I have an aunt I love. Okay, she’s actually a second cousin once removed, or something like that, but she has stood in the aunt position my whole life, and in my family, that means a lot. I know that I could show up at her door any time of day or night forever and receive nothing but love and help.
I also know that she would not want to hear most of what actually really pains me. It’s not that she’s blind to stuff like abuse, it’s more that she loves my parents and would never want to hear anything about them that was negative. And somehow, that’s fine with me. It’s totally unnecessary in our relationship. She dispenses grilled cheese and chocolate milk (still) and that is sometimes all one really needs.
One of the ways she shows love is by forwarding email that sparkles and tells me that I am special and loved – with a forward list the size of my arm and an exhortation to send it to my ten best friends. And many years she buys me Hallmark-type cherubim or pastel Christmas ornaments or whatever. I read and open the gifts and then I am sorry to say that the email ends up in the trash folder and the ornaments end up donated to whichever resale charity has my attention that month, except the Christmas ornaments, because I’m totally prepared to hang them on the tree in case she ever sees the tree. Christmas is one time of year where I’m prepared to suspend my taste that way; the tree to me is not about the perfect look, but the web of connection it represents, a continuity of decor from year to year and family to family.
I hope that Noah will have such people in his life. It’s one reason we flew out West this summer.
I think even in the most cynical and swedish minimalism (err, that is, Ikea) decorated home, there’s room for a cherub or two.
Sorry for the lateness of response and out or orderness, I’ve just had the front to read and comment.
When D was in preschool he had a very hard time with transitions, we now know it was his own sensitivity to separations and his ADD issues, still then it was tremendously worrisome and hurtful to see his tears. What did help a great deal was creating “momma bear” for him to take to school. (It was a stuffed bear that we sat together and drew a heart with X&Os on, so he could take hugs and kisses from her when he felt he needed them. We explained it to the teacher and staff so he was aloud to go get it if needed or just keep it close.) This didn’t cure everything but it did help quiet a great deal of his anxieties at school. Maybe you and Noah can find something for him to carry with, to represent your parental comfort, while at school.
Another thing that did helped D’s transition and quiet our fears was volunteering at the school. We saw how things ran not as just a parent dropping by but as “volunteer staff.” This afforded us a view of how staff was with all the children, (not just D), a very good way to gauge how they were with D when we weren’t present. This was a much more traditional day care setting then Montessori, so I’m not even sure if this would be reasonable.
We still had tears at drop-off occasionally even after 6 months, pick-up was quicker to fall the way of his being too busy with school and friends so that he didn’t want to leave right away. This came with a wave of relief and a bit of sadness.
We worried for a good bit over both sons and the possibility of multiplicity. Neither developed any signs of being more then one.
I do hope the issues with your parents can be worked out to afford you comfort.
Margret