Sometimes I envy the moms who can stay in their vehicle at school drop off and pick up. Safe from the scrutiny of others because let’s face it: Sometimes, we are a mess.

Sometimes our hair didn’t get brushed because their hair and teeth did. Sometimes we can’t remember the last time we even washed our hair.

Sometimes our clothes don’t match, or they’re the ones we’ve worn all week to drop off in the mornings. Sometimes our legs are unshaven; our toenails unpainted.

But it’s because their clothes are clean, and they have everything in their backpack they need for today.

Sometimes I envy the moms that don’t have to visibly carry it all, parading right in front of the eyes of others who might have it more put together that day.

Sometimes, I hope the mom who needs to see that she’s not alone sees me. In all my mess.

Everything I dreamed about as a little girl looks nothing like the life I have before me

But that’s the thing about dreams: They grow and stretch along with us

The imaginings of a child whose bubble had not yet burst, who had not yet been touched by darkness and grief

Could never be of the beauty this life holds for me, now

Because it’s true, what they say

The joy is so much more vibrant, the light much brighter

Because the darkness has swallowed you whole before

So I look at my life; I hug my child tight

And the shit that persistently sprays all over my world

Becomes easier to wash away

Do you know what I can’t stop thinking about? The nurse I spoke to on the phone yesterday that – a bit rude with her tone, to be honest – asked me if my son “was there” when I explained it was hard to tell if his eye is itchy because he tends to touch them frequently.

It is obvious to me this nurse didn’t bother to take a quick peek at his chart before talking with me, and this was the third time I spoke with her. Maybe it isn’t customary – maybe there isn’t enough time in the day? – but if you aren’t going to look for the big things in my son’s medical chart, maybe take a pause and think about why I’m wording things the way I am. Assume competence in me, too.

I calmly explained that he is non-speaking and doesn’t yet have a way to tell me things like this. So she sent the prescription in for us. And I haven’t been able to get the conversation out of my head since.

“Well – is he there?!”

Sometimes, it doesn’t take much to cause another tiny crack in my mama’s heart. Patience and kindness sure can go a long way.

I don’t want to be the decision maker anymore.

Sunday night, maybe an hour after I put Kiran to bed, he cried out for me. Not once, but twice. This is unusual, so immediately, I am putting my detective hat on. I’m on high alert, checking his temp, watching for any signs of illness, trying to figure out what’s going on. Because this is really unusual – this kid loves his sleep.

Some coughs start popping up here and there. They sound rough but not chesty (if you know, you know? maybe)…so it’s an easy decision to keep him home from school Monday. Monitor him all day – no true fever but runs a little warm, especially as the day progresses. Sleeps well but wakes about an hour earlier than his typical morning time Tuesday morning. A much harder decision for me, because *I* had to pry myself away from his cuddly little arms and take myself to school for my current clinical placement. But he stayed home. General consensus from his lovely caregivers that day (shout out to Eric and my mom!) was that he was in good spirits but just seemed a little tired.

To me, it seemed like I probably could have sent him to school yesterday, so I was confident in my decision to send him today. He made it until 2:00, and I got a call from the nurse. Kiran is in her office. He’s in good spirits, but he’s been trying to fall asleep during his diaper changes, and his temp is at 100. So not a true temp and it’s my choice whether to have him stay for the rest of the day. It is SO much harder when it’s not a clear-cut situation, but I always err on the side of caution – and rest – and recovery – at least when it comes to him. So of course I pick him up so he can come home to nap.

So now – NOW – what. Now what?

Unless he gives me a super clear cut path to follow for tomorrow (spikes a fever), I have no idea whether to send him to school or not. He’s welcome back; he could have stayed there today. But it certainly seems like his little body is needing more rest than the school day allows. And – and I HATE that I have factors in my life but I have legitimate factors in my life – I really need tomorrow to put time/effort into a big project because the rest of my week is (hopefully) filled with important family/friend/life things. Which of course I can’t do if he’s truly sick anyway.

This is all just a long gripe, honestly. This is me just sometimes really tired of this situation. I don’t like being a detective. I hate when my boy isn’t feeling well. And I am truly sick to death of feeling like I have a plan for the week – even enter a week in a really balanced place – and it all just crumbles to pieces. I’m sick of the pivot.

Grief is such an odd thing.

Yesterday afternoon, we laid my old kitty, Pickle, to rest. And it’s been far harder than I imagined it would be.

I got Pickle when I was 24 years old. He lived most of my adult life after college (1.0) with me. He moved from Seattle to Iowa to Seattle to Iowa when I couldn’t decide where I wanted to be. He saw all my major relationships (marriages) when they were good and when I needed to leave. He was a constant in my adult life, and now he’s gone.

I hold so much guilt for – honestly – the past 6 years. When Kiran and I moved in with my parents, my cats couldn’t come. Yes, they had a loving home, and yes, I visited them often (they were with Eric at his house – for 3 years!), but they weren’t with me. And I am pretty sure Pickle never forgave me for bringing a puppy home two years ago. He was not impressed, and he was not a fan.

But Tux sure thought Pickle was great and they were best friends, and watching him grieve the loss hurts my heart even more.

I wish I would have had the same capacity to love and care for Pickle in these last three years that I had in the first ten years he was mine. It happens, though – life gets busy with a kid, and I know my caregiving capacity is often at its max. Still, I hold guilt that I wasn’t able to uphold his dignity in the end – his long, regal fur full of mats and dirty – he always did hate being brushed or groomed in any way.

