There is a franticness about my life that is new. I have only just recently recognized it. It has crept up on me without me knowing it. Probably because our days generally start out calmly.
Every day, Lilla wakes me up. We get dressed and come downstairs. Lilla begins her math. I start the eggs and cut the fruit. I get Bette out of bed, who is smiling and happy when I walk in. And why shouldn’t she be? She sleeps until 9 or 10 am everyday.
The girls eat and play together until it is time for Lilla to get back to her math. As we inch closer to 11am, Lilla begins to meltdown because Sesame Street is about start and we always watch Sesame Street with Bette. I warn her several times about her whining. I have to send her to her room to finish her math alone. She cries all the way upstairs and for awhile once she is there.
I turn on Bette’s ears and Sesame Street. We cuddle and watch Elmo and Abby as she adjusts to the sound now going into her head. Lilla hears the TV and quickly finishes her math, minus the whining and fussing, so she can join us. The girls watch TV together while I get us ready to leave the house.
We take Bette to school. She snacks in the car on something I grabbed out of the pantry, but not very well, because she practically just had breakfast. She never wants lunch on school days, which I feel sort of bad about. But I am glad she is snacking because then she won’t be starving when I pick her up.
I drop her off at her room. Lilla and I hang around to use one of the observation rooms. I go in and watch Bette in her classroom. Lilla plays stack the states, but interrupts me constantly with questions about capitols and abbreviations. I finally have to tell her to sit still and stop bothering me.
Because Bette is not having a good day. Class has just begun, but she keeps laying her head on the table. She is ready for a nap. Each time she lays her head down, the assistant teacher rubs her back and she pops back up.
When I am done observing, Lilla and I go out into the hall. I am supposed to go to my weekly parent class with the other mothers from Bette’s class. We sit around and talk about hearing strategies at home. But one mother barely speaks English and another mother is deaf and I just don’t see the point. Every week I try to think up ways to get out of having to go.
Lilla and I scout things out to see who is around. We don’t see anyone we know. We blow off the class and go get our nails done. Lilla has her fingers painted pink and her toes painted purple. And she smiles the entire time.
Our nails take a little longer than they should and we race back to Bette’s school. While we drive, I tell Lilla she can’t show her nails off at Bette’s school. Why? Because we were supposed to go to that class, but we had our nails done instead.
Ohhhh, she says. I am not sure she gets it, but she promises not to tell everyone she sees when we walk in that she just had her nails painted like 5 minutes ago.
School is out when we arrive, carpool is in full swing, and cars are everywhere. I park illegally, sign in at the desk, grab my badge, and run upstairs to meet Bette.
The other mothers are already there. So is the program director who teaches the parenting class. She says hello to me, but nothing about my absence from class.
When they see us, our kids run down the hall. We all laugh at sight and sound of the gaggle of deaf children running toward us. Bette jumps into my arms. She is ready to go so we say goodbye and head home. On the way, she eats two chicken nuggets and three french fries that Lilla saved for her from lunch. I also give her a half eaten granola bar.
We attempt to quickly clean my car out when we arrive home. We remove the top layer of trash and food, then give up because the backseat floor is a disaster. Jay says it is starting to smell.
Bette has taken off and pulled apart her implants during the ride home. I dig through all the crap on the floor to find the various parts and pieces. I put them back together and stuff them into my pocket for safe keeping.
We go inside. I put Bette down for a nap. Lilla goes to her room for some quiet time. I consider working out since I have some free time, but quickly talk myself out of it.
Noise starts coming from Lilla’s room. I have given her my old pink ipod, circa 2005, and speakers so she can listen to music in her room. I hear Taylor Swift playing amidst all of the noise. But the ceiling isn’t shaking and she isn’t crying so I leave it alone.
After awhile, she asks me to come upstairs because she has a surprise. She has cleaned up her entire room, made her bed, and put away all her clothes. I look at her room and then at her and wonder what has come over her. She is beaming. I give her two sugar free popsicle and let her watch Martha Speaks as a treat.
I sit down and think about all the things I need to do, but decide to enjoy the silence for awhile. Because I am tired and worn out and need things to not be frantic for a few moments.
This franticness won’t last forever. It will come to an end., like all seasons of life. I am looking forward to when it will end. And in the meantime, I am praying for patience. And a kind tone of voice. And gentleness towards my family. And I am praying that God’s supernatural grace would to fill me and flow from me until this crazy season of life ends.