Lots of people have hectic lives. Apparently, it's the new norm. We barely have time to sync our tech devices designed to simplify our hectic lives.
These days we're all running ourselves into the ground trying to keep up with the necessities of life, let alone the rest of our "To Do" lists. Anyone with a job or children is swimming in a bubbling cesspool of stress and chaos; those with jobs and children are just trying our best to stay out of the psych ward... and for those of us who work and have children with special needs, God help us, because a mental health breakdown emergency just isn't an option - especially if you live in North Carolina!
A couple of months back, I was filling up at a local gas station and chatting with the kindly manager about the damaged fuel pump which had been knocked ajar from its island perch. He tells me that people are so busy, distracted and hurried that they don't pay attention to what they're doing... "I can believe it," I tell him, "I've seen people drive off with the pump nossel still inserted in their gas tanks." He shook his head and tells me that that happens at his store at least 4 or 5 times a month.
Why do I bring this up? Because we, as a society, all need to slow down and pause!
We need to take a step back, take inventory of our lives, our purpose, our priorities and our conscience... To take a look at what's really important to us right now in this moment. Are we where we need to be? And even more importantly, are we being the best of who we are in every decision we make? Especially those in positions of authority...
Like those whose names you'll see on the ballots this fall.
Whether you're "just a parent," a laborer, professional, CEO, a politician, or an ordinary Joe - consider: what will be your legacy? Will you be remembered for your uncompromising compassion and honor for humanity or will your eulogy read like a padded resume?
Every decision creates action and every action has an impact -- upon us individually and upon the world around us. Sometimes we don't always get to see it and most often, we don't go looking. Ignorance is bliss as they say.
Sometimes I wish I could be blissfully ignorant. But I digress...
So lemme share with you the catalyst for this post; a recent adventure in my special mommie life as can only be imagined by other special parents - a typical, atypical day if you will:
This past Thursday, I finally got around to taking my 6-year-old son to the pediatrician for his Kindergarden Heath Assessment and shots as it was the very last day before the school would have to kick him out (frankly, considering I've had
over 20 doctor's appointment this year for my daughter, I naturally forgot the "typical" child).
When I was Liam's age, I was deathly afraid of needles. (Of course, I happened to have the nurse from hell back then who loved nothing more than a tender young caboose for target practice...) I spent quite a bit of time talking to my little guy about the reason we must have certain vaccinations, breathing techniques, how he had to be very brave, and it would only hurt for a moment.
When the time came for his two shots, my little man was so very brave he barely flinched and shed nary a tear! I was over-the-moon proud and tried my utmost to make the rest of the day be a celebration of his triumphant big-boy milestone... though it was short lived.
Not two hours later as we played in the back yard waiting for Daddy to come home so we could have a special dinner and tell him how awesome and brave our big boy had been, Miss Kim, Isabel's wonderful Habilitative Tech (direct care worker), came running through the door in a worried fit of panic and announced that Bell had just eaten a wild mushroom at a nearby park. Oye.
Yes, it seems that our daughter, who has never been in the habit of eating random stuff off of the ground (though an unattended picnic is another matter), decided to help herself to a little snack... I certainly don't fault Miss Kim in the least; Isabel is quick like that, especially after she's heard her name combined with the word "No!" But now the party was over and Liam was left to entertain himself as we sat about trying to figure out what to do.
According to
Dr. Larry Grand, mycology expert and Professor at the
NCSU Department of Plant Pathology, 98% of all mushrooms are not poisonous; however digestion of the other 2% can produce results ranging from "a minor upset stomach to a rather painful protracted death, depending upon the species of mushroom eaten, the amount eaten, and the person who has eaten it."
After spending some time perusing internet photos of mushrooms in an effort to try to identify what percentile Bella's snack fell into, we narrowed it down to the Bolete species (as evidenced by the presence of pores rather than gills on the underside of the mushroom cap) - of which there are many, many varieties, most of which being edible varieties, though, a few being deadly 'evil twins.'
I attempted to reach Dr. Larry Grand by phone as well as emailed to him photos of the remainder of Bell's snack, then heeding Dr. Grand's "Steps to follow if it is suspected a person has eaten an unidentified mushroom," I packed an overnight hospital bag for me and Isabel in anticipation of a long night ahead involving Ipecac cocktails.
Poor Liam. Once again, it was no longer about my "typical" child, rather his proud and special day was overshadowed, no - pushed to the back and buried, by yet another freak emergency resulting from his sister's unintentional antics. --That is not to say that I wasn't worried and frightened for my daughter as any parent would be in such a situation. Though when you have a child with the cognitive understanding of a perpetual toddler, emergencies, accidents, incidents, outbursts, etc. are an all too common occurrence - and yes, the whole family's life, schedule, and system of being, more often than not, revolves around the child whose excessive needs demand your constant attention and care. Everyone else sucks it up and moves to the back of the bus. (Heck, truth be told, parents aren't even on the damn bus. We're kinda running along behind it trying to keep up.)
My proud big brave boy, who had not shed a single tear during his shots earlier that day, was still crying when I left with his sissy for the hospital.
We arrive at the children's ER, I give Bell's name to the lady behind the desk and begin explaining why we're there while Isabel grabs everything on her desk, starts signing "potty" emphatically (not because she actually has to go, but rather to steer my attention back to her), before she spies the hand sanitizer and sprints off across the lobby to douse her hands. We're told to have a seat and someone will call our name.
While simultaneously praying that my child had not poisoned herself, I was filling with dread (and guilt and heartache) imagining a sleepless night of shrieks, being hit and slapped by an angry sick child, and fun with vomit. --A half hour or so had passed when my husband called to say he had just spoken to Dr. Grand (God bless him!) who, thankfully, was able to positively identify the mushroom remains from the photos as a non-poisonous variety. Isabel would be fine.
Thank you, thank you Dr. Grand!
As I said, a typical, atypical day in our life, the life of a family caring for and loving a child with profound developmental disabilities... There is no pause for us, no down time, we never get to clock out or recharge, plans are subject to change constantly and there is never a dull moment - and we just roll with it because it's what we do. Because we love our children unconditionally.
We've all heard the proverb, "It takes a village to raise a child." Well, it takes a society to care for special populations - our most vulnerable and pure of heart. We cannot do it alone and we cannot make do with less - we already are.
Now, back to legacies: I can only guess what colorful descriptors might comprise my eulogy one day... stubborn and strong-spirited, honest to a fault, opinionated, moody, mouthy, fearless and strong, aggressive and somewhat intimidating... while I've heard it all and then some at one point or another and perhaps there's some truth there; I take no issue either way.
Though I hope somewhere in there someone will be able to say: She was loyal and genuine and compassionate; she always spoke her truth and always fought for what she knew to be right and just with a clear conscience... I hope they can say: She was a great mother and loved her two beautiful, amazing children; there was nothing more important to her than nurturing their little souls... and she never, ever gave up.