I know I have to let it go, eventually. And I know how much I loved him – and he knows, too. He was my first baby boy. My first pet as an adult. And it all hits even more because suddenly, we are a no-cat household. I started grieving Pickle when we had to let Olive go almost two years ago, because he was only one year younger. I knew this time would come. And I’m deeply sad about it.

I envy Kiran at times like this. I am honestly not sure if that sweet boy knows sadness. He is purely in the moment all the time, and his moments are just filled with joy. It is hard to stay sad.

But Kiran’s in bed now, and the sadness comes. Typically a person who wants to go through the stuff and get it out of my sight and out of the house immediately, I am finding myself paralyzed to go downstairs and clean up Pickle’s area. He spent a lot of his time either in the basement (where the dog wasn’t allowed) or right at the top of the stairs in his favorite box. At my request, Eric took the box out today. I don’t know which was worse – seeing it there or seeing it gone.

I know that I grieve hard – and well – because of my life experiences with heavy loss. And I know that the immense sadness is because of the incredible love. And I know – he was “just” a cat – but he was family, my baby boy, my Pick. And I’m sure gonna miss him.

My graduate clinical supervisor today told me (and I’m paraphrasing here) I am very much a mom to a complex kid. She said the way that I said Kiran is doing well and really, it’s “just” the daily care with him …

Just. No active parent/caregiver should ever minimize their daily responsibilities that way. And she reminded me of that.

She reminded me I probably don’t even think about or realize all of the tasks I do as a mom to Kiran. She reminded me of how far I’ve come on my graduate school journey, and she said a big reason why they chose me for this program is they see my grit and my passion because I am Kiran’s mom.

So. I didn’t quit grad school today. That’s a win.

That delicate balance I wrote about recently shattered in the face of an illness that had me in bed for days. I don’t do ill well, and I didn’t grieve the loss of my big birthday weekend well, and I spiraled a bit.

So. I reached out and made an appt with the online mental health counseling services my grad school provides. And I reached out to my supervisor and said “I’m struggling.”

And today, she reminded me there are options. She assured me there are backups if I can’t find a local adult placement. She assured me I could extend the program, if needed, thru summer or fall of 2025.

It’s not all or nothing – buck up or walk away.

And just hearing those options – and most importantly, feeling SEEN by her, as a mom who has a lot on her plate that many don’t see – made me feel better about it all.

And a wise, wise member of my cohort (so many also had words of encouragement for me a few days ago, when I was really struggling to find the light in my darkness) today told me she’s been asking herself this question lately: “What if I cared about school a little less and about myself a little more?”

Yes. What if.

At this point in our family’s life, the balance beam we walk is very narrow. One illness, one job cancellation, one unexpected bill, one sleepless night – the balance is no longer sustainable.

We fall right off that beam.

It’s not the end of the world. It just means we have to live off-balance for awhile. I have made balance a much bigger priority this year, out of necessity for my own mental health.

But it’s important, too, to not place balance on too big a pedestal. I have to be okay with a few day/weeks/months where the balance is a bit off, out of necessity.

This, too, shall pass.

I have to tell myself this, over and over. Because things don’t seem sustainable right now. And they aren’t, long-term. But this is short-term. It’s not forever.

Just keep swimming … right?

I have never been one who likes change. Even as a person who is constantly trying to better herself and grow in multiple areas, I hate it when things in life – that are NOT under my control – change.

Today is Kiran’s last day with his beloved associate at school, who has been with him for two years. She has been a constant presence in his life at school since halfway through his kindergarten year. I trust her so much, I hired her on as a respite care provider for Kiran as well. She is moving on to bigger and better things – she, too, has been in graduate school these past few years – and I am so thrilled for her.

But I am heartbroken for me. For Kiran.

I am reminding myself, as I met the sweet (YOUNG) woman this morning who will be taking over as his associate (and – for what it’s worth – he has a different associate T/Th, so this is his associate M/W/F – so there is some constancy), that I was also devastated when Kiran’s first kindergarten associate moved on. And he ended up with this amazing one that I am now devastated to lose. So chances are, this new one will be amazing in her own ways, and when she inevitably moves on, I will be heartbroken all over again.

There are a lot of relationships that change in Kiran’s life, because we have a lot of people comprising his team. Some, I am glad to see go – or I even have made the decision to move to someone different. But many, I am so sorry to say goodbye to.

This will be a hard one.

Balance.

I am not going to lie; I had to look back at my New Year’s post for 2023 to even remember the word I chose. Luckily for me, vulnerability is something I seem to get better at all the time, so I am going to call it a win. A growth. Yay for me.

2022 was authenticity. Both of those go hand-in-hand, really, which is what I wrote about last year. But something I have already been working on these past few months is going to be my focus for the coming year.

Balance.

It is going to embed itself into several areas of my life. The most important one – the one I have already been focused on – has to do with actually finding time to take care of myself in the midst of all of my responsibilities. I am wanting it to grow into areas like exercise and nutrition – the ways I find it hardest to take care of myself, after a regular shower schedule (do you KNOW how much work taking a shower can be, when you’re overwhelmed and stressed and perpetually have a to-do list three miles long!?!).

I also want it, eventually, to grow into relationships. Balance. Putting in the effort with those who are putting in the effort with me. I’ll be honest – I know I haven’t been great at relationships lately, in all forms. But I love my people, and I want relationships to grow and be more – real – and evident in my life. It is hard when I feel like every day, I am empty and have nothing more to give. But I think by finding a better balance – a better footing – I will have more. It is, perhaps, my greatest hope for the coming year: To be able to give more energy and take in more love from those around me.

Cheers to the new year.