Flip

Now, I'm the only girl on the planet, I think, who can say this. But do you remember the movie, "The Cutting Edge?" The one about a snobby figure skater who teams up with an Olympic hockey player to win a pairs' skating medal or something? I hate that movie. I hate it. I hate it with my whole heart and maybe some other internal organs as well.

But there's this part that I only remember a little--and it has to do with the heroine drunkenly monologuing about life getting turned on its ear. "Flip!" she said, hiccuping. I don't remember much more than that. If you're tempted to walk me through the scene, please don't. I really do hate that movie.

Anyway, it's unfortunate, but every time our life together as a family has to stop, reconsider, and do something completely different, it's the picture of that girl saying "flip!" that replays in my head.

And here we go. Flip!

Preschool ends next week for the school year. Just as I was getting into a rhythm--work 8:45-12:30--it all gets flipped again. Now, Nora and I will hang out with no particular home base in Lafayette for the duration of William's daily therapy, and I will find another time to do my work. Probably nap time and evenings.

Sigh. I'm not complaining. I knew this day was coming. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I was a Girl Scout as a kid. I know I'm supposed to be prepared. And most of my life is spent trying to do just that, even if I look like I'm just staring off into space. I'm not daydreaming about a glamorous trip around Europe in a convertible; I'm planning. I'm thinking about the best way to be prepared, always. That's why it's frustrating that our lives get turned upside down so often. The new is always unknown. I can think, plan, measure, shop, ask questions all I want. But I'm not really going to know the best way to be prepared for what's coming until I'm in it.

But I still plan. I'm not worried because of a lack of a plan. I'm worried because I might have come up with the wrong one. And then I won't know what to do. As a parent, what I've come to understand--much to my shame--is that when my plan doesn't work, I'm not controlling the situation. My kids are. And when I can't wrangle control from my kids, I lose my temper. And that's when I see red and turn into a mean, unholy mommy. It's one thing to unleash scary mommy in your own home. It's another to uncover her when you're at the public library 45 minutes away from home.

And that's why I still try to plan for what I don't know. We have friends in Lafayette who have kids around Nora's age, and I think we'll visit them once a week. A few days, we'll probably go to the playground and I'll let her run around while I sit on a bench and do all the work I can with a notebook and pen. I've decided to make two days a week our special dates. And, since she's expressed the fact that she's going to miss yoga Tuesdays at preschool, I figured it might be a nice idea to start all our days off with a little mommy/Nora yoga at the park. I've never attempted yoga with a preschooler. I imagine it's sort of a different dynamic.

I do see it as an opportunity to bond with Nora. But I'm so nervous. I'm nervous I'm going to squander it, or ruin it, or somehow communicate to her that I don't like spending time with her (which, just in case it hasn't been clear thus far--NOT true). I want her to look back on this summer with fond memories. Like, that was the time in my life that my parents suddenly dropped out of my life because of William's diagnosis and therapy, and then there was this summer. And it was perfect; I had Mommy all to myself. You know?

Of course it won't be perfect. But perfect in my eyes and perfect in hers are two different things. And I want her to see perfection in this summer. She deserves at least three months of perfection before we "flip!" all over again.