Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

He’s so special…

Saturday, October 31st, 2009

Today is Happy Moving Day.  And we are VERY excited about it.  I finished the paperwork yesterday at the apartment complex, and I drove by with the kids to make sure that I knew where I was going.  It’s a good location, close to one of the entrances, looking out into a very private back common area.  I like that.  The pool is but a short drive away.  We’re all about convenience.

The past week has been a challenge.  Being homeless isn’t for the feint of heart.  It requires a lot of organization, a sense of humor, and a great deal of flexibility.  We spent the week bouncing back and forth between couches, staying at Spring and Jay’s mostly, but also with Danny and Makenzie one night.

Based on the comments on the blog, I see that once again, Rachel is taking center stage and some people are utterly unaware of Keenan’s existence.  Believe me when I say he had his time, and for once, he might just be happy to be out of the spotlight.  He spent years under the microscope, having every sniffle, every sneeze analyzed and weighed.  And all of that has had an impact.

I see Keenan, trying to, in his own quiet way, fit in.  The other night, I was sitting on one end of the couch, Jay was on the other, and soon enough…Keenan had non-chalantly wedged himself between us.

Jay is the male of the house.  The only male.  Keenan is the male of…our family.  And soon, they are bonding, watching something on mummies, one of Keenan’s FAVORITE historic areas of study.  (He devoured all the non-fiction at the library one summer a few years back, one civilization at a time.)  And I realize that he’s mirroring Jay.  And it kind of breaks my heart.

Keenan is the sweet sensitive one of the family.  I don’t think he’s ever spoken a truly unkind word.  I don’t think he’s ever raised his voice.  I can’t remember a time he’s really complained.  I don’t think he’s ever been a typical boy. 

Yeah, I may have over-mothered him at the beginning.  He was SO LITTLE, my 30 week premie, coming home before he was even 4lbs.  And he was fragile.  Any minor ailment could have finished him off.  And we did bond a lot, spend much time together between the doctor visits, the hospital visits, the surgeries (I lost count of how many), the therapy sessions (five nights a week with three different therapists at the apartment for nearly three years).  So, yeah, he may be a tad different from other boys.  I did my best.

He’s alive.  So I did something right.  He can read and write and think and speak.  I did something right.  He still wants to sit next to me, hug me, and kiss me.  He will throw an arm around my shoulder, since he’s almost my height, when he thinks I need it.  And he’s usually right.  This must mean I did something right.

So, I worry some, how he’ll turn out, surrounded by strong women.  (Although I don’t feel so strong right now.)  I worry that I’ll damage him.  I’m doing my best.  And that means that before I bring another male into my life, I have to ask myself if he will understand that my kids are special.  I’m not raising deal breakers, they are gifts…and I know it. 

What did I ever do to deserve them? 

I must have done something right.

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