Karen's Journey

One afternoon last week, after T finished his snack, I told him in my most cheerful voice we were going for a walk. Let the unhappy dance begin. "Walking is boring." I completely understand that. My preference would be to run, but he would whine the whole time about how slow I was running. So off we went, after arguing about whether or not he needed a coat ("It's HOT outside," he insisted, until... about a half mile into the walk at which point he started complaining about how cold he was -- and he was wearing his coat and hat and gloves). He crabbed and complained during the whole walk. He lagged behind. He refused to answer questions about his day. I remained cheerful and smiling throughout, refusing to be dragged down -- even though my fingers and face were freezing too. At the end when I told him he could run to our driveway, he declined. When I started running, he announced that he didn't need to run in order to beat me, and he started his racewalk

I described my "aha moment" in a previous posting about brain drain (see  brain drain ). I have since acquired the book that was recommended by our attachment therapist and been actively using the techniques. I don't know if our recent leap forward has to do with the fact that T is no longer perceiving me as "not strong" and him therefore "not safe" as a result of the repetitive and inane questions dance that was going on, but no longer is, if spending two weeks cocooning with us -- no school and no daycare brought him closer to us, or if just by virtue of time -- home with us nearly three years now -- he was ready to move forward, or if it has been a combination of all three, but he has unquestionably made a huge step forward in progress toward fuller attachment. I wanted to revisit brain drain though, because I think it's one of those things that appears in different forms for different families and there is no "one size fits all"

I know it's a roller coaster and I know there are downs after the ups. I know it's two steps forward, one step back. But. After being home with us for 11 days straight -- no school, no daycare -- every moment of every day spent with at least one of us in close proximity, T seems like a new kid. A happy kid. I was dreading the 6:45 wake up call this morning, but he was chipper and cheerful. Did everything he needed to do with no nagging, stomping, pouting, or grumping. Held me tight and long before walking out the door chirping, "See you later, alligator!" Eleven days of cocooning. Is that the magic elixir? It's 8:35 a.m. He's on the bus on his way to school. And I miss him already. Seriously miss him. I've gone to part time at work so that he can come straight home from school and spend one one one time with me -- time when I'm not cooking, cleaning, paying bills, running errands, doing laundry, and all those other, "I can't play w