Vesta woke to a throbbing head. Being back in the city destroyed her early-to-rise schedule and drastically increased her activity, her alcohol consumption, and her lust for life. She strolled into Jean’s living room, smelled the strong coffee, smiled. That would help.
Vesta normally drank tea and cream but today – it was no longer morning – she opted for strong black coffee. She kept up with Jean’s overscheduled academic life and went toe to toe on the drinks as well. Glorious to see some of the patched elbows again, as well as thick-lensed newcomers! Vesta studied Jean’s art collection as she savored the strong hot elixir of life.
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About AngelaLTodd
I am queen of the helicopter parents. But there are enough of us that we are becoming a social problem. Here’s my story.
Thing 1 was coming, they couldn’t stop him, it was only 24 weeks and 3 days. Someone asked: should we try to save him? Well, yes. Yes! Ten days later, a team of doctors closed the door behind us to explain brain bleeds, sepsis, meningitis. Shall we pull the plug? Well, no. No!
Babydaddy laid hands on him every day, massaged him when he was ready. For the three months he was in intensive care, and the three weeks at an intermediate hospital, I would get up in the night and pump breast milk, thinking about my baby across town. Babydaddy delivered it every morning, earning the name “milkman.” It was funny.
We had every therapy going for as long as possible: early intervention, the intermediate unit, private therapies. Terms multiplied: sensory processing dysfunction, sensory integration problems, orally defensive, auditory sensitivities, comprehensive developmental delay, cognitive function impairment, retinopathy of prematurity. He did occupational therapy, physical therapy, speech therapy, play therapy; we consulted with a neurologist, school psychologist, wraparound service provider, developmental specialist. He worked with an occupational therapist for a year and a half to tolerate teeth and hair brushing.
Not surprisingly, parenting didn’t feel natural. I learned to read to my baby watching Phyllis, our physical therapist. Voices, commentary, labeling colors, counting… she was very good! Merging professional research skills with my genetic propensity for silliness (mom was class clown, dad’s distantly related to Lucille Ball), my mothering style came together. Eventually. But I still channel Phyllis on occasion.
Thing 2 was full term. They are complete opposites; she is a sensory seeker with a wild sense of adventure and an inventive sense of fashion. Keeping them both busy and happy is an exasperating and sweet challenge. I still believe that every day can be fun and educational while reinforcing kids' boundaries. I’m on a mission to save us helicopter parents from ourselves. No more bubble wrapped kids and guilty parents. Let’s teach them coping skills. Let’s get fun.
AngelLeighDesigns 
Love this one. It’s what I like to pretend my city life is like 😉 You have such a gift for bringing your reader into a moment in just a few paragraphs.
Ok, enough of me being nice …
This is high praise from a poet, and I will relish it!
x
a
p.s. won’t tell anyone you were nice, worry not.
Greetings, I happened to stumbled upon your blog, and have been checking out your other sites. I am so impressed with what you’ve done. Being new to blogging and Etsy, you are a true inspiration to me!
Oh my! You gave me a lump in my throat! It feels like it has all come together so slowly — AngelleighDesigns will be two years old in May. !!
Thanks so much for your comment, it means a great deal!