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A new season…right? Today was very spring-like. It was near 80 degrees, which is very odd for the U.P. in the middle of March. Heck, just a couple weeks ago we got over 2 feet of snow overnight! It’s wonderful to see the sun and breathe in the sweet, earthy air. I am seriously getting some Spring cleaning fever, which is difficult to satisfy with a needy 4 month-old hangin’ around. In a way, okay, a big way, I am hoping that this change of weather is symbolic that we are entering into a new season in our lives. Things have calmed in a way that I couldn’t have imagined a year ago, but with that comes some sadness of the realities of why things are so calm. Wednesday was Gabe’s 19th birthday. Yup. I am the mom of a 19 year-old. That wouldn’t be so weird if I weren’t still 2.25 years away from 30 myself. I mention this not just to say “Happy Birthday” to my sweet son, who is reaching back out to us, and trying to make some very hard choices right now, but also because his birthday marks the beginning of a huge season of trauma-versaries for us. Huge, life changing, never-thought-our-life-would-be-like-this, trauma-versaries. It’s been a year. And instead of sitting here on a Friday night with two adolescent boys watching a movie, or playing a board game as a family, or dealing with the latest tantrum fallout, I am sitting here with my sister, my husband, and a sweet 4 month-old who has never even heard me raise my voice, watching the DVR recordings of our favorite shows. It’s only been a year. And one of my sons is living on his own in the next town over, doing his best to deal with the consequences of the adult choices he was so eager to make. Our relationship is being restored, finally, but I’m having a hard time figuring out how to be the parent to an adult child. The other of my sons is also dealing with the consequences of his choices, and on a scale he can not possibly comprehend right now. He won’t be coming home. He’s in a place that I pray will usher in the healing that he so desperately needs. He will be 13 at the end of this month. I’m missing that. I’m missing him. The real him. I’m not missing the trauma. I’m not missing the way my heart still races when memories of that time come invading my mind. In a few weeks Hubby and I will be heading to the Parenting in SPACE conference. It will be a big reunion for me, and a big opportunity for Hubby to connect with other dads who “get it.” As excited as I am, the conference also marks the first domino leading to what we thought was death, but was just the intense heat of the refiner’s fire. So maybe you can see why this is rather surreal for me to be sitting in a quiet house next to a sweet baby girl who looks into my eyes with peace and adoration. The alarms are gone. The padlocks are gone. There are still holes in the walls, and we even found a random poop smear (how did he get it up there?), but with my Spring cleaning fever, I’m sure those will all be resolved soon. And then what? Maybe eventually we will get used to this newness. This season of expectation. Expecting good things. Anticipation. What is He up to? What will this Spring bring? Blessings! Hannah PS, Be looking for a new Springy theme next week! I didn’t expect winter to actually disappear before Spring officially got here.
