Thoughts of simpler days

I miss my pre-accident brain - it's ability to concentrate for long periods of time, to put complex thoughts and feelings into words. The 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle now a 10 piece wooden puzzle for toddlers. I sit down to write, to sort out my thoughts, and I find a vacuous space where there used to be a playground of words. This phase in life also being, perhaps, the most difficult to articulate while respecting boundaries. The past seems so present. Maybe it still is. 

The 3-year-old little boy sits on the stairs. He has been sitting there for over an hour, arms folded across his chest, chin up. Crocodile tears streaming down his face.  

Sitting in time-out is our umpteenth attempt to get through to him, and it seems to be failing.

I sit next to him and say, "All you need to do is apologize to your older brother, and then you can go back to playing," I say. He stares ahead silently.

I had tried everything we could think of up to that point, and now we were down to this- a battle of wills.

"God, please help me," I pray silently. I had sensed this boy's stubbornness from the time he was still in the womb, and most days, it's what I admire most about him. Something tells me the moment is bigger than an apology.

"Luke, I know you don't want to say sorry, but if you feel sorry, can you touch your nose for me?"

Heaving silent sobs, he touches his nose, over, and over, and over, and over again. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.

Finally.

I call Camden over and explain that the nose tapping is what we are going to use, in lieu of an apology for now. Hugs, laughter, back to playing Legos.

What I'd do for motherhood to be that simple once again, but while I yearn for those simpler days, it's these days- these infinitely more complex days- that I think I'll long for the most when they're gone. It's these soul-stretching, knee-bending days that make my heart feel like it wants to burst with pride for the amazing humans that they are becoming, despite all of my imperfections.

I pray that life is kind, but doesn't enable them. 

I pray that they stay close to the water's edge, while knowing they need to push off. 

I pray that they don't abandon their maddening stubbornness.

I pray that life bends, but doesn't break them.