is drawing to a close and I’m up by myself tonight (a special shout out to our cat, Krabs, who is sitting next to me while I type). Christmas was good, we went to my Mom’s for Christmas eve and raced home to put out the reindeer dust, milk, cookies and carrots. Santa brought Rachel the “babydoll” stuff she asked for, PIXOS for Julie, an army tank for London and the Buzz Lightyear “yard” that Boston has been talking about non stop. It was a really nice day and the kids have finally calmed down from all of the excitement.
Today I brought up our Geotrax stuff that has been sitting in the basemenrt for at least a year and the kids played with it for HOURS. For whatever reason we don’t have a complete remote control train for the set (either the RC or the train but not a matched pair) and I looked everywhere. The kids manually pushed the trains for hours and had such a good time. I was going to play with the wii fit tonight but I didn’t have the heart to put away their train stuff. They are such good kids
I am absolutely broken over Rachel and what her disease will mean for her future. It is so unfair and I try not to think about it because I just cry hysterically and it doesn’t do me any good. I’m very good about keeping my emotion hidden, especially when I have to. She made me a box for Christmas at school with her paraprofessional with a little note that she had me read out loud. And here I am sobbing but doing everything I can to not let her hear my voice crack. Her hearing has become quite acute as her vision has been failing and she picks up on things she didn’t used to.
I hate this disease and how powerless she is. There is no fighting what is to come. No treatment. No hope. My child is slowly fading away and is generally unhappy, anxious, unsure and not living a life filled with quality and happiness.
And all I want to do is crawl under a rock and die for every moment that I fuss at her for things out of her control. The natural guilt of motherhood has always been difficult for me but it is borderline suffocating now. Balancing 3 presumably normal children who make a lot of noise and hopefully have very long lives ahead of them while taking good care of Rachel and making sure she has good moments and opportunities in her short life. That balance is absolutely impossible to strike and fills me with incredible guilt.
And while I have this inner symphony of juggling and guilt and batten disease and giving them good childhoods, I put a smile on my face and take them places and cook them dinner and show them how to “whack and unwrap” a chocolate orange and making sure they use the correct “Terry’s” terminology. How do you have a normal life in the face of the disease? I’m not sure of the answer but I do know that I am working my ass off to try and make things normal and wonderful and happy.
The kiddos and I already planning to make edible valentines for all of their classmates instead of the lame box o’ cards.
We’re also planning to learn how to make the PERFECT homemade Carrot cake to celebrate the birthdays of my mom, brother and his girlfriend (in March). Anyone have a good recipe?