Type A people living a Type B life

Mark & I were trying desperately to get a few things done today. We were both wandering around looking for tools or parts of what we needed to fix what we wanted. As we both ended up in the laundry room, scavenging through unorganized drawers of miscellaneous stuff, Mark says "this is like another episode of we are Gods entertainment." I say "what?" caught up in the crap we have accumulated and having no clue what half of it is or why we kept it I was barely hearing him. He explains "Us, this, we can't find anything we are looking for, can you imagine God right now, he is probably up there laughing at us, isn't this a good one, look at them wandering around, funny." I thought about what he said and laughed with him but quickly realized we were looking at the day totally differently. I was thrilled to be with him & to not have any crisis hanging over my head. We are so often in crisis, a peaceful day of trying to accomplish a few things seemed pretty nice to me. I wasn't mad or even all that frustrated by the disorganization of our stuff. It's not always like that though, sometimes I just want to scream it frustrates me so. We used to be Type A people, fairly organized, the house was generally always tidy & clean. I used to like to decorate for different seasons and holidays, even the little ones like St. Valentines Day. We both appreciate being on top of stuff, having paperwork done and laundry put away. When I start a project, I like to finish it, completely. Having Teale changed all that, she is completely unpredictable & we need to be flexible to get through life. Teale can suddenly be in crisis, not sleeping or having some sort of mental or physical issue that takes all our energy. I believe Mark & I have adjusted well to this. I believe we both struggle with it and sometimes wish for the calmness of a life we once had. But today, as I analyzed Mark's frustration, I realized how far I've come. I appreciate the little things more, like a day with my husband and children home and the peace in the house. Someday I know I will "catch up" and it will feel good to be living my Type A personality life again, but for today, I'll just be happy with what I do have, moments of peace, incredible patience and much love.

Father Daughter Valentines Dance

"I dance with you?" It was a constant memory, passing by the high school where the dances had been held, suddenly she would remember. Looking at a picture with her handsome father all decked out in his tux, just for her, she would get giddy. All year it would creep into conversations. The last year she was young enough to go to it was upon us. It held a lot sadness, a typical thing to do with her Dad, but all her "friends" had outgrown it many years earlier. She would want a pretty dress and grown up shoes, but the shoes, ugh, the shoes were such a problem. Her cerebral palsy caused her right leg to be weak and her ankle would turn in unstable shoes. There was no way she could wear even a small heel like typical preteens. Pumps or even low ballet shoes, would be an issue. Her smaller right foot could slip out of a shoe that fit her left foot and she could possibly fall. I had kept my eyes open for shoes that would make her feel grown up but that she would not kill herself in while walking or dancing. I had lived through leg surgery with her and there was the time she slipped dancing The Electric Slide in our house and had broken her leg. That story will have to wait but living through those two times with her in a cast, I knew I didn't want to take a chance. In past years I had satisfied her want for fancy shoes with glittery sneakers or little girl patten leathers with a strap to keep them on. Thinking it all out, I wondered if anyone had any idea how much thought I put into such simple things? I wondered if she even got how much my mind churns trying to help her feel just a little bit "normal." Maybe my husband, Mark gets it, but he is probably the only one. I wanted this year to be special, she had loved the dance previous years and I knew we were making memories for her. I knew the rec. would probably make an exception and let her come next year, but technically, this was it and maybe it should be? Maybe exceptions should not be made, after all it is part of growing up also, excepting that you have outgrown something. Standing at the store I analyze shoes, my friends keep an eye out for some too, calling my cell if they have a find. Finally, I just buy three pairs, hoping with all my heart one of them fits her. She could have her whole day ruined by such a mistake on my part. She could rage and the dance would be a failure if I bring home shoes she likes but can't fit into or walk in. I hold my breath as I try them on her feet, her excitement grows, but I've blown it, none of them work. I backtrack, figuring I can get the bigger size and one of them will be ok. She is forgiving and understanding and I'm grateful as I run back to the store one more time. The shoes look good and she likes them. They are off to the dance, but soon into it a text from my husband says he is in trouble. He gets more desperate and calls me, she is raging at the dance because she is sure "someone was looking at her." She is sure other kids see her as different and are staring at her, it makes her angry and no reasoning with her can occur. I pick her up so Mark can stay with our younger daughter who is having a good time with the many friends she has. Heartbroken, I want to cry, her last chance at this memory, her little sister with friends and her with not a one. Sometimes I can't think too much about it or I'm afraid my heart will just break into a million pieces. Sometimes the shoes are all I can give her...