When I was a child, my mother would plan an event or outing for me close to the day after Christmas or Easter or my birthday. This was because when any of those events was over, I would launch into a sadness that having something else to look forward to helped to ease.
It sounds silly, crying because Christmas was over, but I remember this sadness vividly. Possibly because I still experience it, though I'm not prone to tears when these events are over. Now, it's not just holidays. It's vacations or a visit from a friend or anything major that I've had an opportunity to look forward and anticipate. Craig has often fielded the "can't we stay just one more day" request from me more than once. I am usually good for very little a day or two after we get home from a trip.
Unfortunately, this trait has been passed on to my children. Cara has literally cried over spilled milk the day after a party. Their sadness and inevitable meltdown comes like clockwork. It's often not a matter of IF it's going to happen; it's just a matter of what is going to be the catalyst.
As with many of my posts, I tell this backstory in order to recount something that just happened.
We had just come off of a week-and-a-half, activity-filled vacation in Colorado, followed by a week of having the kids' cousins stay with us. Then, on a Tuesday, I took Cara to the airport to spend a week with her grandparents and came back to the house in time for Connor and I to say goodbye to his cousins and grandpa, who were returning to Colorado. A mass exodus leaving a once-bustling house feeling quite empty.
The Tuesday this all happened was fine. Wednesday was another story.
It started when Connor asked if he could download a game for his tablet. The game had "war" in the title and I deemed it inappropriate for him. This was the spilled milk, though today, it was more of a time-release capsule.
An hour later, Connor remembered that he was upset about my answer about the game and launched into a full-on crying festival, complete with hiding under the table and hitting a pillow. When Connor is angry or sad, he does NOT want to talk about it. In fact, trying to get him to talk prolongs the episode. So, I let him go, reminding him now and again that it was fine to be upset with me.
When he had finally calmed down enough to be able to use words, he asked for markers, paper, and tape.
|Contemplating his anger.|
|The masterpiece: A broken heart with the words "I'm leving"|
And with that, he was gone....