Wild Horses

Man. I tell you what. This parenting two thing is a lot harder than it looks, and it looks hard.

With one, you can wrap your brain around the fact that your life is no longer yours. Imagine sitting in the little nest of your life, and then suddenly getting jerked out of that nest because your arm is tied to a stampeding horse. It's a little rough being drug behind this horse by your arm, but you love the beautiful horse so much, you settle in and try to make yourself as comfortable as possible for the ride.

Now, in my naivety, I thought I would add another horse to my horse bracelet so the first horse would have someone to play with. After all, if you're already being drug, why not just go a little faster? Only it doesn't work that way. The second horse is tethered to your OTHER arm, and you're left praying that they run in the same direction once in a while. Now imagine that both horses are crying for NO APPARENT REASON. It's kinda like that.

I remember a motivational assembly I attended in high school where a man with no arms came to show us how he could play "Wipe Out" on the drums with his feet. He could even drive without adaptive equipment, brush his teeth, and put on his own sweatpants. I wonder how clean his house is? Of course, he's probably not playing with Legos. He was good, but not that good.

He probably doesn't need to eat 8 times a day or make things with Popsicle sticks and glitter or color on his face with permanent marker either.