"It was the best of times. It was the worst of times." The almost cliche quote still fits my mood.
MaryJane is walking. Here is an actual picture of the first four steps in a row! (As opposed to the first picture of Nolan walking which the scrapbook says is his first steps, but really a few staged, prodded steps the next day...) Amazing. I know, every kid does it, but it still takes my breath away. And she did it at party where everyone saw and gasped and shared in my awe. Except my husband who couldn't be there. But I'm trying to let this go.
My parents have been visiting at my house for six days. I was confronted with a bracing realization that I have refused to face before: My mother with MS will never admit/realize she can't do most things. Case in point: she tried to do a load a laundry and upon hearing this I darted to the washing machine, only to find she had put an entire cup of detergent in the dryer. I was so angry. Why can't she just ask me to help her? Then I saw her face: she was humiliated. She failed at something so simple, so core to her life as PTA room mother turned travel agent, that it represented to her an entire end to all she is, ever was, and never will be. The next day, the previous night's horrors completely forgotten, she attempted to hem her new pants. I found the needle on the floor of the hall, now roamed by an 11 month old who puts everything in her mouth. "Mom, I found this needle on the floor. I said I would hem your pants," I told her. My mom's response? "I didn't need you to hem the pants. I did it." She didn't grasp the gravity of the situation. My mom will not/cannot change. I will not/cannot change this.
Last thought today - hey- isn't Pink Eye fun? How come I never got this as a child? I think it's because my mom was so much better of a mom than me. Karma can suck.
