Looking up

Last night, at Rosie’s, Aerin got her foot caught in her chair.

“Hep me! Hep me! My foo! Hep my foo tuck!”

I immediately unhooked her foot where she’d gotten it wedged between the bars, and she went back to eating.

“She told us!” I said to Todd. “She didn’t scream. She didn’t come unglued. She TOLD us!”

This is a huge turning point. Only a few weeks ago, getting her foot caught would have escalated into an all-out screaming fit faster than we could figure out what was wrong. When the girl is happy, everyone in the room knows; she is LOUD in her happiness. When she is hurt or angry, everyone within a five-block radius hears about it.

Things have been difficult with Aerin, that’s no secret. Some days it seems like we butt heads every five minutes, and the constant conflict has been so incredibly draining. Her temper, her stubbornness, and her sheer volatility are more than a match for me, and I admit I am not the best mother for a child like her. She needs someone with an even temper, the patience of a saint, considerable free time, and maybe more than a touch of hearing loss, NONE OF WHICH I HAVE. (Although give her another few months, and she’ll take care of the hearing loss.)

Last night, when she told us, clearly, what was wrong and what she needed, it was like the sun peeking out after months of storms. “Oh my god,” I thought, “we might have an actual human being here.” Suddenly, I feel like we might make it. It’s not over, these hard times, but maybe, just maybe, it’s about to get a little better.