The boys start school next week.. J starts kindergarten. He'll be ok. He's a pretty agreeable kid. He gives me a lot of shit, but for the general public, (with the exception of my mother) he is very good. R starts preschool.. Oh boy, this could be something. He is super social and fun and funny.. but he doesn't like change. And this is going to be a big change for him. I know he'll love it once he gets into it, but the adjustment period is going to be tricky.
I've been having daily anxiety attacks. I wake up to them every single morning. EVERY morning. I wake up around 4:30/ 5ish, with the horrible chest pains and stomach ache. I do the deep breathing excersizes to ease the tension on my chest. It helps in the moment, but after the immediate relief of fresh clean oxygen to my organs wears off, the anxiety finds it's way right back to my chest and heart. It's a pretty miserable existence. It's not all about the scariness of sending my boys out into the world. There's so much to be scared of right now. I just started a new semester of school, that is supposed to be my safety net to bounce me and the boys into a new life of financial security. It's one class... that meets twice a week, totalling 5 hours/ week... plus a 3 hour lab/ week... and then there's the required co-requisite that goes with it to ensure we understand the material.
Oh, it's such a good time.
I'm completely overwhelmed, emotionally, mentally, and all of that jazz.
I just watched the movie called, "Our idiot brother" on Showtime. It was funny, cute.. the kinda movie you'd never pay a ticket to see, but gladly watch at home. Lots of story lines going on, but one that hit home with me was the love of the main character and his dog. It was a very small component of the movie, but it stirred my emotions. It brought me back to those couple of weeks without my pups.. and how much I missed them and truly do love them. I've gotten them to the point where I can walk them without leashes.. they just follow me and the boys where we go, and don't ever go off without us. The level of trust and love is visible. You can literally look at the way the pups look at us and understand the bond.
Lately I've been letting my brain go to that place that knows that dogs don't live forever. They live longer today than they did generations ago, but their days are numbered, none the less. My pups are 8 1/2. They'll be 9 in March. Every day is a gift at this point, because you just never know when it comes to animals. They can't (and wouldn't, if they could) complain about their aches and pains.
There was a point in my marriage when I said to my (ex) husband that I "do believe that these puppies have made you realize what it feels like to really love someone." When we first got the pups, it was the weekend we got married. He huffed and puffed about their yippin and yappin and their puppy cries. Then, after I worked a double shift and he was alone with them for almost 24 hours alone, he bonded with them. He snuck them pizza and eased them out of their crate and into his heart. I'd never seen him express his emotions the way he did when I saw him snuggling them that night when I got home.
I love those pups. I do. And one day, they won't be here with me anymore. They've seen it all. The thick and thin of it all. My second son, R, adores them. I really hope they stay here a long long time and keep bringing us more joy than frustration. I do love my pups in so many ways. I love how they have the magical power to make a man learn what love is despite never having learned love as a child. Puppies... they are magic. They are love in the purest sense.
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