A couple short hours ago, I wanted to hide in a closet equipped with ice cream and wine.

I had neither ice cream nor wine, nor the time or freedom, so I kept on with my Monday.

Let me tell you about it.

Remember Sunday night anxiety?  Ever-present these days, and, come to find out, far worse when you’ve come off a week of Kiran illness and haven’t left the house much.  Life is always hard, but when you get to kinda hunker down at home and ignore some of the hard parts for a week….it becomes even more daunting to have to face it.

Still, the morning started off well.  I forced myself out of bed with my 6:30 alarm – Dad’s weekend with Kiran, so I dug right into schoolwork.  I was getting things done this morning…and then I looked at my phone at about 10:00 and realized I missed an appointment (for myself) at 9:30.

This never happens.  I mean never.  I am the calendar queen, and I pride myself on that.  I live and die by my calendar.  If it’s anything, it’s there.  I usually look at it every night and first thing every morning, so I don’t forget anything.

I’m off my game.  It’s gonna cost me more in cancellation fee (no-show fee) than the appt would have cost had I gone and actually received the beauty service.  Great.

As I’m going to pick Kiran up, I realize – again, now that I am scouring my calendar for anything I may have missed – I forgot to let his waiver case manager know about his IEP meeting.  It’s tomorrow morning.  I text her and email her quickly, as soon as I realize my mistake.  Why are these things happening to me today?  Thankfully, she actually thinks she will be able to make it.  And she’s not required to be there – it’s just nice to have everyone in that room.

I’m not ready for the IEP meeting.  I honestly haven’t given it a lot of thought or attention.  Things are mostly good – I have some communication desires to bring up, but other than that…. But I know I need to start putting more time and effort into these meetings and this document.  It’s preschool right now, and his entire team is so great…but I have to start thinking about kindergarten and beyond.  I need to start learning more and putting effort in, so I am not completely overwhelmed when we have to start “the fight” of his education and inclusion.  I know enough to know it will not be easy, so I have to stop taking the easy path now just because we are happy with his preschool situation.

My mom is taking Kiran to preschool in the morning, because his dad and I will both be at the IEP meeting.  This means the morning will be cut short, and I have to have everything ready for him and the car packed before I leave.  Thinking I am being proactive and intelligent, I give Kiran his bath tonight.  I clean off his wheelchair from the weekend gunk tonight.  Then I put his clean little body into his wheelchair to eat his dinner.

And he coughs so hard at dinner that he throws up.  All over his clean self and his clean wheelchair…and now his bathtub pillow/mat is in the washer because I was going to get everything clean from the illness last week so I simply wipe him off best I can with wipes and resolve myself to give him another bath in the morning after all.  And now the wheelchair has to be fully taken apart to be scrubbed because vomit has seeped into the cracks and stinks.

So much for planning ahead and wrapping things up tonight.

I came near tears several times today and to tears once or twice.  It was a Mondayish Monday, the worst I’ve had in a long time.  Everything felt – feels – overwhelming.

In the midst of all of it, I kept coming back to this thought: We are here, together.  Everyone is alive.  No one is in the hospital.  Kiran is coughing still, yes, but he’s not sick like he was last week.

You see, I know it can be worse.  I know this isn’t the worst day I’ve ever had.  I know most of this stuff, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t matter as much as it feels like it does.

Doesn’t mean I won’t gripe about my day.  Doesn’t mean I won’t raise my voice when, in the midst of the chaos, Kiran grabs hold of a piece of hair and pulls hard.  Doesn’t mean I won’t cry.  Doesn’t mean I won’t hope to God tomorrow will be better.

It has to be better…right?