Yesterday I read a post about parenting being like climbing Mt. Everest. I wholeheartedly agree with the writer & will link it here if I can ever get my iPhone to work or to a real computer. When this writer describes Everest, she refers to the everyday work, joys & challenges of parenting a child born into this world with the equipment needed to complete the climb along with her- for lack of a better word: parenting of the “typical” kid.
Parenting my children is more like climbing Olympus Mons. You don’t know what that is? You can’t relate to a person who climbs Olympus Mons versus Everest like everyone else? Story of my life- story of OUR lives. Add to that the lack of equipment available to manage the climb we’re attempting and you have some glimpse of what we do each day.
Today, nay the last 3 days, -aw, hell, the last 5+ years- the climb of Olympus Mons has again been complicated by the loss of provisions. Which provisions? The joy, the desire, the ABILITY to eat food, or drink calories, in a quantity that is both life-sustaining & growth-promoting. We sit on the ridge of the Karzok crater, waiting for a sip to be taken, a bite to be eaten. A storm is gathering on the horizon & we need to make the climb to the outcrop for shelter and he continues to refuse to eat- to ingest the energy source needed to help him make the climb.
Every day, every meal, I don my armor to fight the battle of feeding my preemie who hates to eat. My armor is dry & cracked, covered in Martian dust. I look up the hillside, wondering how much further I can climb while carrying them all. I put the cup to his lips & pour, hoping enough is ingested as I watch the fury cross the valley, threatening to overtake us before breakfast is done.