Some days you just want to curl up in a corner and give up on everything. It’s not just me, right?
When I dragged myself up the stairs this morning, Michael, who was just as sleepy as me, asked me if he’d put Jade to bed last night. I thought back. Michael had had to work out of the house all day yesterday and then went to band practice in the evening, so suppertime and bedtime were particularly rushed and chaotic. Nope, I was the one who put Jade to bed. Turns out I forgot to give Jade her medication last night.
Jade is often zombie-like in the mornings. She seems to feel the same way we do about being dragged out of bed at 7 a.m. (I know, I know many of you get up much earlier) but this routine of making her get up for breakfast seems to be the main thing that has helped with getting her to sleep at night. It’s not fun watching her staring — and often drooling — during breakfast. Jade was particularly unresponsive this morning, especially after a drop seizure slammed her into the spout of her sippy cup, giving her a huge bump just below her right eye. I was so upset and angry I wanted to slap her and shake her just to MAKE HER WAKE UP. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that angry. But I realized that I was angry with myself; if I could have shaken and slapped myself, I would have. I was angry about the sheer negligence of missing her medications and I was angry that there’s nothing I can do to just maker her normal again. This morning I just wanted to cry about how unfair it all is.
Jade’s favourite part of breakfast is generally the fruit. I often save the fruit for last in order to make sure she gets all her fat into her. We’re low on fruit at the moment, but I found one pear left at the bottom of the fruit drawer. I’ve never tried giving her pears since starting the diet because it’s one of the more sugary ones, which means she gets less of it by weight. I was pleasantly surprised when I weighed it out that it didn’t look like such a small amount, after all (although you would think so, if you saw it). However, I guess the sandy texture of the Bosc didn’t appeal to her. She ate one piece and then chewed a second but kept it in her mouth. Nothing I could do could induce her to swallow it and she was more zombie-like than ever. I was afraid that if she didn’t swallow it until later she’d get a sugar spike in her system. So finally I gave up and told her to spit it out. Funny enough, she complied right away.
And, wouldn’t you know it, she perked right up. She usually does pick up energy once her breakfast kicks in, but I was so scared about her missed medication that I thought she might spend the whole day in a dazed stupor. Instead, she’s playing in her toy kitchen, happy as a clam.
Maybe I can carry on, after all.