W tried out a class at a kid’s gym yesterday afternoon. I wanted him to try it out before committing to classes because if he wasn’t ready to follow the structure I didn’t want to fork over money. The place gave the kids lots of free play time to run around and then they were clear when it was time for class to begin. W did great! There were some activities that were out of his comfort level (swinging) and I could see himself pushing to try. I was so proud of him. The best were the moments when he was proud of himself and he would turn to catch my eyes where I was sitting in the lobby with the other parents.
Being able to sign him up for a class like this feels good. When we lived in Maryland I remember feeling like SUCH a shit mother because I couldn’t take W to all of those “Mommy and Me” or music classes I knew other kids his age were going to. I couldn’t afford the class and we couldn’t afford spending the gas money. Not being able to do that for him was a bruise I had for a while. I know it didn’t matter in the long run, but it just made me feel like I wasn’t doing stuff for W. Stuff that OTHER kids were doing.
Oh the emotional baggage of poverty is some serious shit.
I am thrilled that W will officially start classes next week and thrilled that this will be something that will also help with the OT that he is getting at school.
For the first time in a year (not even kidding) I am wearing blue jeans. The last time I wore blue jeans was at the Aiming Low NonCon last October. Just before I found out I was pregnant. My body, and specifically my gut, has been a nuisance ever since. And while I was ok (ish) with buying larger shirts once I was too fat to fit into my clothes I refused to buy larger jeans. No way. Nope. Not going to do it.
This morning I put on blue jeans. And they fit. This is a big deal for me. I feel like a regular person.
I got a hair cut this morning. 11 inches gone and in the mail to Children With Hair Loss. My hair has become such a beast this last year. Too long, too tangled, too heavy, and full of memories I wanted to let go. It felt good to have it cut off and it felt even better to be able to send it to an organization that could do something positive with it.