The last few months have been super busy.  During a pre-season soccer game, my son broke his jaw, and had to have surgery the next day.  His jaw was wired shut for 6 weeks, and he could only drink liquids (or super blended things that would go through a straw).  He needed me, and I felt badly.  I felt badly it was noticeable that I don’t spend that much time with him on a weekly basis.  I don’t worry about what he eats, what he wears, when he sleeps or when he showers/washes himself.  I don’t make sure he brushes his teeth, or wears the right shoes to school.  I don’t even worry if he does his homework.  He knows. He just does.

Phoebe does need these things.  On a daily basis, I am doing more than just these to make sure she gets through life.  She can’t remember things, struggles with certain things, and doesn’t make good decisions (or makes great decisions for a 7-year-old, not a 20-year-old). She even needs someone to tell her what foods are good for her. Phoebe needs attention.  She needs someone every day to reinforce those good behaviors and good decisions.  Her team at school does this for her, and I do this at home (and her sitters). When this accident happened, Brendan needed me.  He needed me to help him with making the right foods. He also needed me to help manage his pain and what he could/could not tolerate.  He needed his mom.  I was reminded that he too needs my attention, and my time.

Phoebe did not love this attention taken away from her.  Despite needing the help, she also craves attention whether it’s positive or negative.  This has been the case since she was 5.  When I got up at night to check on Brendan, she would get up.  When I would give Brendan his meds, she would follow me to his room.  She would be mad that he was only drinking liquid, and that I should make him eat regular food.  (tried to buy him Oreos a few times) She wanted him to stop talking like he was.  (through his teeth) She wanted him to play soccer, so she could go to the games and watch.  She did not like HER routine upset.  Anything out of the ordinary, and her world is put in to a spin.

Let’s be honest, I don’t love my world being put in to a spin either, but I can talk myself through it. I usually know there is an end in sight.  (thankfully) When all this was said and done, and Phoebe’s world went back to “normal”, I felt sorry for her.  I felt more sorry than I have ever felt for her.  Sorry, that her adult body can’t regulate emotions and feelings.  Sorry, that anything out of the ordinary gives her such intense anxiety that she doesn’t know what to do with it.  No amount of medication seems to help.

While on any given day it drives me CRAZY….what must it be like to live in her body?