I was driving down the highway to take Wade to a makeup speech therapy session, and the accessible parking tag hanging from the rear view mirror caught my attention. I looked down at my lowered--and very messy and cluttered--floor boards in our wheelchair accessible van. How did this happen? My dream car--a lovely, roomy minivan with more cupholders than necessary--had to be sold for this. (I know you're probably still stuck on the part that a minivan was my dream car, but it was!)
I remember the nights when staying up past midnight meant that I could be lazy the next day. Or if I did have to go to work, I could suffer through the day knowing that the couch would be waiting for me as soon as I made it home. Instead, last night I was up past midnight sitting with two dear friends at my kitchen table as we deliriously hammered out goals and objectives for an upcoming ARD meeting...and it wasn't for Wade. And when my head finally hit the pillow, I knew that today would not welcome laziness, but just more work for everything that lies ahead.
When did I become the stay at home mom that doesn't have time for anything? I don't even have time to clean my house and do laundry on a regular basis. I can never seem to figure out how to land and just be. There's always something to do. I haven't updated this blog in over a month, even though I have so much I want to say and keep record of. Who said that stay at home moms don't really work???
I shouldn't be surprised, really. Growing up, I just knew I'd be married by the magical age of 23. I'd have 2.5 kids, a dog, and the white picket fence. I'd be a teacher forever. However, I didn't get married until I was 31. I owned a house with a friend when I was single. I moved to Florida. I moved again to Texas. I never thought I'd live away from my family. I was 30 before I finally became a teacher, and now I am blessed to be able to stay at home with Wade. As I've figured out, things rarely go as planned, or as I envision them anyway. So, to have a perfect pregnancy at the age of 32/33, with a most traumatic delivery, which resulted in my first child having a disability, shouldn't really shock me. Most of the time it doesn't. Sometimes though, the simple things like an accessible parking tag and wheelchair accessible entrances are glaring signs that my life is so much different than I ever, ever imagined it would be.
Then, I see this sweet face looking back at me, and I realize things are exactly as they should be!
|Wade in his turkey hat he made in school.|