Holding On

It has been a busy week.

I’m testing the theory that if I kept us all on the move then time won’t seem so long.

So far it doesn’t seem to hold much water.

Martial Arts with Liam three times per week, Beavers, school and to top it off my friend offers to watch the kiddies for me so I can attend a “deployment coffee break” at the Military Family Resource Centre (MFRC). And this week it’s also Rick and Dani’s birthdays. Next week it’s Kate’s turn.

With all this excitement and activity you’d think Liam would be sleeping better. You’d think his mind and body would be so exhausted that a full nights’ sleep would at occur at least once. But no – he continues his broken pattern of sleep so we continue ours.

There are times when our emotions are so close to the surface that you can almost reach out and touch them, like coy carp in a pond. I can’t remember how many Advil I’ve taken and still the throbbing headache above my left eye continues.

Rick calls on his birthday and we talk longer than usual. I know it will mean we’ll run out of minutes before the end of the week but I don’t care.

He’s read my blog. I knew it wouldn’t take long before someone told him about it. What surprises me is that another soldier in Afghanistan is the one to bring it up. I’m nervous about what he thinks and I ask if he wants me to stop.

“Don’t stop. If it helps – keep going,” is what I hear and am reminded for the millionth time why I love him. He’s worried about Liam and upset I didn’t tell him how bad it’s gotten.

I have no response. He knows about the “golden rule”.

“We’ll get through it,” I say.

The deployment coffee break is a pleasant surprise. I had somehow gotten the image of a darkened room full of bawling women imbedded in my brain. Instead, I find a room full of women laughing and telling stories about their spouses and families.

I’m approached by one of the staff to talk about my childcare situation. There are no spaces available for a special needs child – let alone a 13-year-old. She advises she’ll work on something for me. I’m almost hopeful.

It’s not easy for Kate. She can’t express what she’s feeling or thinking.

Because she’s non-verbal it’s sometimes easy to think she’s not feeling the stress. But today she ran away from school at lunchtime and another child had to chase her down.

It’s the second time my phone has rung today. This morning there was an incident on the bus. I have no idea how to respond, much less how to curb her actions.

The resource teacher is meeting with the vice-principal over both incidents. I have no idea what that means.

Once again I feel woefully inadequate as Kate’s mom. I wish Rick was here. Day 27.