It's Morning Time

Erica almost always wakes up in a very good mood. One of the very cute things she does is announce, "It's morning time, it's time to get up," in a very happy little voice. I usually ask, "How do know it's morning?" Her answer, "Because it's not dark out anymore." Then she giggles, and she's ready to get out of bed. Which, by the way, is still a crib. She doesn't mind the crib and I'm not working too hard to change it - she's contained and the crib fits in the girls' bedroom, so there's no rush to get her out of it in my mind. We'll worry about the updated sleeping arrangements once we make some progress with potty training.

So, no matter how tired I am or how many morning crankies I have, I get a great start to my morning thanks to little miss sunshine.

Worry

I know that this is self-centered and not necessarily fair, but I want to know what people who have healthy children and good health themselves worry about. Often, I think that our lives would be so simple and so relaxed if Julia were a 'normal' child. There is no doubt that I love this girl thoroughly and with my whole heart and soul...that is not the issue here. I love her for the person she is, and I don't often travel down the road of imagining what she would be like if she didn't have Aicardi Syndrome.


But, the draining stress of worrying about issues both big and small is wearing me down. What to do about balancing seizure control and too many meds (we're not doing very well on either front as Julia's seizures have been in the not completely awful, but not great range while she is still on three different seizure meds), what to do about inclusion at school (my gut feel is that Julia should be spending more meaningful time with her regular ed class, but no one can seem to figure out how to do it), new mystery issues (her teacher pointed out that Julia has not been using her right leg/foot - sure enough, after studying her for the last couple of days, she really is not using her foot and she seems to be using her right hand much less as well - I'm in overdrive coming up with very scary explanations for why this might be happening), working to find a nurse (we were hoping that we would find someone we had no doubts about, but instead we're doing a trial run with someone we're not 100% sure about). All of this is on top of regular doctor appointments, brace fittings, winter illnesses, forms and paperwork and just everyday life. Not to mention, I am really busy at work and can't seem to get caught up.

Breathe in, breathe out. My head knows that I just need to tackle these stuff one step at a time, but some days, I just don't want to deal with it.

On the bright side, my capacity for handling stress in a somewhat healthy way has increased by about 200% since the time Alex was a baby. If only the number of things to worry about had not increased by 250%, I would be one zen woman.

I guess God did not intend for me to be zen. Perhaps he has an inkling that I would turn into a complete couch potato if things got too relaxed. I guess he wants to keep me motivated.

This post has been entirely too much whining, but it's my blog and it felt good to get it off my chest. So, there.

Autopilot

Last Thursday, Erica and I were grocery shopping at the Pig - just the two of us. She was 'driving' the truck cart. I did something that she didn't like, and she wanted to show me who was the boss. So, she crosses her arms and says, "Fine, I'm not going to drive anymore." Lucky for me, those carts are equipped with Autopilot.

On a related note, this girl of ours is such a mix of sugar and spice. Most of the time, she is sweet, affectionate and full of smiles. But, she also has a streak of moody teenager in her tiny two-year-old body. When she's upset, she goes to her room and closes the door. A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E.

Survivors

Sometimes mispronunciations can be a good thing. Lately, whenever I make something that the kids don't like to eat, Luke and Erica tell me that it tastes like "bark." I am pretty sure they mean barf, but I'm not going to clue them in. I would prefer to think that I have very nature-oriented kids who could survive in the wilderness by eating tree bark - but only if they had to. Because by their tone of voice, I can tell they sure don't like it.

Hatch Teeth or Pizza

Conversation from the van:

Alex: Luke, what do chicks use to get out of the egg? This is the joke one.
Luke: No answer (at least nothing that makes sense)
Alex: Hatch-ets...But, do you know what chicks really use? They use a hatch tooth.
Mom: Alex, how do you know that?
Alex: Well, I do actually pay attention in school. I'm not thinking about pizza like some people.

So, now I'm wondering - who are the kids who are thinking about pizza? And, exactly how much time does the typical third-grader spend daydreaming about pizza?

What's Wrong with 6:43am?

I have finally figured out why I am always running late in the morning. I have a strange compulsion to only get out of bed at an 'exact' time - 6:45 is okay, 6:43 and 6:46 are not. And, to further complicate things, I don't like to crawl out of bed in the middle of a song. So, the alarm goes off at 6:31 - already missed the 6:30 option. I usually doze until about 6:43, then I have to wait a couple of minutes because it's an 'odd' time. Then, it's 6:45, but it's the middle of a good song. Then, 6:48 - an 'odd' time. And, at 6:55, you might as well wait until straight up 7:00. And, then 7:00 rolls around, but it would be just plain wrong to pass up a morning snuggle from one of the kids.

So, how did it get to be 7:12? It's way too late to wait for 7:15 and the end of the song. So, I'm starting my morning late and all of kilter because I have to get up at an 'odd' time in the middle of a song.

Maybe I should set the alarm for 6:27.

They are not socks...

This morning Alex was getting ready for school and announced that he was putting on his 'sweat absorbers.' I cracked up and said, "Alex, you are so cute!" Um, not exactly the right thing to say to an almost-9-year-old. He quickly set me straight and informed me that he is not cute. I told him he was right - he is not cute, he is clever!

And, I wonder if his feet are really that sweaty. I've never really noticed them being smelly, and I was even on duty to trim his toenails just yesterday. Things that make you go "hmmmm."