I tell myself nah, it's the meds this time. Finally, you've got her med cocktail mixed right and I watch the days go by. One, two, three... and I hold my breath hoping, praying, squeezing my eyes shut tight and crossing my fingers and
and she rages by day four.
this unending cycle of 15 days to full escalation with three days off is getting wearisome. Predictable but wearisome. She's been cycling like this for more than two years regardless of the med cocktail.
And oh, the RADsing she throws in there to make it all so much more interesting. But for a brief while there today she looked pretty with the double french braid she asked me to do.
That probably tipped the scales, eh?
I look at her and pinch myself so I remember she's chronologically 11 years old, not 4. It's hard some days to accept that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I will always have a daughter that is a perpetual child. As much as I yearn for an intelligent, interesting conversation with Sissy while we putz about the kitchen doing mother/daughter type things, it will always be a dream.
Some people daydream about the perfect house, job, wedding, soulmate, vacation, or lifestyle. I daydream that my daughter will behave according to her calendar age.
and that her three day rage hiatus will one day turn into a thirty year hiatus.