Finding His Voice

My heart and my mind have been consumed by the troubles of an under-funded school budget, the deceit of our local supervisors, and the constant worry of what the next school year brings.  I vacillate between feeling empowered and encouraged to feeling helpless and hopeless.  I struggle with finding a way to Advocate, Voice, Object, Persuade, and Fight what is happening in the local community with being Present, Patient, Loving, Tender, Gentle, Fun, and Funny with my children.  I keep saying that fighting the Board of Supervisors is my new full-time job, yet my Career - my Aidan, my Leo, my Pax - wonders why their mom is so short-tempered and angry, why she keeps crying, why she keeps hyperventilating in front of the computer, and why she didn't shower until 4:30 this afternoon.  [If you know me even just a little, you know that this is EPIC.  Not showering until 4:30.]

I could go on, and on, and on.  And I might, at a later date and in a different post.  But now, I want to celebrate the gift that was handed to me, in a moment when I needed it most.

The boys were getting ready for bed.  Aidan was already in another room, engrossed in one of the later chapters of The Lightning Thief (Rick Riordan - Percy Jackson series).  Leo was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and practicing, for the umpteenth time, the song he'll sing tomorrow at preschool graduation.  Pax was alone in Aidan and Leo's room, and I was trying to hurry him along in his book selection.  With just the slightest twinge of frustration, I implored (for the fourth time), "PLEASE pick your book out-- Aidan, or Leo, or whoever you are!"  

"Pax."  

I stared at him.

"Pax!"  he said again, with a grin.  He said it perfectly, pronouncing each sound so carefully, the proud grin stretching from one small ear to the other. He knew how good it sounded.  He knew that he was a Big Deal because of it.

I scooped him up.  I kissed him, I snuggled him, I laughed with him and asked him to say it, over and over again. We were triumphant.  "Pax!  Pax!  Pax!"  He loved the sound of his own name, and in that moment, when he named himself, I had a sudden realization of how long I've been waiting for this day, how much my heart has ached for this time to come.  My "late talker," who has made such arduously slow growth in his expressive language over this last year, whom I worry about endlessly - here he was, correcting me, asserting himself in the lineup of brothers, claiming his very own name.

Pax found his Voice, and I found the Pax - the inner peace - I've been seeking all week.