That was a week, that was.

And I am mighty pleased that it is over.
A lot happened.
A lot was said.
A lot was done.
A lot was achieved.
And because I can write that last bit....everything else was not wasted. That's what life is all about, unfortunately.

I am feeling like a washed out dish rag. Weary isn't anywhere near a good enough word, but it'll do. You get it.
The upshot is, H and I both know that this is the time to encourage these big birds out of this nest.
In the years we have been married we have faced an onslaught of stressful situations that as parents, we were obliged to face and deal with and solve.
Now though, we can stand back and say, we did what we should do and now, it is our duty to help Jordan and Sophie take the next step in growing up and look forward to spending much time with these little boys.
Sophie came home today. She is tired, subdued and sad. She is also afraid because what she faces now is the unknown, my job is to make that exciting and good. She has been to gramma's, gramma has sold her house and has found a beautiful little house in a village nearby. This means that Sophie has been able to choose some furniture that can be hers for when she finds a houseshare, or a little flat.
Sophie has many good points and one of those is that she is very good with her money , she always pays her debts first and then does as she pleases with the remainder...now is the time for her to learn that real life usually leaves you with not much left over!
I spoke to her tonight and think I have convinced her to come with me on monday, speak to the doctor and insist on testing, I want to see if there is still epilepsy active there, this is all so reminiscent of when she was little and would go from sitting reading a book to suddenly smashing the boys in the face, or jumping out of a window.
She has never had any kind of control over her behavior, this is not a brat thing, nothing to do with discipline or lack thereof. This is almost like being possessed, nothing stops her when she is in full flow, when she is 'spent' it is like watching a rag doll. She can't remember what has happened.
She has run into main roads ( to "see what happens when a car hits her") she has climbed out of windows, she smashed a complete toilet at school, flooding the whole school.
She has hit people, said the most outrageous things at the most inopportune times. She has run away ( aged 12, in the night, in L.A) The list goes on.
All this since she was 5. I often think she must feel endlessly exhausted. I know I do, even when things are pretty good, it isn't ..because we are all holding our breath waiting for the next battle to begin. That's no life for a young girl ( or her mother!!) is it?

I really believe that there must be a medical reason for it. When she was 5, until she was 10 she was registered disabled because of her epilepsy and behavioural problems. We moved a year after she had her last seizure, she was weaned off her medication and we moved to the U.S. She has been pretty much without any follow ups or check ups since we left for America.
I so hope she comes with me on monday and we can insist on some kind of checkup, testing, something.

I won't even go into the private ( ooooh don't you wish I would go into that one??) shenanigans and life altering decisions H and I have agreed upon during all this. It has been a momentous week indeed and one that we mustn't forget, it has to be for good reason, or it will just have been horrible for horridness' sake. Can't have that, can we?

I took Eli to dancing class today, seeing that skinny little bum in his leggings, ankles socks and tap shoes, a grin as wide as his face and that enormous enthusiasm ...well even the darkest mood would have to be lightened, wouldn't it? He cried all the way there.
" I doe watt too doe a danthin' clath, I doe watt too......" I jollied him along and just as we got there, he peed in his jeans...."I doe watt to doe a danthin' ..Theff thed ith for dirlies, I not a dirlie am I? I a boy!"
Mrs dancing class teacher told him that actually, boys are always the very best tap dancers and she has a very big boy who is a dancer, ptttttthhhhh to silly big brothers who say dancing is for girls.
Little face lit up, tap shoes on and grin back in place, off he went for a blissful 45 minutes of tapping and skipping, in leggings with no underwear on, slightly piddly socks and a zest for life. I looked through the door at the end of class, as they had the chat before the bow, he had both hands down his leggings, showing his bum crack. Then, just like a true entertainer, he took his bow.
He does it with such a flourish, his head almost touched the floor. I adore him.
We walked home, with him in his leggings ( that are calf length and don't tell him, but they are girlies ones!!) black socks and his outdoor tan leather shoes, he looked like a very poor person's child, but he skipped, oblivious to the fact that, as adorable as he is, I was walking far enough behind that the general public wouldn't be sure I was his mother. I adore him but I can definately see when he looks dreadful. I should have taken a picture but I was too relieved to be inside and able to change him into nice child clothes. Actually, I'll be honest, we just took his leggings off, put a pullup on and had a glorious 3 hour nap.
Life was better today.