When you record yourself reading “All The Hippos Go Berserk” by Sandra Boynton.
At top volume and with much expression.
I got some of the sweetest little voice messages from the littles I used to take care of.
The family and I did a FaceTime session early in the week and I have been getting all sorts of pictures of them and their adventures during shelter in place.
I miss them a lot and I miss the snuggles.
Tonight, while I was in session with my last client of the day, the mom sent me voice recordings of the kids saying “I love you.”
Oh my God.
I just about died.
I have been thinking about sending the littlest guy a recording of the “hippo book” as he calls it.
“You read me the hippo book!”
I bought the book and “Belly Button Beach”, also by the same author, as birthday gifts for him when he was two.
Listening to him repeat back the words to me still makes my heart melt.
I often would read them to him at nap time.
“I’ll read the hippos once and then nap time,” I would tell him.
The last time I did that was the last time I worked for the family, my last time putting him down for a nap.
My last time reading him the hippo book.
When I finished he said, “sing me song.”
That undid me.
I sang him my standard lullaby, “Hush little baby,” and choked back the tears.
Might have been the hardest lullaby ever to sing.
He fell asleep holding my hand.
Oh, my heart.
Such a sweet guy.
So, after receiving the sweet voice messages I knew I had to record the book.
I have the damn thing memorized, so it wasn’t too hard, and I threw in a little commentary for the little guy too.
We would have our own little conversations about the story and what all the silly hippos were doing.
Then I sent it to the mom and asked that she play it while he looked at the book.
They sent me back video of him looking at the book while my voice was reading it to him and he talked back at the phone like I was there.
“I love you Carmen,” he said again and again.
That was the best part of my day.
It was a pretty good day too.
Only cried three or four times.
Mostly during supervision with my supervisor talking about my clients and all the fear and anxiety and terror that so many of them are going through.
I have had 21 therapy sessions this week, I have one left for tomorrow, then Sunday off before I dive back in.
I am doing pretty well holding it all, but it does leak out at times.
It is right there at the top of my heart and I can’t always contain it and the tears spill out of my eyes and roll down my face.
I am so grateful for my individual supervisor, she really held my stuff today and let me process all the stuff and work my way through the muck.
Most of the time I am really good at shaking myself out when I finish with clients and I have little routines and rituals at my office that help me do that.
But right now.
My office is my desk, which is also where I study and work on my homework–which frankly has suffered this week, I will not lie.
My office is my desk, my laptop, my phone, the video camera in my Macbook Air, all of which are located in my house.
My one room studio.
Thank God it’s a big studio, but it’s still a challenge.
I am also aware of how lucky, really, really, really lucky, it is that I can work from home.
Despite how much I love and adore the family I used to nanny for, I would not be able to nanny right now for them even if I was still employed.
The timing of the situation coinciding with me making the full transition over to being a psychotherapist still astounds me.
I am beyond grateful.
And I am working my ass off to stay stable and grounded, to eat good food, to cook nice meals, to take walks when I can, to wear nice clothes, put on my makeup, do my hair.
The only concession I have to the fact that I am doing my therapy practice out of my home right now is that I wear my Tretorn sneakers instead of my Fluevog heels.
I had a fleeting, and I do mean fleeting, moment when I giggled to myself, I could do my therapy sessions in my bunny slippers.
Um.
NO.
Bad idea.
Not just because I couldn’t take myself seriously as a psychotherapist if I was doing sessions in my slippers, but I love that at the end of the day I can slide off my shoes and put on my slippers and that indicates to me that my day is done.
That was what I used to do when I was coming home from the office and my day out in the world–get home, kick off my shoes and put on my bunny slippers.
Yeah.
I know.
I am a 47 year old woman who wears bunny slippers.
I once had a lover tell me he couldn’t take me seriously when I was wearing them.
Of course that just made me want to wear them more.
In fact, it is almost slipper time.
I have had a good day.
It’s ok that I cried and it’s ok that sometimes it’s hard and it’s ok that I’m not keeping up with my my homework.
Actually we are on “Spring Break” so I don’t have any thing due, but I have a lot of work to do for two big up coming papers and a class that I am going to be teaching.
But over all.
I am ok.
I am making it through and staying grounded.
It definitely helped to get silly and record myself reciting the story, helped remind me of how loved I am and how lucky I was to have the nanny job with the family for the three years and three months I worked with them.
And.
Really.
Bunny slippers do make things a lot better.
Seriously.
Auntiebubba 