Thought Mutation

Childhood, Mental Health, Parenting, Random poetry Add comments

Hi 🙂

 

From Random Word Generator

 

After I had proceeded

To murder my good mood,

My thoughts weren’t satisfied

And moved onto obscure stuff

Said decades ago.

 

Each line was cast up:

Every last jibe from the school yard;

From a night out when I

Worked for some retailer or other…

 

All the bitter fruit

Arranged upon my sheet

Decaying as I watched;

 

The ooze morphing,

Collecting,

Becoming that final mutation

That will swallow me whole one day.

 

Eldest told me about how good his new teacher was at quelling any silly behaviour in his class today.  He told me that they were now “the best class” and they could still bring in Golden Time Toys on a Friday.

He said that the work he was set felt like Primary 1 tasks, and he sailed through them.  He had ham sandwiches for lunch, and they were not yucky. 

When we picked him up at hometime, he met us with a big grin and was delighted that he got to go ‘up the hill’ at the back of the playground, and scout out the den he had made with a school friend during the Summer.  He also played on the ‘trim trail’ equipment outside.

Eldest had a good cuddly time with Youngest while they watched the tablet together before dinner, and expressed how much he had missed his brother.  We all sat together and had dinner, giggling about Yoda’s Seagull Song that the boys have been watching on YouTube and I have got stuck in my head. 

After dinner was ‘daddy time’, where the kids got to build more train tracks.  There was no homework, it being the first day back 😉

But by bedtime, Eldest had thought of a raft of reasons why tomorrow would be a bad day, and he did NOT want to go back to school.

As he spoke, I realised that I do the same as him: take a great day and tell myself it was a one off and that it would be foolish to be lulled into a false sense of security by it.  I reminded him that no matter how bad a day it was, his family would still be here to tell him they love him – and that there are always good things to look forward to, like cuddles, games and funny videos to share with each other.

He countered with the ‘fact’ that school days get longer from now: that the work gets harder and the people around us are not always nice (or predictable). 

Whereas I couldn’t deny the truth of these comments (who hasn’t felt like schooldays have dragged on for a ridiculously long time?!) I again told him that I was always willing to hear about anything that made him feel bad, and I would unwaveringly have a big cuddle for him, no matter HOW old he gets. 

He didn’t look like the world suited him any better, but he did let me stroke his head for a while before asking me to leave 😉

I wrote tonight’s poem thinking about how nice it would be if I could find it within myself to speak encouragingly in my own ear, to ward off my demons with the fire of self-belief and acceptance every time they tried to surround me.

Wouldn’t that be something…?

 

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