Epiphany

This past weekend my children spent their first nights away from home without us. They were welcomed into the arms of their grandparents and had a wonderful time. I was worried they would get homesick and I would be driving 200 miles in the middle of the night to be with them. That did not happen.

Steve and I did things we cannot do with the kids. We went shopping for several hours and looked at appliances. Now that's a hot date! [read with sarcastic tone] Afterward, we took a nap. Steve was on the love seat, Sugar and I were on the couch, and Soundscapes music was playing on the stereo (if you are unfamiliar, that is what I refer to as "spa music"). That really was fabulous. After about an hour of having the dog sleep on my arm, we were recharged and headed back out to enjoy dinner at a Thai restaurant and a movie - The Bourne Ultimatum. I highly recommend both (the dinner and movie, not the numb arm part).

Even though I missed the kids, the break gave me time to regroup. After having the house torn apart for a week of painting, the silence allowed me the chance to approach Ainsley's upcoming appointment with a pediatric neurologist as an opportunity to learn how to help her. Long, calm, deep breaths cleared my mind, allowing me to realize it's not a death sentence, it's a diagnosis. It doesn't define her, it merely describes a part of her. We can handle this, no matter what the label says.

It's funny how it only took being apart for 48 hours for me to be able to look at Ian and Ainsley as if I were on the outside looking in. Yesterday, when Steve and I picked them up, I observed the same behavior I see at home, but this time it was so much clearer to me how much alike they are and how out of sync their bodies and minds seem to be at times. I have felt that way before - heard my mouth saying something, while my brain thought something else and my body was doing something completely unrelated to the other two. It is difficult to put it all together later because there is no connection. It is three distinct events all happening simultaneously in the same body. No wonder Ian can't remember what happens at school or what he did thirty seconds ago. There is just too much going on for it all to register.

In a way, one could say Ainsley is fortunate. We have learned so much with/thanks to Ian. She will benefit greatly from those lessons. Hopefully, this will go easier for her, if as we suspect, she has more than just ADHD. We will know soon enough.