It’s passed midnight

There were thunderstorms all morning. One of those days designed to keep you in bed, everything feels so cozy. So that’s what I did. With the exceptions of getting up to feed and change C, who was just as ok as I was to lay in bed until 3pm.
S helped himself to the chocolate chip pancakes in the fridge I made the morning before.
The pit of my stomach eats itself when seeing him do things independently at an age appropriate level. I’m so insecure about my parenting I often ruminate on my children’s milestones being signs of neglect. Why the hell do I feel so god damn bad that my third grader microwaved his own breakfast and happily watched TV and built legos for the first half of the day.

I made it to the police station to file the report. I get anxious about these things, wondering how much this will set that person off this time. The fear doesn’t take up my head space like it used to. I’ve worked hard to be able to shake it. But still. I often wonder how long until he kills me.

S snuck up behind me this evening, as a joke. We were goofing around, laughing and telling jokes. I got up to do some housework, taking C into the other room to set her in her swing. I had just clicked her buckle, my legs straightening out to stand back up from the kneeling position and all of a sudden BOO! My head smacked against his and scolded his name in frustration.
He ran into his room. Neither one of us had to say anything more for me to understand his feelings were hurt. How awful for a child to excitedly engage with you only to be instantly rejected. For their attempt at affection to be met with anger. I took some deep breathes and gave myself some space. I know I’ve told him before that I’ve never found scaring people to be funny, which is true. I don’t. I’m skeptical of a persons true character when they find enjoyment in seeing others distressed, then pass it off as a joke. But it’s not just that. It’s because I have PTSD.

I went into his room to tell him that I wasn’t mad. He was crying, told me all he wanted was my attention. It broke me. So I told him, “It’s just that I don’t like being snuck up on, which maybe you didn’t know. It’s not your fault, I know you were just playing, but can I tell you something? I’ve been snuck up on before, by bad guys… a long time ago. Actually, it happened to me a few times. So when someone comes up behind me like that, I get scared, my brain gets really scared because I think I’m going to be attacked again. Even once I realize it’s you, my heart won’t stop racing. I know you didn’t know that, so I’m telling you now.”

I then hugged him and asked him if he still wanted to go on a nature walk as a family. He nodded yes, I told him awesome, I just need to get some things done and then  we’ll go before dark.

We did. He had a blast scootering through the trails while I chased him, completely out of breath from running while pushing a stroller that strapped in the younger two.

I intentionally did not drive down the road where my mom’s old house was. The one we lived in, the one I sold, unwillingly. The one she died in. The one I didn’t want to leave…I didn’t want to leave her. I was scared it would hurt S’s feelings to really see someone else besides grandma living there. Then he asked me to drive by it, so I did. What else could I say. It looked so different. Pretty, especially the garden. He asked about the people who bought it, if they were nice which they are. I told him it was actually an old classmate of mine, who bought it for his grandparents. He even payed me $10,000 more than what I asked. S’s jaw dropped, “$10,000 more!? Wow… that’s REALLY nice of them.”

Its beautiful how pure his heart is.