My heart beats for my boys.
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the day to day accumulation of whatever it is that accumulates within me, and I feel as though I need to somehow find an outlet of some sort, any sort, so that I can draw in my breath and regain some composure before I pick up my kids. Because I don’t want them to see that their mother is barely holding it together.
Walking helps.
Sometimes the older one gets into a mood in which he stomps about or shuffles about with a long face. I ask him what’s wrong and he says he doesn’t know. He just feels upset. He can’t really explain it to me, and he has no particular reason or trigger that he can recall that put him in that place. But I get it. And in a way I’m grateful that he expresses himself so physically. Because that is how I so often feel. So I get it.
The younger one is perhaps even more physical with the expression of his emotions, but he is more likely to recover quickly.
They are such beautiful, incredible boys.
