The Last Thing He Said

While I laid next to him, his back to me, the last thing Bowie said before he fell asleep was, "Mama and Bowie are friends." Oh my. He's totally blowing me away! Sweetness and so much expressiveness.

Of course there are the episodes of throwing things, saying, "nope. no thanks. nope. i don't want that anymore." (the "anymore" seems to go after every contrary comment lately.) They are intense periods that really test my patience, compassion, and creativity. But they pass. They always pass. I know that the majority of the time it's so wonderful and easy. Writing here, in Bowie's 2nd year journal, writing letters (I wrote two letters to him this year, for the future Bowie) and taking photographs all helps me keep in that place of gratitude and empathy through a good deal of those trying episodes.

But, I did yell at Bowie a few days ago. The second time I've yelled at him. I was trying to do dishes and he broke a vase and pulled the lid off a pot and I just broke. He had been pouring things out on the floor, getting into every snack in the house with his stepladder (he LOVES it) and I just didn't have an ounce of patience left for a split second. I yelled, "Get out of the kitchen! Just go! Go out!" He stood there in the doorway looking at me, after having run away from the scary crash of the le cruset stock pot lid. And I immediately knew that I had to stop doing dishes. I crouched down beside him, told him that I was angry and I got loud and that I was sorry. I hugged him and told him that even if I was angry, I always loved him. I left the dishes in the hot water and we sat on the couch to read. We just had to connect. He needed it; I needed it. I was then able to do the dished later (though in cooler water, Yuck!)

And Bowie and mama are still friends...bless his little/immense forgiving essence.