Tuesday turned out to be a lot like Monday for me. Solid burst of productive energy early, followed by a zombie-like state of exhaustion and drag much of the rest of the day.
I’m sure it was a mix of things. For one, after a lovely springlike few days, we woke up to a layer of snow on the ground. Luckily only temporary…this is Colorado in the springtime…but the cold and snow does make one want to crawl under covers and have some soup.
For another thing, it is still only the second day back to reality for most of us, and actually the first day back for Amelia, who was back at school after spring break. I think she was dragging a little too, but we all got to it and did our thing.
Henry had his usual morning therapy, and then was off to Pre-K in the afternoon. This is the first week he’s upping his days at Pre-K. He had been doing two half-days a week, and this week it’ll be three, then four half-days each of the following weeks. It’s good for him and he is enjoying it so far.
The day was pretty uneventful, all in all. Much like the previous night, by the kids’ bedtime I was also wiped out and ready to face plant. But I’m trying to make time for writing each night, and had flaked out the night before due to exhaustion. I didn’t think I had much in me, but wanted to at least do a little bit before bed.
I’m working on my book recap of the past year, and that has meant reviewing old posts from along the way. I know I’ve said this before, and it will certainly be a main point in the book, but I can’t emphasize enough how valuable making notes of every day has turned out to be.
I am surprised at how many moments I come across that I would have otherwise forgotten about. Many of them small little moments, and the one I came upon last night was one of those. It was way back on Day 130, and it was about how Henry caught me in a rushing to work moment and quietly asked me to play with him. I took the moment and shared some time playing in his sensory bin with him.
I had completely forgotten about this, and looking back on it brought a gusher of emotions to me. First of all, it was a great example of a moment where my son taught me something. I was then and still now have a tendency to get caugh up in what needs to be done, I can miss the opportunities for real quiet connection. I was thankful Henry invited me into this one.
Secondly, this was written during the period of time where we had received Henry’s autism diagnosis, but I wasn’t writing openly about it. I see hints of it in that post, and now I can see how I was trying to process it as best I could in that moment.
And third, it hit me how important that little moment was, because it was a quiet pause in the middle of one of the craziest periods of the pandemic. I would have been walking around back then carrying the stress of the pandemic, fear for the safety and stability of our family, confusion and fear about what Henry’s diagnosis would mean, and so much more. Even though I didn’t write about any of that then, re-reading that post brought it back to mind for me. If I hadn’t written it down, this experience on that day very likely would have been lost to the ether.
I’m sharing all of this because I’m learning what a sieve memory can be, and how both small moments and large perspective get steamrolled by the passage of time. I would humbly submit to anyone reading this that taking a few minutes to jot down a few notes about your days…even if just a few times a week…can really be an instructive experience. It’s amazing what you’ll discover from own experience a little later down the line.
