Sometimes I like to put myself down as I discuss my "white people problems". I feel so fortunate to have a home, healthy children and more than enough food on the table, what do I have to bitch about? But people problems, are people problems, and the fragility of life is a
everywakingmomentofeveryday reality, and sometimes that's hard to forget.
Every night when I put my son to bed, I have to wait a while to know that he won't have a seizure as he travels through stage 1 and stage 2 sleep. I feel so lucky that his epilepsy is Benign Rolandic and that I don't have to follow him around the schoolyard all day. I think he would definitely start to resent me if I tried. When we didn't know when the seizures would occur, I asked the head of the soccer organization if he would give my son his medication if he had a seizure. His response was that he could not be responsible for that. So I sat at every practice. Waiting.
I think waiting effectively sums up how I feel every day. Waiting for the school to call and say he's had a seizure, waiting for the school day to end so I can start my livery service, waiting for my husband to come home so I can share the day's news, waiting for homework, teethbrushed so we can have a family story before we snuggle in bed. What am I waiting for?
When I had a job other than managing my family and volunteering at their school, I lived with such moment to moment panic of managing curriculum and nonprofit connections for over 400 persons, that every moment arrived before I felt fully prepared to deal with it. Now I feel I am preparing for every moment to arrive...and I'm still unprepared.
