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...

It all started...

It all started when we were driving home one day in our smaller car because the big red van was in the shop. We had bought a conversion van to have extra space in a vehicle, a needed "luxury" for our middle daughter, but today the van wasn't available. We had come from our son's soccer game about twenty five minutes away and we were almost home. Beau, Gwenn and I were in the back seat, Mark was driving. Teale, who is diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder among many other issues, was in the front seat to protect our other two kids from her sudden rages.
Teale was happily drawing on a small white board and we were just minutes from home, when it happened. She dropped the top to her marker and our whole world suddenly changed. Going from happy, even estatic to an angry and violent kid with practically no warning was common for Teale, but in the small car, it was especially alarming. She would go for what she could get, her anger has no filter and we were all in danger. We stopped the car to look for the marker top and evaluate our next move. The marker top was hidden somewhere in the crevices of the car and Teale's anger was in full rage now. We then decided to just get home, it was only six or so minutes, there we could help Teale to calm in a safe environment.
This was in the beginning of our understanding our daughter's violent outbursts. We were still in the trying to reason stage and we greatly underestimated her perseverance. She attacked us, she went after the car controls and threw anything and everything she could. I then held her as best I was able while she tried to bite, hit, scratch and kick her way out of my grasp. Mark continued driving, hoping to just get us home quickly and safely.
When we finally pulled in the driveway, Mark jumped out to get Teale out from my grasp and out of the car. He took our screaming, out of control child and put her on the driveway. At this point our only goal was to wait it out, hoping she calms quickly, while keeping her and everyone else safe. We were unaware of anything around us, the stares of neighbors, or of cars passing by. We just had one goal in mind, to survive this.
Mark and I were deflated. Worst than how we felt, there was how our daughter felt. What pain she must have in her to react so violently to such a simple problem.
It was a low not many can understand, the feelings of guilt, of loss and complete heartache filled me. The uncertainty of the future went through my head. I especially worried about her strength increasing and how I would ever drive with her alone?
It was a defining moment in our family, watching this screaming child on the driveway & then I heard it, "We are God's entertainment." Beau said loudly. His statement changed everything. We were able to laugh and with that laughter we were also able see the gifts Teale gives us all. She gives us strength and humor and understanding. She gives us compassion and caring and a deep love. The five of us are bonded in a way that would be tough to understand by others. At that moment we realized no matter how bad it is or how bad it gets, we have each other and as Beau so eloquently pointed out, we have God.