Isla is my little, best friend. I remember that when it was just her and me together all day while Brett was at work and before Isaiah was born. We were partners. She went with me almost everywhere, exceptions being when I went to work. It was (almost) always great fun to take her shopping, visiting teaching, duck watching, puddle jumping. It was a little less fun to never be able to go to the bathroom or take a shower alone, but it was ok. There were times that Brett would be home and would offer to watch her while I ran an errand. I always acted like I really wanted to just be able to go to the grocery store by myself, but when I actually did I felt sort of lonely (I also felt relieved that I could get the job done quickly without having to entertain her, but mostly lonely).
Now that we have Isaiah around, she is now my little helper friend. She "goo-goo-gah-gahs" him when he is crying, she finds him things to play with, and she puts little, choke-able items far away from his reach. She is really quiet when it is time to go to bed so as not to wake him. Today during their bath she even grabbed the tabo and started bucketing water on him like I usually do. She told me that she was being a little mommy.
Actually that takes me to my next point. We are really lucky that she can tell us when something isn't right with her. When she has a stomachache, she just tells us. We don't have to guess at what part of her is hurting. A few months ago she was sitting at the dining table eating yogurt when suddenly she cried out, gripped the edge of the table and said, "I'm falling, I'm falling!" She was, in fact, not falling. She was sitting on her heels, legs curled under her, on the exact middle of the bench. I thought she was being silly at first, but she had real fear in her eyes. I went to give her a hug and I could feel that every muscle in her body was taut. Even her little toes were clenched. She told me she was going to fall and that "the walls were spinning." The episode passed as quickly as it came. I thought it was very odd, but I didn't take her in or call the advice nurse. It happened again a few weeks later as she was in the bathtub, and then again this morning while she was eating breakfast with Brett. Again she was eating, again she was really scared and extremely dizzy, and this time Brett noticed nystagmus. Good for him for checking her eyes. And good for him for calling the advice nurse, like I should have done months ago. They told him she needed to be seen and got us an appointment a few hours later. I always tell Brett how much I dislike having to be pregnant and deliver babies through the Kaiser system, but for everything else they seem pretty great (plus delivering there wasn't even as bad as I thought it would be). Anyway, I got to take her while Brett stayed home with Isaiah. It was just me and my little best friend, just like old times. The doc - Deramerian was his name, I have to remember that - was wonderful with her and was kind to me. He explained things well. I think we may have to trade our current primary pediatrician for him. Anyhow did a short exam but then referred Isla to a ped neurologist. We will see what happens, neuro exam, EEG, MRI? Anyway, when we got to the clinic I wasn't terribly worried about the episodes, just because she is perfectly normal before and after and there isn't anything else wrong with her. Well Dr. Deramerian explained to me all these things, and then at the end, because he is so kind, said sincerely "I know it can be very scary but we will find out what is wrong." Well I wasn't scared until he said that. So now here I am, blogging as the babies are asleep and while Brett is over at the Mallards' babysitting Esri, because I am a little worried about my little best friend. It is probably nothing awful, but I am here, worrying about it, thinking about all the times in her short life I have been angry with her, yelled at her, put her in time out (or worse) out of frustration instead of the desire to teach her something. I am thinking about all the times - and this is daily, at least a few times a week - that I lose my temper and don't treat my little best friend how she deserves to be treated. She is a perfect, innocent little soul, closer to the Spirit than anyone in our home (I guess Isaiah is pretty close but I discount him because he is a little, non-talking squirt), so smart and kind. I love her so much, but sometimes I look back on the past few hours or days and I am ashamed that my actions don't always correspond with that love. As usual, I'm here and all I can do is be better tomorrow. I'm glad that kids are so resilient and that they forgive so easily. So, I'm sorry my little, best friend, that I'm not always a cheerful Mommy, please forgive me, and watch me do better tomorrow.
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