Popcorn & late night chats

Return to school after winter break is a struggle. Back to routines. Back to earlier bedtimes and much earlier mornings. Back to the to-do lists, activities and overall just a higher buzz. It feels like a bit of a grind.

The day before school started back, B had a really hard day. He was sore. His legs felt "wobbly" and he needed lots of extra rest. These days don't happen too often, but when they do they throw us all off. They are hard because we have to face the reality of what is going on with him. We rack our brains trying to come up with a reason why today he is sore? Yesterday was pretty low key, was it the activity the day before? Was it climbing the mounds of snow with the kids on new years eve? Was it trying to keep up with everyone? Was it running up and down the stairs over and over with his pals? Is it random? Did he not get enough to eat? Did he not sleep well enough? Then the denial, maybe he's just growing, could that please be it?

The night before the first day of school we did the normal bedtime routine but he just couldn't settle. Bedtime usually isn't too big a deal but that night he tossed and turned. He came out over and over again asking for something new each time; water, a snuggle, a snack. I knew it wasn't about any of those things, is it ever? Gary had to leave for hockey and if I'm being honest, I was spent. So, after the third or fourth request from his room, I invited him into my bed. I had just popped a bag of microwave popcorn and snatched a pineapple Bubly from the drink fridge, about to settle in for some trashy television. I was looking forward to some alone time but I didn't have the energy to keep on bringing him back to bed so in he climbed. He wasn't in bed for a minute before I realized just how much we both needed this moment together. He couldn't believe that he was sitting with me in bed, past his bedtime with a bowl of fresh popcorn we were going to share. That would never normally fly. You could see in his eyes just how special this felt. It was special. Not just for him, for me too.

I'm not sure how long we were there, it felt as if time stood still, just the two of us suspended in a moment together. But I'm sure it were an hour or more that the two of us just connected. We laughed a lot, chatted and even shared a tear together.

At one point, I told Bennett how sorry I was that his legs were sore and that he had to deal with any of this to begin with. I told him how badly I wished I could make it better for him and how hard it was that I couldn't. Then, like the bright light that he is, he tossed my hair from my face, put his hand on my cheek and said calmly with so much wisdom, "Sometimes mom, there are issues that they have medicine for and they can fix. Sometimes you can make it better. But some things you just have to learn to live with". It took my breath away. How could he say it all so matter of fact. How did he know this? He didn't seem bothered by the thought and it didn't sound hopeless at all. It was practical and indicative that perhaps he has already reached some level of acceptance in all of this that I am still struggling with.

He shared more that evening, both of us were open and present and vulnerable. It is a mother and son experience that I will treasure. But what I am left with most of all, is a sense of awe. It's not the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last time, but something makes me feel like this is nowhere near his first crack at life. It can't be. He must have done this a hundred times already. How can a little boy, in a little body, with such little life experience under his belt, be so gentle and possess such wisdom? How can he know what he knows? How can he face life with just the right amount of grit and grace? An old soul, my son. I am humbled and in awe that of all the mothers he could have had, he chose me. I do not take that privilege lightly.

So I learned a very important lesson that night. Routines and structure are definitely important; our kids need them to be healthy and to strive. But once in a while, when the timing is just right, when your hearts need a little extra love, veering off course is exactly the right thing to do. Popcorn in bed is an unusual prescription but was just the medicine we both needed that day.