Yesterday a number of readers were very generous, kind, and encouraging in their comments regarding the circumstances my son and I are currently dealing with. I appreciate your prayers and support more than you can possibly know.
However, I am a tad bit concerned that K. (my paraplegic son) and I may be coming off a bit "too good" in all this, and if so, that is entirely my fault. So today's post is my attempt to keep it real, as there is no one living in this little domicile who is apt to win any Mother Teresa awards. Trust me on this, Mother Marsha can be quite a pain.
You know what they say, "If it isn't one thing, it's your mother."
Likewise K., while everything I have shared about his indomitable spirit is quite true, is no Saint. K., and can also be quite the challenge on a rough day. He does not suffer fools gladly, has a fierce intellect that can be sharply critical, and is a fairly picky housemate. I simply do not know where he gets these traits. :)
Here are a couple of examples- in the spirit of keeping it real:
When being transported to the wound clinic yesterday via gurney, he noticed as they loaded him in his driveway into the van that there were some brown spots in his lawn. He hires folks to keep his lawn meticulously trimmed and fertilized year 'round, so a brown spot is NOT what he wants to see.
"Mom, could you please put the sprinklers on those brown spots later today?", he says with just a hint of impatience because he has asked this previously. And I have done it any number of times over the past two months, but admittedly I missed a couple of times this past week - probably while I was doing fourteen loads of laundry. (She mutters to herself.) Just keeping it real here.
I make eggs and toast, but this is a balancing act worthy of a hire-wire trapeze performance. The eggs should be over-easy, with just a hint of liquidity on the yolks, but without any hint of crispy edges on the white part. He never complains if they are not to his liking, he simply eats around the offending portions and leaves it on the plate. Message received - and I redouble my efforts both to get the eggs just right, and to not strangle him while I serve them to him. I'm just saying.
And THEN there is the whole toast saga. Could grief, could he have picked a more obstreperous appliance? He likes his toast light, but not too light. In his toaster oven, if one does not place the bread slices in exactly the correct spot, it makes these darker stripes on the toast, even if the rest is just the way he prefers it. I staunchly resist the temptation to pitch the darned thing into the farthest corner of the backyard.
How I long for my Cuisinart sitting on my forlorn little kitchen counter at home, where both my husband and my little dog currently reside without me. (Sniff, sniff. Boo hoo.)
So, while we are indeed, moving right long as best we can, there are no heroics going on around here, except perhaps in heart and in good intentions.
As the Mother Teresa reportedly said once, "We can not all do great things, but we can all do small things with great love."
And that is where we are today. Just keeping it real. Hope your day is filled with good things and love. Until next time ...Marsha