During our recent vacation, Laura and I snatched 20 minutes to reflect on the past year.
My assessment of 2011?
It was...fine.
Not great, not particularly good, definitely not terrible.
Just fine.
And what a freaking miracle that is.
We, the Fitch-Jenett family, who in each of the prior three years had moments (however brief) of terror and horror and the most godawful gut-wrenching, bone-chilling fear, had a whole year that was just "fine". If I didn't feel so tired from the pace of our just "fine" life, I might jump up and shout "Hallellujah"!
In 2011, our little guy ended his early intervention program, started a special day class for severely handicapped kids, went to camp with typical kids, made it through a whole year without ONE SINGLE hospital visit or major illness, got his heart function into the normal range, dropped some meds and just moved up to a more challenging (non-severely handicapped) preschool class.
His year was waaayyyyy better than fine.
His year was waaayyyyy better than fine.
Mine though? Fine. Work was fine. Social time with friends was fine. Family time was fine. Grandfather passed away which was sad but...fine. Nothing spectacular, nothing devastating.
"Fine" feels kind of weird. Like coming back to earth after being on a space shuttle or something. Or maybe coming back from war. There are still tender spots but I'm too busy trying to keep up with the current that I can't quite stop and care for them in the way that I did when things felt broken open all the time. When things were godawful, I felt permission to stop and mind the fragile places without the pressure to "go, go go".
Now it just feels like there are too many things to do and not enough sleep and a child that is keeping us guessing and keeping us moving.
I guess it feels like the life of a typical Mom who works outside the home.
And really, what a fine life it is.
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Now for a moment of levity. Our child talked at this pace for approximately one solid hour in the car while we were driving home. It's a great example of what I call his "popcorn" speech. A bunch of random crap strung together. And dangit if it doesn't crack me up every time. Also, "Thomas the Tank Engine" fans, this one's for you.
Now for a moment of levity. Our child talked at this pace for approximately one solid hour in the car while we were driving home. It's a great example of what I call his "popcorn" speech. A bunch of random crap strung together. And dangit if it doesn't crack me up every time. Also, "Thomas the Tank Engine" fans, this one's for you.
