meant to

Trevy's 6 months post hemi anniversary just blurred right by.


I meant to write a long, eloquent, dripping with sappy post about it. About how much it means to be on The Healing Side. How much he's changed. How quickly the time has passed by. How hopeful we are. How I call his name a hundred times a day...just to watch him turn around and look at me. Because he UNDERSTANDS now! How it makes the deepest part of me tingle when he hears the airplane overhead and looks upward. How amazing it is to hear his sweet little voice every day. Even if every word sounds exactly the same. "dah-dah". How we no longer feel haunted by the Monster. Except that part's not true. But the rest is. And I meant to put together a beautiful post.


I meant to.


Good intentions.


I've also meant to do a whole mountain of other things...


Drop 20 lbs for...like...forever now...


::crunch crunch crunch::


Start a St. John's Wart regimen for this blurry can't remember a dang thing brain of mine...


::now where did I put that full fat ranch dip again::


Call my brother...


::why whenever I think about him do I suddenly crave oreos::


Teach Bristel how to write her last name.


::bleh...baby carrots are no substitute for chocolate::


Be a happier mommy and a more attentive and better wife/mommy/school teacher/chef/maid/advocate/cheerleader/the whole kit & kaboodle in general...


::thank God Jonathan didn't find those oreos::


Look into ABA for Trevy...


::shoulda stopped at 4...now I'm feeling nauseous::


because I just know I'm not doing everything (ABA...out patient OT...PT...hippotherapy...water therapy...music therapy...every therapy) possible and he's going to grow up to be less than he could be because of me! Because I failed him.


Because I didn't lose this stupid weight...


didn't resolve those issues...


didn't teach my own daughter how to write her last name...


wasn't joyful and attentive and energetic and creative enough...


served cheerios with milk if we still had some left...rather than create a gourmet spread at least once a week...


didn't advocate enough...


wasn't pushy enough...


because obviously I didn't believe in him enough...


(we all have regrets)


wasn't independently wealthy enough so I could saturate him with everything everyone tells me he needs to be successful by day. By night...rejuvenate at the local Day Spa!


Yeah. That's the junk that's been swirling in my crazy head lately.


Even though deep inside I know this isn't Truth. I still struggle with the guilt. The pressure. The regrets. The desire for Trevy to be okay. To be more than less. So you can see why I haven't really gotten myself together enough to write a beautiful, eloquent, sap filled post about how it feels to be 6 months on the other side. The Healing Side. The Healing but still Haunted Side.


And how weird is it that Trevy's 6 month anniversary would happen to fall on Mother's Day?


Anyway...