The past week has been hectic and overwhelming like many of us experience this time of the year. When you’re Jewish, your holidays come at times of the year when life still goes on all around you: school is in session and there’s homework to finish each night; activities are in full swing each afternoon; and there’s a mad rush to get to everything and put a proper dinner on the table before lighting the Hanukkah candles and spending time together as a family. It’s frenetic at best.
Lately, I’ve felt especially rushed and agitated. On top of the holidays it seems like there’s too much to get done and not enough time to do it all. The puppy is pooping in places where she shouldn’t. The kids are whinier than usual. I’ve had a cold that just won’t quite go away. I went to bed last night just plain feeling out of sorts and grumpy.
And today started off as yet another one of those days; so busy Cute Husband had to come home early so we could divide and conquer ~ him to the school Math Festival with Little Cutie and me to the Cotillion Holiday Party with Big Cutie. Another rushed afternoon where I would race home to drop off the children with Cute Husband and then run back out because there was a PTO meeting up at school.
But now I’m home and the children are snuggled up in flannel jammies sound asleep in their beds. And my sweet Cute Husband is cooking me lamb chops and mint jelly, one of my very favorite meals ever. And I’m going through the photos from the Cotillion party and my heart has just skipped a beat.
Because here is my beautiful Big Cutie….
And boy can she dance a sweet little waltz
and then I found this picture of her and her two besties showing off how they nicely fold their hands in their laps and cross their legs at their ankles like proper ladies and I lost my breath looking at her leg brace in the mix.
Because eight years ago when I first heard the words Cerebral Palsy I didn’t ever imagine a life that included things like white gloves, Cotillions and cha cha chas. In fact, I imagined some very sad and dark days. I remember crying and praying and wishing that all I wanted for my child was her to have a normal life and do the things that little girls grow up to do. And tonight I realized that while there is joy in watching her dance and twirl, there is also joy to be found in the chaos of the past few days. Of arguments and sisterly fights; of complaining about too much homework; of hopping in and out of the car back and forth from home to school to art and back again. Because it’s all normal, too.
Actually it’s better than normal. It’s precious. A precious gift. One of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given.