we can’t control the wave, but we can learn to surf

I think I wrote on that quote once before, but it’s particularly apt lately. I’ve long since given up trying to control the waves, there’s no point in that. I can’t. Waves have their own rhythm and nothing I do can change that. The best I can do is surf them.

So I’m learning to surf.

I thought once the boys were back in school the surfing would get a bit easier. I’d be able to finally get onto that slippery board, rise up, and enjoy the view while balancing on that wave. They wouldn’t be pulling me back down into the water, demanding that I tow them into shore while at the same time trying to swim the other way.

What has happened instead since that glorious day of August 19th is that now both boys have their own boogie boards, so they’re out in the water with me. The storm way out on the horizon has blown up bigger and deeper waves, and the undertow is strong. The boys are laughing and splashing, thinking this is fun!, while I’m terrified, trying to keep them on their boards while not losing my grip on mine.

To ride these intense waves and not go under, I’ve had to jettison a lot of cargo. This little piece of the internets has suffered deeply as I just haven’t been able to write as I’d like to. Date nights are now 2e parenting seminars. I haven’t read, much less commented on, any blogs in days. Right now my counter is glaring 408 at me. I’ll likely MAAR most of them and I hate doing that, as I started blogging to be part of a community.

My biggest and heaviest cargo was also the most difficult to jettison. I finally decided to drop the home-based business I’d had for over three years. Business, family, sanity: pick two. But it had to be done. With those waves, and the undertow, and the two boys beside me having the time of their lives while I try to keep them happy and healthy and safe…it had to go.

You need only go back and reread my last five posts or so to realize that the waves are doing their damnedest to drown me, and I refuse to allow that to happen. A does indeed have Central Auditory Processing Disorder; I believe the term used was significant. So he now has an ear filter that helps eliminate some of the distracting background noise. He has started vision therapy again, and if I could remember to actually do the exercises with him, I’m sure it’d help a lot. All his GI tests came back entirely normal, and we have yet another appointment this afternoon to determine the next course of action. God bless the school’s GT teacher, who is really fighting for me regarding the whole 2e diagnosis; the district’s requirements…sigh…let’s just say I adore her and want to buy her a puppy for working so hard on A’s behalf. In addition to all this, A has been off any ADHD meds since the end of July, which has been wonderful for appetite and growth, both of which are bigger. It has sucked for attention. Hyperactivity is no more than any other 8 year old, but inattention is so bad Tom and I are at our wits’ end, and it’s no wonder the school doesn’t believe he could possibly be gifted. However, it appears that the Holy Grail Of ADHD Meds is coming to pharmacies in November, and A’s doc will have samples in (pleaseGodohpleaseGod) the next couple of weeks. By Thanksgiving we might have a kid who could actually focus for longer than (not really kidding here) 10 seconds.

The other son? I’m trying so hard to not lose J in all this.

In the grand scheme of things I know this all isn’t life or death. I look around and see others hurting far more than I and the guilt hits hard. There was a terrible bus crash in Idaho this weekend, with a high school marching band on board. Every director’s nightmare. Tom knows the band, knows the director, had dinner last winter with the teacher who was killed. My issues are so insignificant in comparison.

The waves keep coming, stronger and deeper, at all of us. But with every slip off the board I get stronger and wiser, and eventually I’ll be able to stand on that board, on top of the meanest wave, and ride that sucker to shore with a smile on my face.