Waiting for the shoe to drop

   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.