My precious Mel is grieving again.
He's been home for 15 months. It took me a little while to figure it out. This strong, confidant, vibrant kid was dissolving into tears over the most minor of things. Is he sick? Is he tired? Growth spurt? And then it hit me. He is crying the way he did when he first came home. The difference is, he seeks out our comfort instead of fights it. So my little guy invents things to be sad about in order to seek out comfort. He can't spend enough time with me. If I cannot hold him because I am cooking, he will hold onto my leg so I can carry him around that way. If I am stuffing envelopes, he will help me by sitting on my lap. He will not however, lick the envelopes. "That's yuck!" He will cry for 40 minutes while I cook because he doesn't know what he wants, but he doesn't want what I've made. He will tell me that he's not eating it and if he's hungry later it's my fault. I gently but firmly let him know that what I've made is what's for dinner, and if he's hungry later it is his fault because he didn't eat it. I kiss him and hug him and make a plate for him. He cries a little longer, sees that I am not angry and I haven't gone anywhere, and that I have not made him something different, and he is comforted. And he eats.
I think that the control struggle about what to eat is an example of where he is seeking reassurance. He tests me to make sure that I am in control. If I am not in control, he is lost.
I think there will be more days like this and I am grateful. I am grateful that he is comfortable enough to test the boundaries.
Oh, my baby.
There are boundaries.
And he does.