Category Archives: laryngomalacia

What happens…

What happens when you begin to lose faith? In perspective we haven’t been on this journey long. Five years is nothing when compared to other children’s battles. Having a child undiagnosed with unexplained ailments compared being a parent whose child is fighting a life threatening illness is insignificant in comparison.
I apologize to all who read the Dr. House post and the Poor Me post. I promise I am not just regurgitating, or wallowing. I was just hit, yet again, by the bat that is a doctor who passed the buck.

I feel foolish and selfish for even getting upset. Let alone discussing losing faith. I try to keep this blog upbeat and fresh. I hate wallowing, repeating myself.  But I am struggling. I am second guessing myself. I am wondering if I am the mom who cried wolf.

Why am I upset if not one of the five doctors I have contacted do not think it is significant or alarming that Boo is having swelling in her arms, hands, feet and legs? 

So what do I do when I begin to lose faith? I get pissed. Seriously pissed. In all honesty I also had a healthy cry, a text-fest with Tia and a glass of wine. Maybe two.

But I got pissed and I decided that it’s not okay. I’m okay with Boo being undiagnosed but I am no longer okay with cardiology telling me to call rheumatology who tells me to call the cardiology who tell us to have our Pedi order a test. 

Which she does and then that test is cancelled by radiology who doesn’t think it is necessary.

Because really, why should we investigate why a child is having intermittent swelling in their extremities for no reason? 

So I got pissed. I did some more research (cause I have spare time) and found another specialist to contact. I am making cardiology see her next week and not leaving until he refers us some where. Any where.

I have reached out to two different “Dr. House” type doctors that are not local but I don’t care. I have e-mailed yet another doctor whose blog I read to ask for a recommendation. I found through my own searching of Children’s Hospital a center that deals with disorders of the vascular system. 

I am not giving up. I am not crying wolf. I am not waving the white flag.

Some day. Some how. My child will have a doctor look at her as a whole child and not say call another doctor who will then cancel a test.

Just because her various ailments are not deadly doesn’t make them any less significant. They just make it easy to put into perspective. I know what Boo is experiencing isn’t life threatening. But it is impacting her life. 

And that’s enough for me to get my big girl pants on.

Some people lose faith and curl up in a ball. There is nothing wrong with regrouping. Me? 

I get pissed.

Thank you to everyone who reached out last week. Who gave me ideas, support and were just there being my village. I am using all of the tools you give me to stop wallowing and instead remembering the warrior mom creed:

You will not dismiss my child. She is too important.

Okay, if it’s not our creed it should be.

It’s okay she is turning colors…

Add another diagnosis to Boo’s repertoire. Okay, not another one but “color changes” has officially been updated to Raynaud’s Disease. With this polar vortex happening, her color changes have become more pronounced and she is for the first time telling me, “hands hurt”.

Which is good.

Because, first, she is aware of the pain. Second, she is telling us and third…okay no third upside. Before seeing the doctor we asked Boo’s teachers and therapists to have her skip recess. I know that seems unfair, because the girl likes her slide. However being the mean mom that I am I thought frostbite trumps love of slides.

We finally got an appointment to see her rheumatologist this week. We left at 6:30 in the morning for a 9:30 appointment and made it on time (yeah me!).  This is typical for an early morning appointment. There have been days when we are an hour early and others when, well…when you wait three months for an appointment you better be an early bird and not the late worm.

Into the appointment walks Boo’s previous rheumatologist, the one that left us for Singapore was back. I did a happy dance. Seriously a happy dance. She told us that Boo Reynaurd’s. She further explained that typically they don’t diagnose it this young but obviously she has had it since birth. I honestly breathed a sigh of relief, we were not imagining it. Then the other shoe drops as she told me: However, due to her very low blood pressure we cannot treat her as we typically would medicate. The risk of bottoming out her pressure is not acceptable to the benefit of providing her relief.

Um, low blood pressure? We were just seen by cardiology. Remember, we don’t have to go back for five years! They never mentioned anything about a blood pressure issue. We immediately place a call into cardiology and in typical fashion hear back two days later. 

It seems Boo has always had significantly low blood pressure. We were not told as it does not seem to impact her. Because she isn’t complaining that she is dizzy (would she know how to?) or passing out (obvious clue thank goodness) there is no reason at this time to worry about it.

