I have Multiple Sclerosis, a degenerative disease that strips my nerves of their myelin sheath and my life of the kind of fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants get-up-and-go that used to define me. I was diagnosed more than seven years ago now. I was living in the London at the time with the love of my life. Since then I moved to Canada, then back to my native Southern California, I married my aforementioned love and I gave birth to the coolest baby ever.
Not bad for a gimp.
Like I think I heard them say on some hideous reality show, I can(still) do what everyone else does, I just do it slightly differently.
Like this morning, for example. My baby, angry from the molars growing in his mouth, awoke at 7 30. I nursed him, ate my Mini-Wheats while giving him some Joe’s O’s(Cheerios for Trader Joe’s lovers), took a shower then had Hubs(who works from home) help us downstairs to the car.
Boy and I then met my dad for coffee. Dad moved Boy from the car seat to his stroller. I can do that, but even my 70 year old dad can get it done quicker than me.
We do all the same stuff in reverse, ending up planted in our living room where I’m left to look after Boy until Hubs finishing work – usually around 7 pm.
Depending on how pissed off my disease is on any particular day, I find keeping up with Boy fluctuates. I loved when he started crawling and I could trick him into coming to me instead of wobbly picking Boy up and killing my back in the process. There are days when I’m too tired to move the chairs that form our baby barricade to the table for lunch time, so I feed him free-range style. It’s messy, but nothing a ton of tea towels and some slipcovers can’t handle.
We have to deal with all the normal stuff of life a bit differently, but the final product remains pretty much the same.
Take the smash cake at Boy's 1st birthday party, the end result of which can be seen above. Good times.
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