I'm not sure I've given much detail here; I'll just say that Bug was not an easy baby. For example, the first thing the first nurse said about him at birth was, "My what a beautiful baby. My goodness, he has strong lungs!" He used to leave our ears ringing when we held him to try to comfort him. When we enrolled him in a morning out program, before he'd turned two, they asked us to describe him with one word. CD and I finally settled on "more".
I tried every week to get to a yoga class. I tried to prove that Einstein's definition of insanity was wrong. If only I tried the same class one more time, this time Bug wouldn't scream and the YMCA nursery staff wouldn't come to get me, I'd hope. I hated to be a pessimist, but to be on the safe side, I set my yoga mat near the door. I enjoyed the warm up every week for a year. And then they came to get me and I left.
I coped. Half a yoga class was better than none. We tried to get help a few times, but he was just under the threshold for having "a problem." And yet, we knew that an unpredicted change would set him off. Rushing him was a waste of time. The change in seasonal clothing was an issue.
Much has improved in the past six years, but he is still a sensitive and emotional child. This morning we had the first meltdown we've had in a long time. Maybe the first this school year. It could have been the time change- he went to bed at changed time but woke up an hour earlier than needed for school. It could have been that this was the first morning I pulled out the winter jackets. It could have been the phase of the moon, I'll never know. But it was time to leave to walk to school and Bug was a mess.
By the time the issue was settled, the boys needed to be driven to school. This change in plans was upsetting to Bug too, but he managed to pull himself together enough to leave.
I went to yoga. I can go to the YMCA for a yoga class these days anytime I want. I can be running late too, and not have to check in a crying kid to the nursery. I forget to enjoy this most of the time.
Today, as I walked through the parking lot, a mom was struggling with twins, about a year and a half old. One was refusing to hold her hand, so she hefted him up along with her purse, the large diaper bag and her yoga mat. With the other hand she held the little girl who wanted to walk on the curbs the long way around. I could see myself in her face. There was no reason to rush the kids, it would just make her later than she thought she'd be already.
I offered to carry the yoga mat, and waited for her so I could get the doors. She said it was her first attempt to bring them to the nursery. Since we were going to the same room, I said I'd take the mat to class while she checked the kids in. She came into the room at the last minute and whispered to me, "traumatic separation."
We warmed up. When the nursery staff came to the door she knew it was for her, and she left. I almost started to cry.