But if she passes out be sure to call them ASAP. Dude, I’m not calling you I’m calling 911 if that starts to happen. Of course we are not going to medicate the Raynaurd’s if giving her medication will potentially bottom out her blood pressure and kill her. We will keep her warm and try to limit her exposure to the polar vortex.

I am struggling with the faith that some day, some freaking day, instead of being told: well, it isn’t normal but it doesn’t seem to bother her (or my new favorite: just keep doing what you are doing because it is working) a physician is going to say to me:

This is what Boo has and this is how we are going to treat it.

Don’t hide

It used to make my heart stop. When I would see other children Boo’s age and think WHY CAN’T SHE JUST (insert whatever they did). I still get smacked in the head now and then to be honest. 

But I don’t want to NOT hear about your child’s accomplishments. I want to celebrate them with you.

Just like I want you to celebrate with me. When Boo jumps for the first time. When she says a sentence. When she moves all the furniture into one room. Her milestones are different than your child. But that doesn’t minimize what your little one accomplished.

Please do not think you are hurting me by bragging. Heck that is the right of every parent. Even Boo’s. And hell I brag more than anyone. I am excited when I see your child build blocks, sit up unassisted or walk for the first time. The fact that your child did it on schedule and mine took her time?

Yes, it hurts. But in a good way. Because every time you post a milestone I am reminded of Boo’s first whatever. Sadly, Abby’s not so much. Only because Abby hit her stride and never stopped. We didn’t have to work for them. It doesn’t make her milestones less or Boo’s more.

I like your child’s milestones. I’m glad you don’t have to go through what we do to have our child walk, talk, jump or eat. So please don’t stop sharing. And definitely don’t stop celebrating. Just rejoice in how awesome your child is.

I know I do.

My best dream ever….

When I was little I had a very active imagination. My parents would put me to bed and I would spend hours imagining a life other than the one I was currently living. Sometimes I was a princess, sometimes I was a warrior and sometimes I was just a girl living a different life.

Each night it was the same. I would wait until Mom put out the light and close the door and I would line up my stuffed animals all around me. I would begin to imagine this fabulous life where everyone was equal and no one was sad.

As a child I did not know that prejudice existed. That children were born with different needs and talents. That adults would look at a child and judge. The parent and the child would be judged and found lacking. That you would be judged for who you loved, your gender or your skin color.

As an adult I wore blinders. I saw those who were disabled but did not see past their disability. I saw children who appeared disobedient and thought not like mine. I admit to not seeing a person’s color but not standing up to those who did. I lived my life on my terms, never seeing how we are all intertwined.

Then I had Bridget and my ideals evolved. A person who was a wallflower became an advocate. It took Kristi’s Our Land to put my dreams in perspective. She dreamed of a world of empathy and wonder. One where we looked at others with the imagination of a child. Not with the jaundiced vision of adulthood. A land where it would matter that our children had a disability only to make people stop and see the wonder that is this life we live.

My best dream ever? It is a dream where Abby & Boo’s story show the world what wonder and empathy look like. A dream where we judge others like we did back in the sandbox. Not by color, race, creed or gender. But with the opening line:

Do you want to be my friend?

My best dream ever is the one where our children never lose their empathy. That they continue to look at the rain with wonder. That our children make friends first and judgments last. A world where we shared the joys, the heartache and the triumphs of living a life full of blessings.

The cool thing is? My dream is coming true. I was astounded this week when not once or twice I was stopped on the street and told that this blog affected them. In a positive way. When someone sees Boo and looks with kindness and not judgement. That some parent knows they are not alone.  A world when we are allowed to break and heal with someone there to help and not to judge. A life where others view Boo through Abby’s eyes. 

My best dream ever is the one that never ends. A life where Boo shows others how to live in a world of empathy and wonder. Thanks for being with me on my journey to make my dream come true.

Finish the Sentence Friday

Oh and if you haven’t checked out Kristi’s Our Land yet I recommend the trip. It’s not about living with a disabled child. It is about living your life to be better. There are posts about body image, friendships and not judging a person (or yourself) before you meet them. Kristi is the blogging equivalent of Oprah’s AHA moment. 

