Talk about a Hurricane.
I mean, I knew the schedule here on Mondays was crazy. I sat with Trista while she laid out 5 different calendars and worked magic to make it all work for all of us.
But I started working remote today, and I’m here to see the “Manic Monday” regimen take place.
We’re grateful for positions that allow us to be flexible.
We’re grateful for David’s teams of therapists, speech pathologists, and occupational therapists that work together to put out a schedule and workload that plays to David’s strengths while also nudging him out of his comfort zone. We couldn’t do this without them, and without them David would be lost in the shuffle.
But this woman.
I’m watching this woman while I sit beside her in our “office area” – and I’m observing her and David’s day as I sit at my desk, clicking through assemblies and running geometry edits.
I cannot fathom how she does this; but man am I grateful that I have her on my side.
Up’n at’em, work, David’s breakfast, David’s first therapy, work, morning meeting for school, David’s snack, David’s second therapy, snack, work, run to David’s school for materials, David’s third therapy, lunch, David’s 4th therapy, work, last therapy, snack…
and then back to work to finish up her full-time job for the day.
All the while coaxing David through transition anxiety and full on meltdowns.
On roughly 4 hours of sleep.
And never once does she lose her patience with him.
I keep texting her, “how can I help?”
Feeling like a royal horse’s hind end for complaining about feeling helpless – because it just turns me into another hand out, needing her to fill it.
It’s like watching her in double-time double dutch. Standing there with my hands up in front of me, rocking back and forth – trying to time my moment for jumping in to try step-jumping along with her…
Hoping like hell I don’t just bumble into the process and make everything come to a screeching halt.
All of this.. I watch her bounce and run and jump and console and coax and guide and love, running through a gauntlet of both physical and emotional booby traps… and I’m absolutely amazed that when the work of the day is over, she still makes time to love me.
I can’t believe she still has love left in her, honestly.
But she does.
It’s almost time for me to be done for the day, where I get to jump in and give her reprieve – and I’m having a difficult time figuring out how I’m ever going to match her effort. How I’m ever going to make her feel like we’re equally yoked.
I feel like a blister; like I don’t show up until the work is done.
Please understand, I’m not asking for anyone to pity me for how much she does.
I’m asking everyone to recognize my wife and all the others like her, trying to navigate and maneuver this new world we live in.
The ones running like mothers.
Y’all are killin’ it, regardless of how much you feel you don’t add up.
And to you, Love….
Our family thanks you. You’re the absolute best, Mama.
Love you like crazy.
Hurricane Heffners 