Winter will be lost for a while this weekend and I admit I have no desire to go look for it. Temps are supposed to crawl into the low 70s, which will make good weather for getting the house ready to sell. It is supposed to list on the 20th of February. We're watching for this potential 15K tax credit to pass through congress and keeping our fingers crossed for the purchase of a new home.
Its been a heavy week. The palpable stress in the world and to an extent in our house makes me tired. Joe is doing so well and I am proud of him, but I know he worries and that in turn makes me worry about him. Everything in the news is just saturated with woe and stories of woe to come. It feels almost wrong on a moral level to drift into optimistic thoughts. I've seen the media use the "D" word a few times (Depression). Granted, that is a frightening thought, but even then the majority of people were still employed. Obviously people lived through it. A few lean years can be dealt with and we are such homebodies that I don't know why it scares me so much.
Alexander is having a slumber party with three other little boys on Valentine's night. That's his birthday and he will be 11. I am not looking forward to the slumber party part but I am so happy for him that he can do it. Years of apartment living and on-the-edge-of-poverty made that kind of thing difficult for a few years. Not to mention the chaotic unknown of whether he and then his brother were going to be having problems that required immediate medical attention on any given day. I have been contemplating scanning in the pictures from Alexander's surgery. Not the surgery itself, but the befores, the afters. I don't know why, but I don't look back at his situation as often as I do Joseph's. We were going through our divorce at the time that his tumor was found and that serious health issue on top of the emotional turmoil going on was overwhelming. I don't think I fully understood at the time how serious it was. Alex remembers an appallingly large amount of information from the time of his surgery, including time he spent in the ICU. Things I wish he had forgotten, though I don't know why. He doesn't seem particularly traumatized by it. He is very matter-of-factual when he talks about it. He has sought clarification on why certain things happened the way they did and why we would not let him do some things he had wanted to at the time, but there's no recrimination in his questions, just a desire for understanding that he seems to recognize he didn't have at the time due to age and maturity (he was five).
So my youngest is turning 11. I find myself savoring things with him on a deep, emotional level. I pray more that I will not forget than anything else. I know the next years will be ones of big change, in his physical size, in his personality, in his focus and goals. We've been so close and so in sync. I am not looking forward to the likely inevitability of his pulling away from me, exploring the world, experimenting with things he probably should not, getting into trouble, testing his mettle and mine. I wish I could keep him right here, right now, this way. Of course, I have said that every year of his life. Each age has brought new and wonderful things about him to life. Perhaps his teen years will be no different. He does seem to have unusual maturity for a child of his age, likely due to all we've been through.
I'll get those pictures scanned in and publish them. I think it would be good for my own sense of continuity.