Second grade is turning into a real eye opener for Jackson, and for me.
He’s learned ALL ABOUT curse words. He lets me know who says what, when and if they got into trouble. I’ve heard him practicing a few in his room when he’s by himself. I know he doesn’t use them, because he doesn’t like to break the rules like that. I can only imagine him ever getting in trouble at school for something like that. I think he’d have a coronary.
He’s had a lot of tummy problems over the last year and he told me it JUST WASN’T FAIR. We found out through a series of allergy skin patch tests that he is allergic to the most random foods: turkey, carrots and pineapple. Since cutting out strawberries, and his favorite flavors of yogurt and breakfast bars that include strawberry, we’ve cut down on stomachaches. So add strawberry to that list too.
I get it dude, I know. It’s not fair.
I learned life wasn’t fair early like Jackson. But as an adult, I understand that fair or not, we get the cards we’re dealt.
My cards…fine. But it doesn’t make it any easier, though, when it comes to your kids’ cards.
Life hasn’t been fair to either Jackson or Abby. It really sets me afire sometimes thinking about it. Why would Jackson go through grueling cancer treatment as a toddler? Why would Abby have to suffer such a bad brain bleed when she already had prematurity to deal with?
Two weeks ago Abby had her second set of Botox injections. As part of treatment to increase functionality and gait with her left leg, she needs a combination of Botox, physical therapy and serial casting.
I don’t know what the heck is wrong with me, but I didn’t wrap my mind adequately around the casting portion. I was thinking she’d have a boot-type cast. So when I took her to her appointment yesterday and she got the BIGGEST, HARDEST, HEAVIEST cast ever known to little legs, I felt like someone had just asked me to carry an elephant.
Because she’s off balance enough. She falls enough. She struggles enough. She gives me a heart attack already when she goes up and down stairs, or from carpet to hardwood.
I’ve got a three-month old, a sassy second grader and a four-year-old in a cast. Work. A husband. Three dogs. A messy house. Prescriptions and doctor’s appointments. What about dance class? Baths? Playing in the sandbox at school? How is she going to walk at school? None of her clothes fit over that boot. And geez, she’s got a cold!
Life, yesterday, felt so unfair. I looked at Abby’s tired eyes and dried snot under her nose as she asked me if she could take her boot off when she got home. And I tried to stay upbeat about the great hot pink color and bow she chose for it; we showed it off to everyone that afternoon. But driving home in the dark after dinner out for my husband’s birthday, she was really quiet for awhile. In the backseat, after asking me AGAIN if she could take it off when she got home, her voice quivered when it said: “Mommy, I think I’m sad.”
God. Life’s NOT FAIR.
I don’t want any of this for her! I don’t want the struggles and the “extras” — I want a great, happy life full of pink tutus and giggles and sparkles and happiness for her.
After a dose of Motrin and a full night’s sleep, she was back up with her smiles. I don’t know how she does everything in her life with a such a genuine, loving smile on her face. It’s like she knows life’s not fair, but it’s okay with her. Because life threw her a curveball, but at least she got to pick the color of her ball.
And it’s a HOT PINK cast with a HOT PINK bow. Because of course it is.
I love these kids of mine so much. If you can’t learn perseverance from kids like mine, you can’t learn it anywhere. She’s got more guts in those teeny tiny toes under that mammoth cast than most people do in their whole body.
I hope the two of them rule the world one day. Or at least, pick a good nursing home for their mother.