Jeremy is leaving on an extended trip this week – two weekends. Everyone is stepping up to help me, thank you – my parents, Megan and Ginny. When Jeremy leaves, I also try to work abbreviated days so I can give myself some grace when it comes to taking over Jeremy’s portion of the household duties – mainly which center around the kitchen – cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping and meal prepping. I don’t often order groceries to be delivered, but I may do that. Elka, in the meantime, seems bereft with the anticipation of Jeremy’s departure. Jeremy spends a long time packing his bicycle for these trips, starting Monday evening for a Friday departure. Each night, Elka stands sentry by the bike area in the house looking at Jeremy packing with head tilted, sad eyes and asking him to please not leave her. Jeremy tries to talk to her and reassure her, but perhaps it makes her more unhappy. Every night, as the bike parts get carefully disassembled and packed, Elka stands as witness to this travesty. What is more clear than a dog’s love? Really nothing. I think, I’ve never done this display of neediness, nor have the children really. Of course, we feel bad for making Jeremy feel guilty, but Elka does not seem to have this check on her emotions.
I have started Edda on a mild stretching routine – at breakfast for a few moments while she is chewing her granola, blueberry and yogurt mix and at night when I tuck her into her bed. (Do I feel guilty everytime I buy blueberries in the winter? Why yes I do, those precious blue orbs that were flown in from some warm place not at all closeby and tenderly not squished. An environmental travesty, I’m sure.) She’s very tight, none of her large joints really have a full range of motion – so we do what we can. When she was two, whenever I did therapy on Edda, I was desperate to see improvement. It made me crazy with grief, the small things I was doing, could I see anything, was anything better? I think about five years after her diagnosis, I decided to stop doing any therapy at home because it was literally driving me crazy – that I was her mom and not her teacher, therapist, doctor, etc. And I let that carry me for a long time until I could find joy again. Because I wasn’t sure I could find it, but I did find it – it took a long time, but most days are joyful and Jeremy and I look at each other and marvel at our good fortune (knock on wood) and I’m generally grateful for everything. Now I stretch her joints, I do look for improvements, but I’m not so frantic about it. Will she lose her ability to walk. Maybe. Will she ever get her elbow flexed again? Maybe. I’m ok living in the sea of possibility. I’m ok with whatever happens. Mostly.
I had a large pile of mail that I hadn’t looked at in about 6 weeks. It was taunting me with its silent marching orders. The tax forms were in there, various bills were in there – unlocked at and unpaid. But yesterday, in a fit of productivity, I ripped them all opened and looked at them and now it is fine. Yes, I’m behind on some things, but it’s all OK.