I posted yesterday but you wouldn't know that because for some reason the notification didn't go. I got suspicious when I toted up three reads in the last 24 hours. That says to me that there was a technical glitch of some kind. I tried to get it to notify you but it just wouldn't cooperate. So now I'm posting to say simply that you may have missed a killer post yesterday, all about moving and how trying it can be, even when you're moving to your own slice of heaven.
Also, I wanted to mention that there's a slim chance that Isaac may have been seized by a dark presence since the night we slept in the new house. I say slim to comfort myself. Really unlikely! However here's some data…
1) At the new house he was making us and our guests come into the "great room" (aka the living room, but the realtors called it the great room, much to Ben's annoyance, and it's the part of the house from 1831) to hear a private guitar concert. Our friend asked Isaac the title of the piece he had just played, and Isaac replied, "It's called 'God of the Underworld.'"
I'll admit the great room scares me a little bit. Just a lot of history, I guess. Anyway, later that night, around midnight:
2) I woke up to a strange sound. Really a scary sound if you ask me. Sort of a persistent slap/thump sound that didn't have any known explanation. Lena woke up a woofed at it, too. I got up and walked into the great room. It's rather huge, 30×19, with light wood floors that have a ripple to them. Not flat. The walls are dark wormy chestnut. Isaac sat in the middle of this large empty space, cross-legged, with his back to me. Something about his small back and the rolling sea of wood reminded me of The Omen. Also it was so late and he was doing something with his hands that was making the sound. I expected him to turn around with his eyes glowing, or eating raw liver, or something like that. I said, "Isaac, what are you doing?" And he turned around (normal!! phew!) and said, "I can't sleep." Then I saw what he was doing: thrashing a large rubber snake on the floor. That was making the slap/thump sound. Oh sure, I thought. Like this is what a normal child does in the middle of the night! Just comes in here and flogs the floor with a rubber snake to soothe his nerves!
3) The next morning he was sitting with a rock in the middle of the terrace. Doing something. What are you doing? He answered with a grim coldness in his voice: "Killing everything." Fortunately he just meant the ants. But still! There's no need to kill ants. Now I've made a rule that he can only kill two bugs: flies and mosquitoes. My mother added wood ticks. Those he can smash with a hammer — yippee! He can't wait! So three bugs: flies, mosquitoes, and wood ticks. Then we read about some locust borer bug thing that kills the trees, and so now we're up to four bugs he can kill. He seems to be researching such that he can expand this list. I ask you– is this healthy?
But on the other hand, for all the stress we've been under, he has also had uncanny moments of cooperativeness and kindness. The sort of kissing, sweet moments that pop out and surprise me. The sudden "mama, I love you so!" type moments . The spontaneous putting away of Lincoln Logs without being asked! The formal "will you accept my apology?" interludes of regret for past wrong-doing! So, okay, I don't really think he's a Bad Seed. He does have Bad Seed moments, of course, but I think he's actually holding up pretty well, considering that he's a very sensitive child and the stress in the house is clearly thick enough to be knife-worthy.
Because we can't get through a day without someone going to the doctor: this morning baby woke up with a horrible rattle in his chest and a full-on wheeze. Now he seems fine again, only a cold, but the situation bears watching. I don't want him coming down with asthma too! Cleveland is the fourth most polluted city in the nation. (Also, the poorest– beating out even a post-Katrina New Orleans! Psyche!) Anyway, I'm happy to report that the air is much clearer at our new house and that bodes well for lungs, even if it is possibly a little haunted.