A funny thing

A funny thing happened on the way to becoming Boo’s mom. I knew Boo was not going to be the same from Abby right from the start. In a way that does not diminish my love and adoration for her sister, but in a way that makes me a better mom to both.  However her being Boo turned me into mom that celebrates moments that shouldn’t happen.
Those who know this story are probably bored by now, but with Boo I am reminded every moment is precious. Even when she shits down my leg I can think “EW” and “wow she said poop” at the exact same moment. The thought that follows close after is thank the Good Lord and all that is Holy I had pants on. 

There have been times when I have been in shorts.

When Boo runs to her sister to get her off the bus I think this is the child who Early Intervention told me might never walk.  I rejoice because I can think of not one other person who gets to see their children race towards one another every afternoon at 4pm. Trust me on this, I never raced to get my brother off the bus.

When Boo says “mum” over and over again I never get tired of hearing her voice. I may wish for an indoor voice at 6am but I never shut the monitor off. I lay in bed and think wow she is up to her 20th word in a row. This is the child I worried would never speak and had her entire family learning sign language to help her communicate.

When I walk into the kitchen and find that Boo has relocated the furniture, managed to climb up the chair and is laughing like a loon I think to myself this is the girl they say has poor motor planning skills.

A funny thing happened on the way to becoming a mom…I became a mom of a child with special needs. Not only special but unique. One who five years later science still does not have a true diagnosis, other than unknown genetic syndrome. With a lot of other issues.

A funny thing happened on the way to becoming a mom with a child who has special needs I discovered what really matters in life.


Finish the Sentence Friday

Different choices

When Abby was young we research schools, private and public. We started in Montessori and would have kept her there if there was an option of a larger school. When we had Boo that changed.

We could no longer afford private school. Thankfully that is the only thing we had to compromise with having Boo. But still, the choice to move to public school for both girls was one we thought long and hard about.

Long enough to contemplate giving up wine, vacations and chocolate.

Thankfully we live in an awesome town. One that has a great educational program, both for the typical and the special. Abby had a hard transition to the formal education program, rather than the more nurturing Montessori. It took time for her to find her groove, but she did. 

I haven’t really thought of our choice for public school. Boo has thrived, simply thrived in her program. Unlike other families we have fallen into a simply awesome program. And then it happened.

I was at the grocery store and ran into a mother of a child who was a classmate of Boo’s last year. Her child had moved on to kindergarten. I asked, innocently enough, how E was enjoying kindergarten. For some reason I assumed that she was in the same public school system. Until the mom informed me they had gone the private school route. 

“You have to have Boo go there for kindergarten”, she innocently said.

In my head I am thinking do you remember Boo? She is right here sitting in the shopping cart. Unlike other 5 year-olds who no longer fit in the cart. Boo is being Boo. Cute, adorable Boo. But not anywhere on par with her own child.

I simply reply that we love the program she is currently enrolled. In my mind I am thinking that we won’t know until late Spring if Boo will be ready for kindergarten or if she will spend a 4th year in pre-K. Which, if needed, I am generally fine with. Until a mother innocently assumes that Boo is “normal” and will be following the normal trajectory of education.

This mother didn’t mean to make me catch my breath. It is just one of those moments when I hit the wall. The wall of knowing that with Boo I have different decisions to make. Ones that will impact Abby more than Boo. Ones where Boo takes precedent of Abby. Our family. Knowing that where we live matters. That we cannot move or change careers or schools at a whim. Knowing that to give Boo the best life possible we all make sacrifices.

Even Abby. Although she doesn’t know it. Abby is in public school because the cost of a special needs child is quadruple (made up figure) what a typical child costs. That we need a larger car to fit Boo’s chair. That we have to pay for extra health insurance . That I have to limit my hours at a well-paying job to be there for Boo’s appointments. Limiting my paycheck and David’s as well. We haven’t saved as we had before Boo. Our savings account has not grown as we expected. This Christmas was a perfect illustration of our new situation. That we didn’t spoil our loved ones as in years past.

We are so, so, so, very lucky to live in a town with a great public school system. One that nurtures both girls. That allows both girls to not only achieve their potential but surpass it. I don’t begrudge Boo. David doesn’t even consider it. Abby, if she knew, would be okay with it.

And I am too. 

Until an innocent bystander assumes that Boo could just transition to a typical classroom.

We are still okay…

Boo has had to undergo neurological/psychiatric testing over the past two weeks. There hasn’t been any issues, other than her turning five. In our state (for insurance purposes, I believe) once you turn the ripe old age of five you are no longer allowed to be undiagnosed and/or globally delayed.

