it seems that telling others how to rationalize fear is always easier than doing it ourselves.

r. came home last night – the girls and i were ecstatic. h. did not want to let go and a. just loved giving her hugs and kisses. h. wanted momma so bad that she cried for 45 minutes before going to sleep. we checked in every 10 minutes or so to reassure her that she was okay, she finally cried herself out, but woke up several times in the night crying. always “momma, momma, momma?” i get a kick out of the last momma, it always sounds like a question. i’m sure it’s hard for r. to hear that when she comes home. a bit tired today to say the least. a. also woke up, she just needed to be put back in her bed. i think they are both adjusting to our new schedule and place that we live – plus momma was home and they missed her, as did i.

typically (like almost always) it can be very frustrating when kids cry and scream in the night – duh – it seems that nothing but your presence can comfort them. last night was different. now, don’t get me wrong i don’t prefer it, but i listened to the cry as if she was asking for help and wanted her mom and dad. okay fair enough. in wanting her mom and dad she is saying that she knows that we can fix whatever is bothering her. she still believes, and hopefully will for a long while, that we can help solve any problem she is having. this does not change the fact that i won’t get her out of bed, and that she needs to realize that we won’t come at every cry, but we are their everything and they look to us as the people who can help them no matter what. our job is to teach them to rely on themselves, and others, to navigate their way through life (long term goal andy, they are only 4 and 2 – it starts now though) i’m not expressing a new concept, rather a realization that they may not feel this way forever. the moment you realize that your parents don’t know the answer or can’t solve all the problems is a tough one. the “you’re human?” moment. i still don’t want to believe that one at times. just talking to myself – reminding myself.

as h. screamed her mind out, r. pointed out a huge spider on the floorboard by our bedroom. the difference between myself and r. is that she sees a spider and it’s a spider – i see a spider and i am sure we have a spider infestation. i wish i would have taken a picture of the spider. my mind did. the moments between h.’s screaming/crying were filled with the image of the spiders family crawling into bed with me, or did it just bite h.? is that why she is crying? i couldn’t shake it. i then thought of a. at the park the other day (see previous entry) and her fear of the fly. should i have sat myself next to the spider until i was calm and collected? instead i crushed the spider – pop – in a kleenex and thought about it all night. should i get poison? do we need an exterminator? what kind of spider house did we buy?

i must ask myself, would my parents have been comforted by me calling them at 2:00 am and sharing my fear of this spider? would they have answered the phone and felt a warm rush that their son still needed them – that i thought they could solve all of my problems. from that far away? how could you not hope your kids will still call you at the age of 34 and need your advice or share their fears? i’m guessing they would have said what i did to a. “get ahold of yourself it’s a spider.” of course there is a balance.

needing people. r. and i are independent. we are learning to let people help us. it’s hard.

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