Today just felt like a massive fail. I went out at noon to do a handful of errands, and each sucked in some way. Actually, the bank was successful. I deposited my last BlogHer check, and got Addie a lollipop. That was a nice starting note. Next was the post office. Valerie’s birthday was days and days ago, and ON her actual birthday I bought her a card to send with a treat tucked inside. Since then I’ve been trying to buy a single stamp. Just one. I don’t want an entire roll, I want one first class stamp. Every other time I’ve gotten to the post office, it’s been closed. Here’s the thing about this area– it has a lot of city amenities, but it operates like a small town. Gas stations close at like 7 or 8. We have ONE gas station down the road that’s open 24 hours. The rest pretty much call it a day after dinner. The post office keeps small town hours, too. So I finally got over there today and the STAMP MACHINE IS BROKEN.

Whatever, I think. I’ll at least be able to sign Eli up for soccer. They just opened registration for non-residents this week, so I think I should be safe. Nope. Drive up and see a ALL YOUTH SPRING LEAGUES ARE FULL sign stuck to the front door. I don’t know why this is so devastating to me, but it is. I almost start crying. I’ve been promising Eli the soccer team for almost a month, and we were both so excited about him starting. I just feel like a lousy mom. I should’ve been able to make this happen. I should’ve made sure to get the car on Monday to be there when they opened, and signed him up then. (I do get on the wait list later. Which is a small consolation.)

I go to Walmart and spend too much on groceries. Go home and eat nachos. WHO CARES. Today’s shot, might as well indulge. I do play with Addie and nuzzle her soft belly, which makes me feel better. She is beyond sweet. Then Elias comes home, and nine seconds after scurrying in the door, he bursts into tears. “Baby,” I coo, “what’s up? What’s wrong?”

“I LOST MY RAINBOW CARDS,” he wails. “I PUT THEM IN MY BACKPACK AND NOW THEY AREN’T THERE AND MISS S LOOKED WITH ME AND WE COULDN’T FIND THEM AND NOW I HAVE NO YELLOW CARDS AND ELYAS DOES HAVE THEM! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? JUST-JUST GO TO ELYAS‘ HOUSE AND TAKE HIS CARDS?” He’s moved from misery into unfocused anger. “I GONNA BE SO MAD AT YOU!” he seethes.

“Why?” I wonder. I’m trying not to smile. I know this is Serious Business to him, but come on. “What did I ever do? I’m just trying to help you find them.”

“BECAUSE YOU NEED TO FIX EVERYTHING! THAT IS YOUR JOB! IF YOU DON’T DO THIS I’M– I’M NOT GONNA BE YOUR FRIEND!”

“HEY,” I warn him. He wipes his runny nose: “SORRY. I’M JUST FRUSTRATED.”

“Okay, why don’t we go back to school and look?” I suggest. He’s sated. When we pull up, his teacher is coming out of the building. She’s going running with a friend, and is all dressed up in athletic gear.

“Hi!” she waves, and I explain what’s happening. She says it’s no problem, she’ll let us come back in. When we get to the classroom, she suggests just giving Elias new Rainbow Cards. (The Rainbow Cards are reading flash cards. The color of the words is the level of difficulty. He seems to be doing pretty well with the words themselves, but we both forget to send them back so he’s a color or two behind some of his other friends.) His teacher and I discuss Eli’s fear of the wind. It’s escalated. A lot. A few days ago, he just didn’t like it. Now he is TERRIFIED of it. He begged to stay indoors during recess, and she let him today. He just sat at the window and watched the other kids play. Tomorrow, he has to go out. Miss S said that the guidance counselor suggested putting rocks in his pocket, to sedate his fear of blowing away. Elias will not put rocks in his pockets. He told Miss S he wanted me at recess to keep him safe. SO, since we were all of four feet from the playground, we walked out of the classroom and toward the jungle gym.

Okay, I did not expect what happened next: the kid blew a GASKET. I mean, NEVER. Never in my life have I ever seen the raw horror and panic that Elias displayed. He screamed like I was cutting his legs off, and hyperventilated, clawing at my shoulders. “GET ME OUT OF HERE!” he shrilled. “I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! DON’T MAKE ME DO THIS! DON’T DO THIS TO ME! AHHHH! THE WIND! THE WIND! THE WINNNDDD! NO GOD NO! DON’T!” He started kissing me all over my face, in quick succession, like the affection was a plea bargain. “PLEASE MOMMY PLEASE! PLEASE! I’M SO SCARED! I’M SO SCARED!”

My heart broke in half. I didn’t even know how to react, I was so in shock. “Shh, I got you,” I whispered, rubbing his neck. “Don’t worry. The wind isn’t that strong. Look at Addie.”

Addie stood on the cement sidewalk, mute and unblinking, looking at us with disbelief. “Hiya,” she finally greeted.

“See? Addie won’t blow away.”

He was having NONE OF IT. PLEASE SWEET JESUS, IF I LOVED HIM, PLEASE TAKE HIM TO THE CAR. I finally gave up. I wasn’t trying to traumatize him. I didn’t want it to be one of those things where being forced to confront a phobia makes it worse. We went into the car, and I tried futilely to reason with him. It was so hard, because he didn’t care what I was saying. He would agree with me about not blowing away, but it didn’t matter. The fear was still there. I really GOT that, because I’m the same way. He gets it from me. Remember the LHC? And me, at 25, lying awake at nights knowing it would probably not suck up the world in a black hole but I was terrorized by the idea anyway? I get that. I get how he can be so overwhelmed with an irrational concern. I told him about all the good things wind does. We can’t go to Disneyworld this summer without wind, right? Wind makes planes go. Wind can create power. Wind blows kites in the air, and wind cools you off on a hot day. Elias listened, his eyes clear blue pools of tears, his lower lip quivering. Besides, I said– the wind was probably so excited to see him! I mean, the wind is on the playground because it likes to play with kids. The wind blows sand around, and the wind bounces balls away. The wind is just trying to be friends.

This seemed to work the best with him; the friendship tactic. But he still wasn’t completely sold. I told him I would get him a heavy belt, or a ‘gravity belt’. No. He said he just needed to be in a wind-free bubble. I sadly had to nix that plan.

Finally, I told him I would come tomorrow at recess and watch him. I knew he was scared, but I loved him SO MUCH and I would never tell him to do anything, ever, that would hurt him or make him leave me. The wind would not blow him away. It was impossible. Not a chance. And if he could play with his friends tomorrow and not cry, and be brave, I would let him get a toy after school. (Whatever. I’m not above bribing. Heh.) He agreed, so– that’s the game plan. I’m sure it won’t go smoothly, but I’m going to try.

Afterward, he cried more. He curled into my arms in the office– climbing up in my lap while I worked– and rubbed his nose and eyes against my shirt. He balled into the fetal position and let me rock him. I like being needed like that. I hate seeing them upset, but I love being able to be a source of comfort. I love when they revert back into my babies. Elias offered me a shaky smile, and whispered: “You’re the best. I love you so much, Mommy. Thank you, thank you for making everything the best.”

Highlight of my entire week.

I had this dream last night where I gave birth to a third baby, a baby I wasn’t expecting, and it began to suffocate and turn blue in my arms and I didn’t know what to do. It eventually died and shriveled away into nothing. I woke up, despondent, wondering what it could possibly mean. I still don’t know.