Boo had to go twice, for two hours each day, to meet with a psychologist for a battery of tests. (I think battery is a strong word, she didn’t hurt Boo). The tests varied from intelligence/cognitive testing to behavioral/autism to play skills. Part of me wanted Boo to bomb the testing, securing her services. The good mom in me wanted her to excel.

Typical Boo she did a little of both and managed to frustrate the doctor. I wish I could have Kristi’s artistic talent to demonstrate the following (I tried, I failed, I didn’t want to hurt your eyes):

Doctor: Boo stack the blocks like this (imagine, two next to each other and one on top)
Boo: (hands the doctor the blocks after banging them for a minute)

Doctor: Can Boo climb onto and out of an adult chair?
Boo: Moves said chair next to exam table, proceeds to climb on top of chair, to table, to window sill in an attempt to get out of the room. We happen to be on the 10th floor and very thankful the windows don’t open.

I’m impressed that Boo realized she had to do something with both the blocks and the chair. The doctor is distressed that she cannot follow direction.

At the end of the two days the doctor asked us if we had any questions. I ask her how she feels Boo did. She had previously thrown out words: autism, PPD-NOS, mentally disabled, intellectually disabled, ADHD and a bunch of other terms. Her response:

I have to score the tests.

Hm…now those that know me know that I tend not to be brushed off. I (politely, I swear) reminded the woman that she was an experienced professional who must have some instinct to how Boo had tested.

After a moment or two she told us that she honestly didn’t know. That she wanted to show the test results and video to not only Boo’s neurologist (whom I adore and trust) along with other colleagues. How Boo performed was baffling:

She shows signs of Autism: Will not look the doctor in the eye.

She shows signs that a child with Autism wont: She told the doctor to “look” and sought her attention.

Autism: Hand flapping, quickly distracted, would not follow directions, toe walking
Not: Social, engaging with materials, attempts to please, would put heals down when prompted by cue

Autism: lack of safety awareness
Not: asked for help when trying to get down off the exam table

Intellectually disabled: Cannot copy a “t” on the paper
Not intellectually disabled: can hold a pencil in the correct grasp

ID: Cannot follow a two-step direction
Not: Knew she needed a pencil to draw on paper

ID: Poor motor planning
Not: Pushed chair to get to top of exam table

The examples go on and on. In the end the doctor said at this point Boo is a Medical Enigma.

Where have I heard that before?

She will convene a team (about damn time) to look over everything. She agrees (as do neurology and genetics) that whatever is going on is neurological in origin. In the end it doesn’t really matter what “term” they give Boo. I think Bridgetitis is a lovely term. We will continue to advocate, get therapies that work and love her the same with or without a medical diagnosis.

At five years old, she remains undiagnosed and we are still okay with that.

Happy Day!

Today Bridget turns five. FIVE. That is half a decade I didn’t think I would have with this beautiful child. I have a tradition. Every year I thank everyone who helps her be the best she can be.

Her school. Her teacher and assistants. Her classmates that include Bridget not due to inclusion but due to friendship. With their help she has found her voice. A year ago she was in class but quiet. Now she bosses her classmates at the top of her lungs. A child we were told would never speak shouts.

Her school therapists. They have the hardest job out there. They remain kind but strict, loving but firm. I honestly do not know how they care for the children in this program day in and day out. They are poorly paid, over qualified and have unending patience. We are so very lucky to live in a town where children with special needs are included and counted.  With the upmost care they have taught Bridget how to jump, how to draw a circle and how to be plugged into the world around her.

Her Spaulding team. She has the best bunch of therapists at Spaulding. They have become our support system, our friends and our race buddies. 

They care for more than just Bridget. Her SPT has helped Abby with her homework, or well tried to. Her OT has let Abby be involved with sensory play. Her PT has let Abby be a part of the obstacle course. It’s more than the therapists. The secretaries greet Bridget with a smile and a hug. The medical assistants whom we are not patients for pick Bridget up and listen to her babble. They meet David & I out for dinner. They see us as more than parents of their patient.

Her Children’s team. This year Bridget graduated out of three programs. Her MD list is down to eight. That’s right EIGHT. She still has her quirks but now only needs to see the other doctors in an emergency. She is STABLE people. As in stable does not need intense monitoring. As in has not been hospitalized in TWO years. As in only has to go to CHB twice a year.

