Settling In

First thank you so much for responding to yesterdays post. I really didn't mean to come across as a whiny weirdo blogger which is kind of what I thought when I read it again. I really do love this place, where I record this amazing time in our lives and where I can tell you about my innermost weird feelings, speaking of which read on......

So Brodie didn't really need a settling in period at nursery. He was, just, you know - settled. He's happy to go, happy to stay and happy to come home again. Sometimes he likes to talk about it, sometimes he doesn't. By all accounts he is charming and polite at nursery. 

As predicted the whole experience has been challenging for me. For Brodie it's just been a natural spreading of his wings. A little further from me and home. A place to explore and new things to learn. 

It's brought up a lot of things for me. Let's call them 'feelings'. It's made me uncomfortable at times and sad at others. I've had to think about why I'm finding it hard to allow someone qualified and capable and kind look after Brodie.  I have trust issues with handing over my heart and soul (in the body of a little boy) to someone else even for two hours. 

I had a huge panic one night and asked Greig if he really had to go, if it really was the best for him. I may even have mentioned 'homeschooling'.  Luckily my husband is endlessly patient and eminently sensible and is experienced in dealing with such panic.

It didn't help that Brodie has taken a sudden interest in guns, weapons and killing people. I don't think it's coincidence. I know that mixing with other kids is going to throw things like this into our (his) sphere of experience but it still makes me sad. 4 year olds don't need to think about violence. 

I always tell Greig what I really need is one of those giant inflatable bubble things that you get in and run down a hill. (Quick Google search) It's called zorbing apparently, who knew? I need a zorb to put Brodie in so I can send him out into the world and he can see out and nothing can touch him. Nothing sharp, nothing dangerous and nothing you know, weird.

And as I re read that last paragraph I'm mildly aware that I sound like a woman on the the edge of lunacy. I know that he has to go out into the world, that he has to experience things. I know there are a million wonderful things just waiting to unfold for my boy. I just also know that he's going to come home with hurts. Sore bits and sometimes surely heartache of some sort. While he develops into a bigger boy who knows more and sees more and does more, unpleasant things are bound to be thrown into the mix. Because that's the nature of life. The good and the bad.  

And already my heart hurts a bit for that. Sigh. Why is this so difficult?