but he just needed to have some chill time, you know? Rationalizing, yes, but also true, I think.
Still, tonight, as he was being a total spaz, I was feeling kind of guilty for having been so scattered and all “play on your own” and “sure, you can watch that French opera from your grandpa.” Husband guilt for the trip (since I had attended the conference solo leaving him to fend for himself with two kids) didn’t help either.
And yet. When I look at the leaves my little boy found and marveled over today with absolute joy and delight for nothing other than their beauty, I feel grateful and lucky.
Like maybe I am kind of a decent mom.