We are cleaning and purging some closets at our house. I found the tote bag that we used to put all the stuff we received at the hospital when Brooke was diagnosed. Pamphlets, hats, magnets, business cards, books, papers, "tips and hints", guides. It's been in the closet for almost 2 years.
(No it hasn't. It spent a few weeks on our dinning room table. Then it moved to the closet.)
The prescriptions and daily supplies we needed sat on a corner of our kitchen counter for about a month. It took that long for me to come to terms with the fact that this stuff is never going away.
Then I cleaned out a drawer in our kitchen and a shelf in our pantry to store all our stuff. And then I decided that I would gladly deal with all the extra stuff for 200 years if it meant keeping Brooke healthy and thriving.
Because, now? Two years later? Brooke is a little more in charge, and I am a little less in charge.
And this? This is how she rolls.
She must be her father's child.