A Conundrum

[caption id="attachment_4710" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="I just like this photo of Ben on his 7th birthday."][/caption]

Recently we purchased a tandem bike for Ben (a small bike pulled by a bigger bike).  Ben, being BEN!, was extremely excited about this latest development in his life.  On Sunday morning, we took a family bike ride, our first ever.  During the bike ride, I had one of those moments where I was so incredibly in love with my family, it felt as if my heart would explode and maybe butterflies would fly out or rainbows or unicorns (sure, it may have been endorphin produced euphoria, still).  Ben took us to one of his favorite spots around Lake Mendota, where he has a secret "island" hide out, there are several trees where the branches grow close to the ground, allowing easy climbing and hiding from bad guys, should you run into any.  The whole morning felt as if we were on vacation, absolutely perfection without even trying.

Now contrast that to just a week earlier, when we all went to the Aldo Leopold Nature Center to spot some animals (we saw a family of cranes!)   There was a moment during our visit, when we were all standing by a pond and I had this feeling of both missing Ellie's presence and knowing that we

[caption id="attachment_4712" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="Ben biking."][/caption]

would absolutely not all be there at that spot if Ellie were physically here.  It was as if I were straddling two moments of time--the family we used to be with Ellie and the family we are becoming with Lotta and Ben.  But I digress.  Ben just had a challenging time the whole time we were there.  Everything but everything was upsetting. His melt downs were bigger and bed-der (one of Ellie's favorite plays on words, which she discovered worked bed-der if she was actually in a bed) than ever.   And, just as Ben is exuberant in his expression of what he likes, he is just as exuberant in expressing what he does not.  And loudly.  Leaving me feeling as if I needed to somehow change him or me or something to reduce their occurrence. I felt myself caught in a conundrum (another of Ellie's favorite words).  On the one hand, I want Ben to get out his sadness, disappointment, anger, all those uncomfortable feelings.  On the other hand I want him to be able to express these emotions in a productive way, in a way that he can elicit the assistance he needs from whatever environment he is in.  Is that too much to ask of a just-turned 7-year-old?  Maybe.

What a lot of changes have occurred for Ben over the past year and a half.  Transforming from a big brother when before he was a little brother.  He tries so very hard to cheer us

[caption id="attachment_4711" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="Lotta and Ben."][/caption]

up when he feels us missing Ellie.  He seems to take on all those big, scary feelings for us, even though I would never ask him to do so.  It must be exhausting at times to carry this burden on such small shoulders.  I am left wondering how I, as his mother, can be of the most assistance to him.

Then sweet Lotta feels like it is her sole purpose for being on the planet to go and comfort her brother.  When she hears him upset, she gasps, "BEN!" and races to his side.  She gives him hugs and kisses.  Oh little Lotta kisses.  Rubs his head like he is a kitty cat.  Then when Ben is back to his chipper happy self, he gets down on his knees and asks Lotta to marry him.  Because when someone treats you with that kind of love, why wouldn't you marry them?  (Besides the law against it, I know I know, highly challenging to explain to a 1st grader, I tried).

I suppose Lotta showed me the answer to my conundrum, to treat Ben with love and kindness when he is having a hard day.  And I suppose this blog has shown me what a difference a week can make...