Like any self-respecting mom of a child with special needs, I know all about Holland. I know there are supposed to be tulips and windmills -- I can't often find them, but I know I'm supposed to discover them somewhere amongst the syringes, IEP notices and medical binders that litter my child's room. I know those tulips and Rembrandts are supposed to remind me that there is still joy to be found...but where?
For me, joy is in the ordinary moments. Watching J. drink her favorite vanilla milk at Starbucks while the teenagers chatter about frappacinos and lattes. Cranking up the radio in the car while we all belt out the lyrics to a silly Broadway showtune -- how could I not grin like a fool when I hear the three of them singing "Popular", in harmony? Sitting around a campfire with her on my lap, cuddled in warm blankets, eating gooey marshmellows and melted chocolate. Listening to the sound of her brother's voice, the way he describes each scene for her, as he reads to her from his beloved Harry Potter books. Peeking in her room to find her sister patiently showing her how to put on strawberry lip gloss.
Those moments aren't about special needs or chronic illness. These moments, these ordinary joys, are the ones I store carefully and neatly in my memory.
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