Q news

'Twould seem that I'm writing a whole bunch today. This probably means that I'll just be invisible here for the rest of the month, since that's how it seems to work. It's nice to have a whole day at home, with no appointments. SpEd is off until the beginning of September, so our Thursdays are free. Whee.

Q will have his feet cast for boots tomorrow during his regular PT appointment. I missed the appointment I had scheduled for him on Tuesday. After piano lessons, I was feeding him some Gerber concoction when my cell phone rang. It was his PT, wondering if we were on our way to the casting appointment. I just sat there. It took a few seconds for the circumstances to register. We'd waited nearly three months for this appointment and I'd blown it. His PT was shocked and dismayed, I just sat and bawled after I hung up. One of those "bad mommy" moments.


I have nightmares about driving a semi full of the kids and their stuff pell-mell to wherever we're supposed to be and not quite making the corner, or ending up on a bridge which I suddenly realize has no middle. Most of the time I manage to hit the brakes and handle the steering just fine, even drive through grass and get back on my dreamtime freeway, but I guess it's instructive, in a Freudian way: dropping the ball, or the basket, or the big red bag full of Q's supplies--missing a detail and therefore an opportunity, these are the things that make me craziest. So it rarely, very rarely, happens.


I finally feel like I've almost found my feet. Every new baby has an introductory period in which everything "normal" goes on it's head and shaves years off a parent's life. Q's has been longer than most babies would have been, and flying solo has made the learning curve steeper (like it needed help). Now, packing up Q and his accessories is becoming less daunting, the big kids are more help all the time and more and more intrinsically motivated. I've got schedules galore, making sure that I remind myself about everything in at least duplicate. That's why it was so odd that I'd missed the appointment--I'd looked at the calendar just that morning and seen it there. Brain fade, I guess. Thankfully, the casting folks are very kind and probably won't hold a grudge.


Last week, Q was measured for his new chair. His will be the size 1, with a silver frame, with black and green in the seat. The cargo basket will probably be approved as a medical necessity, as will the tray, but the rain guard and hood aren't likely to be. There's no question that he needs it, though, so I've got a couple of months for a miracle to work itself out: the new system was ordered and will be here in about eight weeks.


I'm excited, as it's sure to be more user friendly than the loaner we've had. Hopefully, it won't be as heavy. The kids and I do well with "team lifts" in and out of the back of the van, but it's awkward to wrangle the frame and wheels by oneself. And I'm a little sad, I guess. It's hard for me to think about Q maybe not walking ever without tearing up... Yeah.


So it's been a lovely day. We've just sort of lolled about. I did some laundry, some watering, some dishes and picking up. We filled the little pool, the kids "washed" the van. K and S made mud pies, G and E decided eggs in browned butter were in order for lunch so they took that on. (I know. They're weird like that. I like 'em. The kids, not the eggs. The kids need more practice in that department.) They're all sprawled on the living room floor, wrapped in towels and blankets, listening to The Sending of Dana-da. Q is asleep, hopefully for about another hour so I can get dinner started, move some laundry, help the kids remember to clean up the kitchen from their fun with eggs and butter (and tofu and spices and my oh my, aren't they adventurous).

I keep thinking there's something else I should be saying, but I can't think what. That's not a good feeling.

Oh well.

Here's hoping you have a restful or exciting, peaceful or thrilling first weekend of August. May you enjoy the company of your beloved, delight in the smiles of your punkins, and learn a little something about grace--even if it's just found in the welcome of smooth, clean sheets at the end of a day of striving.

Peace.