L has been working hard on getting the walls ready to paint. He got the wallpaper torn off, which has been the easiest part since it was like vinyl. Next came scraping the glue off, which the following picture shows in it's clumped and gross looking form after being scraped off.
The next step we're on is finding any left behind patches of glue and smoothing everything out. Then I think we'll be ready to paint...hopefully this weekend or the following week. I'm working on a wall pattern as well...though I'm still in the brainstorming process right now.
I wrote this to a friend the other day: "I do like being a mother. It's fairly inexplicable the emotions I have for him. They are so far expanded beyond what I felt for Lyra...just for the sheer fact that he's a continually changing child. She's forever a baby, a memory. He's learning and growing and now smiling. It's interesting and confusing how I feel about my two children."
Some days it feels like she never existed. And I hate that. Like it was just a bad dream. And yet it's a relief too (which I also hate). Like there can be good days, and even some all in a row. And being happy to some degree. Being in a new house and the time Simon takes almost makes it possible to look normal again. ALMOST. And looking normal doesn't mean anything. Because ultimately I know I'm just compartmentalizing my feelings right now. I know I'm still broken. I know there is a part of me that can't believe I have a dead daughter. And angry that it is true. And as most any rainbow baby mama will write about, it sucks to know all that you missed out on with your dead child, while you watch your rainbow baby grow.
I keep singing the same song...Simon is a joy and I miss Lyra.