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He (Unintentionally) Breakes My Heart, yet Fills it with Unspeakable Joy

Today I received some much needed training at the PTA convention. I got to spend  time with several of next year's board members and learn a little bit about what I didn't know I didn't know. I do know that I have a lot to learn the next year as PTA president-elect so that I don't completely flounder as the president the following year. I have some big shoes to fill so to speak, or another way of looking at it is I get to continue a legacy started three years ago by capable women. I look forward to the opportunity to learn and to serve and to make new friends while attempting to make a difference.

My kids are all getting older now and can be relatively self-sufficient for short periods of time. I left before they went to school, but they were close to being ready. Destry was prepared to do carpool. Each child had a responsibility to fulfill in addition to the usual homework and walking home from school today. Taylor was to clean up the kitchen and keep the laundry moving from the washer to the dryer to my bed. The girls were to fold the laundry and put it away when they got home from school and Spencer was to finish the dinner that I started in the Crockpot before I left.

Well, I walked in the door and was greeted with a welcoming hug from Sarah as well as a messy kitchen and Estelle attempting to put three loads of wet laundry into the dryer all at once. Spencer was at the computer; I can only assume he was doing homework. Taylor was nowhere to be found and Emma, I was told, was at her friend's house. It was 5:30ish. The usual time for everyone to convene for our "tidy-up time." A time when everyone takes a few minutes to clean up toys, shoes, backpacks, papers, etc. that accumulates in the short time everyone returns from school. Then we set the table and have dinner.

I took a deep breath and first attended to Estelle's dryer stuffing. She informed me that all of the laundry had been on my bed and that it was wet. (At least she knew not to fold wet laundry). "Are you kidding me, Taylor!!!" What on earth was he thinking??!! I unloaded the dryer until it appeared to contain approximately one load then I got the rest of the wet clothing off of my bed.

"Mom, can we go to Chick-fil-a? Our school gets money if we do?

"Mom, did I tell you that I'm actually failing my history class too. Apparently when I missed a week of school I missed two tests and a packet."

"Mom, I ate dinner at Taylor's house. Can I go back outside and play for a while?"

"Mom, can we go to Chic-fil-a, pleeeease?"

"Mom, only one friend noticed I got my hair cut."

"Mom, you just missed a call from grandma."

"Mom, the Prestwich's are going to Chick-fil-a."

Inhale. Again. "Estelle, please clean up the family room. Sarah, clean off the kitchen table and put the shoes in the mudroom away. Emma, please clean up the kitchen. It is time for friends to go home. I will let you know later if we are going to Chick-fil-a or not. Spencer, don't fail any of your classes! Oh, Taylor. Where is Taylor?"

Where is Taylor? I wanted to figure out what exactly was going on in his brain when he decided to put three loads of wet laundry on my bed. And when I say wet, I mean wet, not damp, not a wet item or two that got tangled up or buried in the dryer somehow, not dripping wet either, but completely wet. Also, I need to make sure he is alive and exactly how well he is. I received only one text from him when I had texted him first and that had been about five hours earlier.

I discovered that his blood glucose had been dangerously high all day, like so high his meter only registered the word "high," which means it was over 500. I wanted to say all kinds of things like, "Why didn't you call me? Did you change your pod? Did you correct then check your blood in an hour? Did you use a syringe to dose your insulin rather than relying on your pump?..." But I didn't; I could see the suffering in his eyes and I pulled him close to me and wept in my heart. I stroked his head and told him I loved him and that I was sorry he had felt so miserable all day. He was tired even though I have a hunch he had slept for much of the day, so we laid on his bed together and I held him and felt so much pain for the pain he has to endure nearly every day of his life.

I never knew that my heart could ache so much and yet be filled with love at the same time. His life is a gift. Every life is a gift, we say it and hear it so often, but it is true. I wouldn't trade him for anything. His fragile life makes me more grateful for all of life. I am grateful for the chaos I came home to today. I am grateful for the training and the bonding I received with my PTA mates today, but I'm grateful too for the reminder of why I want to do it and why I really don't do very much away from my family. I have other ambitions (not necessarily PTA related), but the circumstances in my home and the needs of my children keep me there. I know that is where I am needed most and I know that is where I truly want to be. It is where my joy is. It is where I have been loved and where I have learned to love. The sting of my children's pain is much sharper than any of my own and the joy of their success surpasses anything I have done or could ever do. I am grateful for the lessons of motherhood.

Taylor's blood sugar came down, too much in fact; but occasionally I'm even grateful for hypoglycemia. Spencer did more homework, including a test he was able to take online. Emma got to go back outside and play; Estelle, Sarah and I went to Chick-fil-a. We did, after all, need to do our part to support the PTA I am about to become entrenched in. The last of the wet clothes is in the dryer and with the exception of Spencer, who just came upstairs for a Benadryl, everyone is sleeping soundly. As for the question of why there were wet clothes on my bed in the first place, we can either blame it on too much sugar in Taylor's, brain or on my taking the dryer setting off of "sensor dry" to a 20 minute "time dry" yesterday when the sheets needed a few more minutes, you choose.


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