It’s 6:34 a.m. and Brielle is standing over me on my side of the bed, pressing “spaghetti” on her big pink iPad. I nod and she skips back out. I search for my glasses and my phone, throw on my sweatshirt and slippers and head toward the kitchen. I close the bedroom door behind me, letting my husband and dog hopefully sleep some more.
I stumble into the kitchen where I spot my little girl and her big smile. I come over and kiss the top of her head, noticing how her beautiful dark blonde curls are super curly today.
I unlock the pantry door. We keep the pantry and refrigerator locked overnight so Bree doesn’t have a food party if she wakes while we are sleeping. I grab a box of Rotelli, so much easier than spaghetti for Bree to eat. I show her the box, asking if it’s OK. She nods and goes back to watching videos on her iPad.
I pop a coffee pod in the Keurig, then find a pot and fill it with water for Bree’s noodles. As it’s cooking and my coffee is brewing, I wander into Bree’s bathroom to grab a barrette, then return to my curl queen to get some of those curls out of her eyes.
It’s Monday, Labor Day, and Bree’s day program is closed today. As I sip my coffee I wonder how I’m going to keep her entertained all day. There’s our community pool, but she has not wanted to go in the pool once this summer. If we go, it will be super crowded. Plus, it’s not so hot today, 55 degrees now and high of 77 this afternoon. Too cold for me and Bree to swim.
There are a few parks in the area I’ve been wanting to take her to, so we’ll likely do that. Maybe we’ll hit up some stores. Is the mall open? She loves the mall.
For now, it’s still early. I sit in her room where I’ve set up my work from home office. As I start to type, Bree comes back in her room, buries herself under the covers. I wonder if she’ll go back to sleep, but that’s wishful thinking and I’m already up. At least she gives me a little time to write. I love that she comes back in the room to hang with me.
I hear her under the covers as I type, sliding her legs around on the cool sheets. I can’t help but think of how the group home workers will handle it when Brielle wakes up early and demands food and drink. I wonder if they will refuse her, and if she will throw a fit and get self-injurious. I wonder how they will deal with her then. I think of the cameras installed in the halls and other public spaces of her future group home. But then I remember that those cameras are not for me and the staff to watch every move; they are only for emergencies. I can only pray and hope they will treat her with compassion and care.
No matter what I’m writing about lately, the subject somehow always veers toward worrying about Bree in her future group home. Every day I wait for the group home operator to call or email and tell me they are ready for her to move in. I know it’s coming, I just don’t know when. And with all the anticipation, there’s so much worry.
Brielle has stopped sliding her legs around on the sheets. I wonder if she has fallen asleep. I keep typing, stopping once to put her noodles in the water. I am wide awake now, thanks to my cup of coffee and anxious mind. It’s silent, but comforting as I know Bree is only a few feet away from me, warm and safe.
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