Her friends. The little girl who invited Bridget to a birthday party. The friends that come over to our home because it is easier for her than going to theirs. The friends at our Irish pub who smile at her antics when we take her out for dinner. The friends that encouraged her all summer so we could have this moment. This beautiful moment:

Her family. The ones the read this blog and don’t get upset with me for my openess. The ones that know by reading this blog they are helping Bridget. The ones that don’t read this blog but show their love to Bridget by supporting her every moment.

Her sister.  Abby is aware that her sister is special. Each year the definition, in Abby’s mind, of special evolves. But what never wavers is her love and support. She is the reason Bridget went into the ball pit of terror in OT. Her name was Bridget’s first word and she is the first person Bridget runs to after school.

Today is Bridget’s Happy Day. And I thank each and everyone one of you for making it so.

Would you CARE?

It’s the last day of the 31 for 21 Challenge. I didn’t really make the goal of blogging everyday. However I was beyond happy to participate. As this is the last day I was thinking about Robert Saylor. How this young man with Down Syndrome lost his life because those who are there to protect were not trained to work with those whom have special needs.

Because while you might be aware of Down Syndrome you might not really understand it.

Then last week I read an article about the C.A.R.E. program. C.A.R.E. stands for Children and Residents Encounter program. It is the brainchild of the Colerain, OH police department. To my understanding, this program is designed to educate emergency personnel to those within their community with special needs. Be it Alzheimer’s, autism, mental health issues or behavioral issues.

Colerain has an estimated 1 out of every 150 residents on the autism spectrum. Chances are pretty great that at one point the emergency personnel will come into contact with a person who has special needs.

C.A.R.E. is a program where the family gives the emergency personnel information regarding the child’s (or adult) health and mental issues. The parent provides detailed information: are they on a monitor, do they have anger issues, what medication are they on, do they elope, what if anything do the police need to know if they are responding to your home or anyplace in town where that person might be in need of assistance.

Just think, if the police had known about Robert he might have lived. They would have been aware of his triggers, known he had Down Syndrome and been trained to deal with a person who has diminished capacity.

Yes, apologies to all the parents I just offended, but our children have diminished capacity and do not understand that  their behavior has unintended consequences. Sadly, neither are the first responders always educated.

One argument against C.A.R.E. is that we are giving up our children’s privacy. Do you really want your neighbor who listens to the police scanner (my MIL) know that your child is suffering from (insert your child’s diagnosis here).  Heck, I do it everyday here on this blog! But I see their point. Some parents are not “out” they don’t want the neighborhood to know that their child is autistic or bipolar or clinically depressed.

But in an emergency does privacy matter? If your child has suicidal tendencies wouldn’t you want the first responders to know? If your child is prone to throwing lamps in anger wouldn’t you want the first responders not to respond with force but with patience and kindness? If you child is deaf and does not hear the police say stop as they run in fear would you like them not to use force?

If you were Robert’s mom wouldn’t you have wanted the police to know that her child didn’t understand why he couldn’t just rewatch the movie? While I have never met Ms. Saylor I can imagine her anguish.

Upon learning about the C.A.R.E. program, I reached out to our local police and fire departments. I asked them about signing onto the program, or a similar idea. I explained how the Ohio police department minimized training costs and related expenses. They replied that this was one of their long-term goals.

Which I appreciate.

But I want more. I don’t want a goal I want a program. I want our police and fire to have a card on Boo. I want them to know her name, what she looks like and how to react should they encounter her during one of her eloping episodes.

Screw her privacy. Her life is more important.

To be preachy, so should your child’s. Forget their privacy or your embarrassment. Contact your local police and fire departments. Tell them about C.A.R.E. or another program that will protect everyone. If that doesn’t work, tell them about your child! Tell them you have a child in your home that has special needs and they NEED to have this information.

Think of Izzy and her mom, whom the area hospital knew and still couldn’t protect.

Think of your child and their temper tantrums. When they are out of control and you are doing the best you can but the neighbors call the cops to protect you.

Think of your child who climbs or wanders and the new neighbors do not understand that your daughter is autistic and does not realize they cannot swim in any pool they come across.

Think of your son who is manic depressive and might encounter emergency personnel during one of his psychotic breaks.

