When Time Stands Still

There are days when I forget how old I am, but with the hustle and bustle of life I get reminded in the most unique of ways.

My reminder today consisted of pink hair.

So every couple of years or so, I get a wild hair up my butt and put red streaks in my hair. Nothing too crazy, usually fairly subtle and usually ends up looking awesome.

I tried a new dye last night since they discontinued the one that I am most comfortable with and needless to say the end result was not a subtle red, but so vibrant that it looks kind of, well, pink. Seby was EXTREMELY amused.

Now this would be all well and great, if we didn't have things coming up in court this year, or in process of trying to get respite care for Seby, doctor's appointments, maybe getting some part-time work to surround myself with other same minded adults, amongst a number of things that since I haven't finished my cup of coffee yet I don't remember.

At that moment I realized having pink hair will really throw a wrench in these things. At that moment I realized I'm not a teenager anymore and haven't been for years. I'm supposedly an adult. I'm not that young kid that can throw crazy colors in her hair and it "be OK". The timing just isn't right, right now. I have too much going on. But will there ever be a "good time" to have pink hair, or red, or blue? As the months go by I find myself having a hard time believing that.

I, like a number of moms I know that have children with special needs, have subconsciously begun describing my life in terms of pre-Seby and post-Seby. I have no idea when I started doing this, and was always so adamant that I wouldn't EVER think that way while I was pregnant. I planned on making this transition to motherhood as seamless as possible. I was going to be the career-mom, wife, and all around perfect parent. I gave myself such high expectations about what my life was going to be that I failed to have much of a back up plan. But who thinks about back up plans when they are pregnant? Usually the back up plan failed and HENCE the reason you're about to pop out a baby the size of a watermelon, right?

Not so subconsciously, but more realistically, I only plan 6 months out for Seby. This makes me less panicked. I don't know how or what he's going to be like a year from now, 5, or 10. Those thoughts are not only nerve wracking, but downright terrifying. I refuse to plan that far out with him. 6 months or less is best. The most amazing feeling of last week was realizing that after his Endocrinology follow up, he will not have any Doctor's appointments for the next 6-8 months, unless something major comes up. No more surgeries this year and probably next year, no more follow ups, no more scheduling. I haven't felt this lightweight in over a year. I haven't been on a real vacation in forever, but I am sure that this is equivalent to lounging on a pristine beach with a pina-colada in one hand and a bottle of suntan lotion in the other.

Now I MUST have all this time on my hands, right? Oh if only I was so lucky. Between feedings, diaper changes, therapies during the week, therapies at home, house cleaning, laundry, misc home renovations, filing, bill paying... I have LOADS of time on my hands to sit around and fantasize about being in Hawaii or some where equivalent with less volcanoes. Sometimes I wish I had a video camera recording a day in my life. It would probably run out of memory by noon. I really miss being able to sleep.

It's 10 AM and here I am, watching Seby watch TV while I type all of this out of my head and drink my 1st cup of coffee of the day from my pumpkin mug. I've already paid some bills, fed Seby, made coffee, rescheduled some personal appointments, planned the weekend vs. our budget and I'm behind schedule for the day.

It's really hard trying to have an identity crisis when you're so busy.

Maybe I can just say I'm supporting October's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, just so that I don't have to figure out when I can run to the beauty store for dye.
Save the Ta-Tas!" I'll say to people if they give me this weird look as I push my little guy that already looks different with his hearing aids and headband on.

I may not know how re-dying my hair is going to come out, or who exactly I am as a person (I may leave that monologue for another post). But I do know this:

Today I'm scheduling in a nap.