Let’s see how posting from an iPad app works/looks.
We had a good weekend in terms of house stuff. Sky made a gorgeous new bench for the dining room. Seriously. Amazing. Then he added some shelving to the kitchen and it really made a huge difference. It feels so light and airy in there now. I painted our ugly stairs down to the 1st floor in some blues — not sure how I feel about it yet as we haven’t seen it in daylight yet. Luckily you can ALWAYS PAINT OVER WRONG PAINT. It’s magical.
*BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!*
The crummy aspect of the weekend was Rufus feeling super, super clingy and freaked out to be away from me or Sky for even a couple of minutes. He barely slept because he was in constant need of reassuring and cuddling. It’s impossible to pin down why little dudes act the way they do, but a big part of it (I think) is the insane firecrackers that have been going off constantly since last Sunday — the combo of Super Bowl partiers and legit Chinese/Lunar New Year in our neighborhood resulted in barrages at random intervals, usually just a house or two away – we’re talking 4 or 5 times an hour, all day, everyday. I forgot to tell my mom about it ahead of time and poor thing thought it was gunfire for the first hour or two. I actually love fireworks so didn’ think it would be too bad but as the week went on and the firecrackers continued it began to rattle Rufus quite a bit. I think he’s inherited my sensitive ears and it was rough going.
But we’ve done a lot of hand-holding and talking and looking at how fireworks work etc. etc. and I felt we’d turned a corner. Until this evening at 6:30 when someone let off what seemed like 10 M-80s in the street right next to our dining room. Poor Rufus almost felt out of his chair and jumped into my arms and turned into a little shivering non-talking ball for a good 10 minutes after that. It felt horrible knowing I couldn’t do anything to fix it – just tried to calm him, got him to a cozier space, and held him. He finally started talking again and wanted to go to his bed, like, then. In his jeans and shirt, no changing diapers, no pajamas, nothing. Just curled up in his bed like an armadillo with one arm clutching my shirt sleeve until he fell asleep. I hope it gets easier for him, and Jesus, cannot imagine living in an actual war zone where mamas can’t promise you’ll be safe. Ugh.