Truthfully, the neighbors and police and EMS are not wrong. When faced with an out of control person or a child that looks much older than they are developmentally, they have no other thought than to protect those in control. They will try to reason or restrain with compassion. But in fear for themselves and those around them they will also respond with force.

It is not anyone’s fault. Not your neighbor’s for calling the police, not the police for seeing an out of control person and trying to restrain them, not your child’s fault for having a disability and not your fault either. Ultimately we need to protect our children and those they come into contact. I think C.A.R.E. is a great start.

Think of Robert and know that could be your child.

Screw privacy and think protection.
 In Robert’s Memory and in Respect for a mother’s grief I end this month of Down Syndrome awareness in their honor.

Mike never met Boo

Yes, it has only been 48 hours since my bright idea to emulate Mike and Carol Brady. Funny it didn’t take a half-a-year for me to begin failing. I know, you want to pat me on the head and say give myself a break.

But truthfully I sometimes wonder where the brakes are.

Boo has been out of her school program for just over a week. I thought going away would be a great idea. We went camping and instead of camping we dodged rain storms. Being away set off her bowel issues.

Which I was prepared for, seriously, I have enough meds to rectify either option: Hazmat or Obstruction. What wasn’t I prepared for was Boo’s regression to happen so quickly. Only two days home from vacation and she is no longer feeding herself, not going to bed without screaming for over an hour (whomever said that children cry themselves to sleep after 10 minutes never met Boo) and having frustration issues.

I just do not know how to calm my child. First she wants her shoes off. Okay, I can do that. Then she screams, bangs her head and throws herself to the floor because they are off. I swear she made her head spin. Maybe it was mine. 

I caved and put them back on. Nope, she wanted them off. Then on. Then I want a cookie (her, I wanted a glass of pinot grigio–there was still some left in the box). I decide to put on therapist/mom hat and employ the ABA therapies. She wants the shoes off they stay off. She can’t decide between Oreos and goldfish? She gets her first choice even if she runs away asking for a donut.

I’m done at this point. Mike is nowhere to be found. Carol, well I don’t have her hair or patience. So I put on therapy hat…we will by all that is Holy employ ABA. If she wants her shoes on, then they stay on no matter how she screams. She wants cookies? Then she gets her first choice, even after she walks away screaming.

The icing on the cake? Allie comes up to me and says:

Is it times like this you wish Boo wasn’t Boo?

And I break, again. I channel Carol and explain, it’s not Boo that is the problem. It is that Mommy doesn’t know how why Boo is screaming. Why Boo can’t decide between shoes on or off.

Mommy just doesn’t get it sometimes.

That Allie or Mom or Dad can’t “fix” this, we just have to try anything that may work. That I have to put up with behavior I would never allow Allie to get away with. That Allie sees that Boo gets treated differently by her parents. That we have two children that we have to treat differently.

That is not Boo’s fault or really mine. But that whole Catholic guilt thing…with an added dose that as a mom we are not doing quite enough makes me wonder.


Why don’t I have the answers. A mom is supposed to, right?

Why does Boo get so frustrated?

Why can’t she use her words?

Why am I so whiny. For Cripes sake my child has words, and can walk and can show her frustration. There are so many parents out there with less.

Why, oh why must I be down?

Why the freak can’t she realize she is supposed to sleep alone. Yes, she slept in my arms for a weekend camping. But that’s over now. Why does it take five nights to undo two?

Why if I have to be Carol is there not an Alice? I mean, seriously people do you think Mike and Carol would have been so calm without their Alice.

Just think how much easier life would be with Alice.

There would be pork chops and applesauce. That I wouldn’t have to cook or force Allie to eat.

Alice knew that the one thing not to stomach was a perfect kid. Although I wouldn’t mind that perfect kid for an hour or two.

Alice knew that a five letter word for exhaustion was ALICE. Another good choice would be MOMMY

Alice, when asked an unanswerable question would reply if the right answer meant a trip to Europe. I wonder if the girls would have to go?

Anyway, I kind of got off point (are you still out there), is I wonder if this gets easier. I thought Boo’s first days in the NICU were bad. Then I thought, when she threw up everything I put into her, that this was the hard time. Then and then and then….there are a gazillion times I thought life would be getting easier.

Then there was summer break.

And sleepless nights.

Wondering if I am every going to get being Boo’s mom right.

And so thankful, from the bottom of my soles, that Boo is back in school on Monday.

There better not be snow.