Puddles and Sunsets

So after I had my chance to vent, I'm doing better now. Kind of sad, but better, thanking God for all of the people who've popped up in life in one way or another to help me know I'm not on this journey alone.

The other day after my meltdown I took Ethan for a walk outside. The day had been unseasonably warm and the snow had left puddles everywhere. The sun was starting to set and the wind was picking up, but I really wanted to give him a chance to get out, so we started taking our usual walk.

My mom has this idea that Ethan should know how to walk and follow people, and it's something she does when she's watching him. I suppose she's right, because Ethan's natural tendency is to want to get ahead and do his thing. Do I agree that our busy street is the best place to teach him this? Eh, I don't know. But she's been taking him for walks nonetheless, and he enjoys them. She's also been trying to help him take notice of little details and things on the ground...and I have, too. Now he knows he has to stay on the sidewalk instead of wandering into people's yards. And obviously even if I'm not holding his hand I watch like a hawk to make sure he doesn't even get close to the street.

So we went for a walk, and Ethan said "Bye door!" to every garage door he saw. He loves garage doors and gets especially happy if someone has left theirs up. It's quirky but I had to smile. I watched him trudge along, bundled up in his heavy jacket and blue boots. He had discovered puddles last time with gramma and so we did lots of puddle stomping. Then he noticed some pebbles and started dropping them into the puddles, along with dropping clumps of snow into the muddy water.

As we walked I pointed out the chimney smoke, the clouds, airplanes and birds, and the way the wind moved the trees. There was nothing spectacular about any of it, really -- just a typical afternoon in Windsor, with the traffic picking up on the ground and in the air (with the airport nearby) as the day wound down. Yet something about taking the time to stop and really look at it, to engage all of the senses, made it lovely.

We got to the point where we had to turn around and I braced myself. Ethan is just two and a tantrum shouldn't really phase me. But for some reason every time I take him for a walk and we get to the turning around part I think about when I was about 18 and took Andy for a walk in our neighborhood. He was about 11 or 12 and at one point he just sat down and wouldn't budge. I began to panic more and more because he would not get up and I couldn't physically do anything to move him. Then he started making all kinds of noises and crying and I started crying too, out of desperation and shame. This woman came out of one of the houses and said, "Can I help you dear?" and I didn't know what to say. Right at that moment, Andy jumped up and decided to be on his way. I walked home feeling relief but all kinds of other feelings, too.

So we had to turn around and Ethan got mad and tried to throw himself on the ground. I grabbed his hand, told him he was going to walk back now, and that it was time to play our game. I began, "Ready? Set?"

"Go!" he filled in, and we started running together. Then we stopped and splashed in more puddles. He stepped on my pants and completely muddied me and his own jeans were soaked. As we headed back I kept thinking about the creative mix of relief, joy, sweetness, sadness, and love that was swirling around me.

And somehow, peace. The peace that comes when I let go, trust, love, and take a moment to breathe in the breeze, admire the pink-streaked sky, and stomp in puddles.