It has been a hectic week. Four of the five suitcases from our trip are still sitting, unpacked, on the basement floor. I’ve spent a total of about 16 hours in the recording studio, which has been thrilling and exhausting at the same time. Jade has been attending music camp for three quarters of an hour every morning, the sessions being just short enough that it doesn’t make sense to try to run errands as they unfold.
A few days after we got back, Halia came down with a fever and some kind of stomach bug and I got to reacquaint myself with the art of catching vomit with whatever happens to be available. On top of that, she is in the throes of exploring preschooler independence, which manifests itself in saying mean things to Jade (which makes Jade cry), selective listening, tantrums, and teenageresque expressiveness.
“Halia, get off my chair,” I might say.
“Okaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy,” she’ll drawl back, her voice implying the rolling eyes she has not yet learned to do.
She’s a challenge for sure, and she tests my patience daily. Hourly.
This morning I was thinking back to what Jade was like at this same age. That puts us back in September of 2008, a time I try not to think too much about. That was a month before Jade started on the ketogenic diet, a time where her seizures were getting progressively worse, the last month we had her in daycare before her seizures became so severe it was no longer safe to send her there.
I remember hearing friends bemoaning their children’s behaviour, who were doing exactly the same kinds of things Halia is doing now. I remember thinking, “I would take those challenges over what Jade is going through. Any day.” I remember wishing I could complain about the same mundane things.
And here I am. It’s exhausting, yes, but oh my… Right at this moment, I feel so damn lucky.