In our makeshift creek again today. π We are the epitome of trash and I’m happy they’ll one day say, remember how we’d play in that big puddle everyday?
I struggle with guilt every darn day. And not to sound one-uppity, it’s a 100 million times worse than regular ole mom guilt. With a special needs kid, you can tell yourself at any second of any day that you should be doing more with them: working on standing up, walking in her walker, practicing her words. You can spiral so deep into the she isn’t progressing because I’m not working with her any chance I get.
And yet I have to believe that letting her sit in a puddle all afternoon in the sunshine is just as beneficial. I have to or I’ll go crazy and I’m already halfway there anyway.
I have a second blog where I let a literal stream of consciousness flow from my fingertips. Where questions and accusations and love and hatred and shame and pride all come to an intersection of prayer. It always ends in prayer unintentionally. But because it’s easier for me to write than to say, and since i hardly take time to pray, I feel God meeting me in the easiest way possible.