Days like this...

So, ironically enough, I felt like I've had "it" together lately (whatever the hell "it" is).
You know I've...
worked my 40 hours.
played Taxi-Cab mom.
made dinner nearly every night (real dinners, not even canned chili and Frito's).
done Homework.
went to Back to School Night.
scheduled new therapists at Shriners for Deak (for free, Yay!)
attempted to budget by not buying lunch ever (which includes starving some days).
made cookies, and pies and breadsticks...the domestic stuff that makes me feel like I fit in with the local culture.
taken the kids to do fun things and even planned a little get-together for Blair's Birthday.
I really have done my best to "do it all."
I can do it all.

But, still.
I am missing something.
I feel helpless today.
And, for me...there is no feeling in the entire universe that makes me feel worse.

I just want to be a good mom. Honestly. That's it.
I want to be good at all the other stuff too, but it just doesn't matter as much.
Today...I feel like crap.
Crap.
Period.

Sometimes, it comes back.

Grief.
Not often anymore, in fact...not hardly ever.

But, there is something about milestones that does it for me.
My baby boy is going to Kindergarten Monday.
Monday.
I can't even type the sentence without streaming tears.

I don't know what the big deal is.
He has gone to school for the past two years nearly every day.
I wish somebody would clue my heart into that rational piece of information.

He is going to have the most wonderful teacher and the most wonderful classroom environment (the mama bear did what she needed to do to ensure that months ago), but still....kindergarten?

Man.

Deakon was invited to his mainstream classroom's Kindergarten Orientation Monday.
I don't think I can do it.
I've stood by his side in pain, held him on my lap while he struggled to stay alive, and watched him endure an endless array of doctors and pokes and needles...
but, I don't think I can do this.

I have surrendered to the acceptance of Deakon's pathway in life.  I genuinely embrace my boy for who he is and look forward to watching him grow and continue to exceed the expectations of others. 
But...
there is just  something about sitting in a traditional classroom with 20 or so little five year old bodies; bodies that effortlessly move and talk and even breathe.  A body that I pray every single night I am living right enough to get to someday witness in my son. 

My heart aches for the day simple things become effortless.

There will be handouts and discussions about homework and parties and classroom rules, and quite frankly, I will be lucky if the Deakster stays still and quiet for five minutes of the discussion (rules aren't really his thing.)  I feel torn between pushing myself (and others) into focusing on the plethora of things that make my Deak similar, and defending Deak's differences and allowing his overall happiness to override and take precedent.
I feel like I don't want to do either.

Does this emotional rollercoaster get easier?
Yes.
It most definitely has.
But, sometimes it still hurts too.