Tuesday, December 14, 2010

and a partridge in a pear tree

So last night, like every night recently, Sophie had a huge seizure at the dinner table. Right before, the boys and I had off-handedly said that we would pray that she wouldn't. But she did, and while I held her and comforted her and then hauled her off to her bedroom to rest, the boys silently finished their dinner. When I came back to the kitchen to finish my own, we were all silent and that's when I started to cry, just a little bit, but enough so that both boys jumped out of their chairs and we all stood together in a hug. The silence, though, prompted me to start talking and the conversation that ensued was a beautiful and near-hysterical one. Hysterically funny, that is -- hysterically absurd -- hysterically profound.

Me: So, what do you think about the fact that we prayed Sophie wouldn't have a seizure and she did?

Henry: I don't know.

Oliver: God doesn't care.

Me: I can see why you'd feel that way. Why do you think God doesn't care?

Oliver: Well, it's like this. God is up there, looking down, and his angels keep coming around to tell him about people's problems. God's not always listening because it's impossible to listen to everyone.

Me: I think God is more like a spirit in everyone and everything. So that means he can't really listen or do anything but he can be with us, with Sophie when we're sad and suffering. I think that spirit is always there and it's love.

Henry (rolling his eyes): Can I go now?

Oliver (to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas"): ... and my buuuuuutttttt looks like a ham.


  1. I get a lot of eye rolling too.

  2. Hee, hee! They're so used to this...it's sort of weird and sort of sad too. I wonder about my Eldest in all of this.

  3. "...we were all silent and that's when I started to cry, just a little bit, but enough so that both boys jumped out of their chairs and we all stood together in a hug."

    Reading that...made me feel, yet so touched that you all were there for each other. Our children are such blessings. So sorry that Sophie had this happen as you all had such good intentions of thoughts.

    I question God too.

  4. I think your explanation was perfect. They will remember.
    (My butt looks like a ham?)

  5. Oh that's funny. Not the hard part, the end. The boys are so sweet not to contradict you directly.

    Your boys are connected to real life, far beyond their ages. They see and reason and understand; they know the love you have for each other is real, you and they and Sophie and The Husband are the spirit of God.

    You're an awesome Mom.

  6. that's really cool.
    I think some one else would have missed about every single opportunity there - but you just grabbed them up. From letting your tears show to enjoying much better lyrics to that stupid song. I want to hear the rest of the song now :)

  7. "I think that spirit is always there and it's love." Holy shit. Yes. I concur!

  8. poignant.

    I love your family.

  9. If I dare to have another kid, you and your boys will be at least partially responsible.

  10. screw the medical industry, you should be a preacher.

    Your kids are just bright and intelligent

    and creative and funny

  11. Love the ham butt. Perfect ending to a serious conversation.

  12. Does Oliver's shirt say "smooth like butter"? Love it.

  13. Although not a mondegreen it will go into my collection, and I am with Oliver, it is impossible to listen to everybody.

    Ham butts notwithstanding.

    Totally Italian WV: Cemigni, whatever that means.

  14. My youngest would have enthusiastically engaged in the discussion while my eldest would have rolled her eyes and called us "woo woo." I applaud you for trying (and crying). I'll be thinking of you and hoping Sophie doesn't suffer tonight.

  15. I don't know how to make sense of it either. Hugs.

  16. You hugged and talked. The best thing. And then Oliver provided some comic relief. Even better. Sometimes I feel like Henry ( I don't know) and sometimes I feel like Oliver (God doesn't care) and sometimes I feel like you (all love is from God.) But mostly I believe that my feelings change depending on the pain level around here, and my faith is just faith. Unexplainable, but real.

    Thank you so very much for your kind words and empathy for my friend's loss. I know she will read it and find comfort in that empathy.

  17. Humor. It never fails. And it shows what kind of mother you are - that your beautiful sons feel comfortable expressing themselves.

    Have you read "Tinkers" yet? One of the main characters suffers epilepsy. It is a gem of a book. And not too long to boot.

  18. I've been reading your blog for quite a while and have seen you and the boys and the husband and the girl around for quite a number of years and..... It's really hard to make sense of what the universe hands us at any given time, even for a lifetime sometimes, but this post made me feel like there is something really right about your family and all the shit you go through and the struggles and the near impossible task of dealing with it all that you and your family face. That moment after you came back to the table kind of makes it all really really special (for this reader anyway) in a way that makes the whole thing (what the universe has handed you) make sense in some strange sort of surreal way.
    BTW - At least consider taking a look at your body of blog posts and explore the "possibility" of editing them into some kind of book. For special needs parents, of just for parents, or just for people. Thanks again and happy holidays!

  19. oh jeeze, this made me cry and laugh and love you all.

  20. so sweet, so sad, and so very funny.

    My son said something to me the other day that made me realize that despite my worry and attempts to make everything "fine" I really don't know what it was like to grow up with a sister like Maggie. It was profound, and sweet and a little bit sad too, But he didn't have the great line about his ham butt at the end.



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