|Max discovers the mysteries of the sprinkler in his new backyard!|
The prospect of moving used to be one that was adventurous, surrounded by anticipation, excitement and curiosity. That was of course in the days when all of my belongings fit into a station wagon and children were something that other, older, less-wise people had... Hmmm. At this point in my life, I have one feeling about moving...it stinks. And moving from one place to another knowing that you are going to have to move again at least once before you are done, has even less appeal. When we packed up our home, the car and the moving truck back in CA just over a year ago, we knew that it would be a bumpy and interesting journey even if we weren't quite sure where it would take us. We landed in a perfectly fine rental home in Masachusetts that was two floors, (not ideal when one of your children can't really see and doesn't walk, but otherwise suitable), and we made the transition from a pioneer-inspired West Coast, (read: sunny, laid-back, independent, vegetarian, year-round routine) to the land of the Ivy League and the Red-Sox, (read: more snow, more rules, more meat, more seasons, and more traffic). Once we figured out the necessities, like doctors, schools, and grocery stores, we eventually figured out the real essentials like kettlehole ponds, blazing sunsets in the autumn, boulders as big as a house, the closest beach and the pleasures of grass that doesn't need to be irrigated. Needless to say, while the cross-country move was dramatic, it was tempered by the great neighbors, the beauty of the New England landscape and our busy schedule....time to sit back and relax a little bit, let things settle down, relax....right? Are you kidding?
It is only a matter of perspective that keeps the daily activities of life in the "tragic", "funny", "ridiculous" or "typical" column, and we have done our best to move between the them often so as not to get to comfortable with one way of coming to terms with the fact that - THINGS CHANGE. The reality is that when you have a child with significant special needs in your family, ambiguity is something of a blessing and a curse simultaneously, so you get used to it. It's the rest of your life, - the "non-special needs part", that you think you understand sooooo well and that you have sooooo much more control over that gives you the vapors when it is less than predictable. Or rather less-predictable that you think it should be.
So after several months of carrying Max up and down the stairs a few times a day, (one of the fringe benefits of having a child with mobility disabilites of any kind - and any mom will tell you this is true - is that you get arms that look better than Michelle Obama's. No flabby bits anywhere), my husband and I start having the conversation we have been trying to unsuccessfully avoid. (Living with Max, this often is the case with topics we try to avoid....we can't.) We look at each other and say, "Now what?" The answer was always obvious, and we knew we needed to move...only this time needed to be the last time and to a house that we could stay in long term that would work for our entire family both the typical members and the atypical members...
So we did. Again. It wasn't as fun as I wanted it to be and yet it wasn't as awful as I expected it to be. There have been moments over the last few months that I will most definitely relate in all their glorious detail here in another post - things like 'how to find the perfect house for five family members that each think their criteria are the most important...on a budget of course', or, 'how to keep your five year old deaf-blind son from escaping through a second floor window because he's figured out how to open it and you're too busy packing to notice', or 'how much you love that your five year old deaf-blind son that doesn't walk has learned how to navigate a staircase backwards and upside-down', or 'learning that your daughters really like to climb trees', etc.....It took a lot of time from start to finish, but then I am not moving again and I wanted to be sure we were making the best decisions we could, given that our crystal ball has been broken for a while. Max and his two sisters endured the boxes and disruption in their environment, but this time far more of their routine stayed the same, as our moving truck only needed to travel one mile from one house to the other. Finding a home that we could afford, that Max could navigate safely and that could be all that we need now and all that we hope for later was not easy but it was possible. We had the help and support of family all along the way which made all the difference and we are incredibly grateful for it. In the end change was good and now that the boxes have not been packed but rather snapped up by the box-hunters that lurk on Craig's List, it is time to get back to this blog and reflections on life in a family with Max.
|Looking very hard at a bath toy, the tub is a favorite place in the new house.|