The Epiphany of August

I've suddenly reached a strange, tranquil state of zen based on something so simple that it's almost unremarkable. Here it comes. Ready?

There's no sense in getting upset over my kids' limitations and disabilities. They are what they are. There's not much I can do to change that, but it's my job to keep trying to help them learn to get on with their lives.

See? It's a small but significant step over the line back into sanity. Oh sure, I can weep at every speech evaluation, burst into tears when The Boy hits someone at play group, blame myself for everything that's gone wrong, and be mortified when my kids stand out as weirdos. But where does that get me?

On the other hand, if I can detach myself from the self-pity and regret, I have the power to help them become who they can become.