Train, Pain, and Bus Adventures

Last night was a tough one.  I didn't sleep terribly well.  The pain woke me up more than once, as did a desire to roll over.  Thing is I normally don't sleep the whole night on my back, but, instead, curl up on one side or the other. Staying on my back is tough and makes me restless, I think.  Also I can't tell if things are getting better or not because mornings are always the WORST. I felt pretty worn down and discouraged this morning because of it, too.

But... we got Mason to school via the train and bus.  Shawn has loaned me her Go Pass and you can use it to pay for more than one person.  The only thing that's weird about it is that you don't get a physical ticket (or at least I couldn't figure out how to get one) and that made me nervous.  Nervous enough that I just went ahead and purchased a ticket for Mason, so I may have inadvertently given MTC an extra couple of dollars today.  

Mason really wanted to use our lack of car as an excuse to stay home today.  He was VERY grumpy on the way to school.  He's not fond of that sorts of things that I've learned to classify as "adventures."  He much prefers a map, a compass, and a schedule, complete with a list of unexpected events, if you know what I mean.  And, he really, really hates the fact that I'm the sort of person who says, "Oh, here's a bus, let's see if it's going the way we want to and hop on!"  He particularly hates that my breezy, laissez faire attitude usually works out in our favor 9 times out of 10.  He was especially annoyed as we got off the 62 bus a block from the street that led to his school and we were there about ten minutes earlier than we usually get there by car.  He gave me a sour look and sighed, "Cripes.  We should do this every day."

Poor baby.

I wish I'd managed to instill in Mason the ability to enjoy the 'off the road' moments in life, but he's just not that sort.

It's so hard to realize that our children are not copies of ourselves, no matter how hard we wish they would be.  

I told him to day that I think he's a new(er) soul--that he hasn't been this way much before--and that's why it's hard for him to roll with the punches. But then again, maybe he _is_ more pragmatic than I am (which is what he usually tells me). He might be right because I have a tendency to believe that most things will work out--at least the little things in life. I used to believe the big things would, too, but that was before Ella.  Losing her made me a lot less trusting in the universe.

Which is probably part of why I'm having such trouble with my slow recovery. I don't entirely trust that it WILL get better.  Maybe I just need to think off all this as an adventure in pain.  :-)