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A séasúr nua ... ceart? Sa lá atá inniu a bhí an-earrach-mhaith. Bhí sé in aice le 80 céim, a bhfuil an-corr do na UP i lár mhí an Mhárta. Heck, ach cúpla seachtain ó shin fuair muid níos mó ná 2 throigh sneachta thar oíche! Tá sé iontach a fheiceáil ar an ghrian agus breathe in aer, milis earthy. Tá mé ag dul go mór roinnt fiabhras Earraigh a ghlanadh, rud atá deacair a shásamh le 4 ngéarghátar mhí d'aois hangin 'ar fud. Sa tslí sin, maith go leor, ar bhealach mór, tá mé ag súil go bhfuil an t-athrú aimsire siombalach go bhfuil muid ag dul isteach i séasúr nua inár saol. Things tar éis calmed ar bhealach nach raibh mé in ann a shamhlú bliain ó shin, ach leis sin tagann an brón roinnt de na réaltachtaí cén fáth a bhfuil rudaí sin go socair. Ba é Dé Céadaoin an 19ú lá breithe Gabe ar. Yup. Tá mé an mam de 19 bliain d'aois. Ní bheadh sin mar sin aisteach más rud é nach raibh mé fós 2.25 bliain ar shiúl ó 30 mé féin. Lua mé an ní hamháin le "Happy Birthday" a rá le mo mhac milis, atá ag teacht ar ais amach le linn, agus ag iarraidh a dhéanamh ar roinnt roghanna an-deacair ceart anois, ach freisin toisc marcanna a lá breithe tús le séasúr ollmhór tráma- versaries dúinn. Ollmhór, saol atá ag athrú, riamh-cheap-ár-saoil a bheadh-le-bheith-mhaith-seo, tráma-versaries. Tá sé curtha s in aghaidh na bliana. Agus in ionad suí anseo ar oíche Dé hAoine le beirt bhuachaillí ógánaigh breathnú ar scannán, nó ag imirt cluiche boird mar theaghlach, nó déileáil leis an fallout tantrum is déanaí, tá mé ag suí anseo le mo dheirfiúr, mo fear céile, agus milis 4 mhí d'aois riamh a chuala fiú dom a ardú mo ghlór, breathnú ar na taifeadtaí DVR ar ár seónna is fearr leat. Baineann sé le bheith ach in aghaidh na bliana. Agus is é ceann de mo mhac ina gcónaí ar a chuid féin sa bhaile seo chugainn níos mó, ag déanamh a chuid is fearr chun déileáil leis na hiarmhairtí ar na roghanna do dhaoine fásta a bhí sé fonn sin a dhéanamh. Is é ár gcaidreamh a bheith athchóirithe, ar deireadh, ach tá mé ag am deacair figuring amach conas a bheith ar an tuismitheoir le leanbh fásta. An eile de mo mhac ag déileáil chomh maith leis na hiarmhairtí a roghanna, agus ar scála nach féidir leis a thuiscint, b'fhéidir, ceart anois. Ní bheidh sé ag teacht abhaile. Tá sé in áit go pray agam go mbeidh usher i an leighis gur gá desperately sé amhlaidh. Beidh sé 13 ag deireadh na míosa seo. Tá mé ag iarraidh go. Tá mé ag iarraidh dó. An fíor é. Níl mé ag iarraidh ar an tráma. Níl mé ag iarraidh ar an mbealach mo chroí rásaí fós nuair a thagann cuimhní an am sin invading mo intinn. I Hubby cúpla seachtain agus beidh mé ag dul chuig an Tuismitheoireachta i gcomhdháil SPÁS. Beidh sé teacht le chéile mór dom, agus is deis mór do Hubby chun nascadh le dads eile a "a fháil." Mar excited mar tá mé, marcanna an chomhdháil freisin ar an domino chéad rud a cad a cheap muid go raibh bás, ach bhí díreach an teas dian ar an refiner tine. Mar sin, b'fhéidir gur féidir leat a fheiceáil cén fáth go bhfuil sé seo in áit surreal dom a bheith ina suí i dteach ciúin in aice le cailín leanbh milis a bhreathnaíonn i mo shúile le síocháin agus adoration. Na haláraim atá imithe. An padlocks atá imithe. Tá fós poill sna ballaí, agus fuair muid fiú smearaidh lem randamach (conas a rinne sé í a fháil suas ann?), Ach le mo fiabhras Earraigh a ghlanadh, tá mé cinnte go mbeidh iad siúd a réiteach go léir go luath. Agus ansin cad é? B'fhéidir anseo, beidh muid a fháil a úsáidtear chun an newness. An séasúr ag súil. Ag súil le rudaí maith. Réamh-mheas. Cad Tá sé suas go dtí? Cad an Earraigh a thabhairt? Beannachtaí! Hannah PS, Bí ag lorg téama nua springy an tseachtain seo chugainn! Ní raibh mé ag súil gheimhridh a imíonn iarbhír sula bhfuair an Earraigh go hoifigiúil anseo.