Leta was home for a week after graduating 8th grade at Camphill. And I was a little out of practice taking care of her 24/7. My response times were slow, my reflexes less alert. Leta requires ninja-like speed to stay one step ahead of her as she dives into the cupboard for soup, or opens the refrigerator at 7am for a shot of ketchup, or throws my contact cases in the shower before I’ve even gotten out of bed. When faced with a tough situation people usually prepare mentally by adopting either the sprint or the marathon response to getting through their hardship. Unfortunately, caring for Leta, is both a sprint and a marathon for as many hours of the day that Leta is awake. Some days, depending on her mood, can be so hard that I just want to burst into tears. When Leta wakes up at 5am each morning, she is in full go-mode. I, in my pre-caffeniated fog, am usually not ready for her bursts of energy. Leta turns the TV on full blast, wanders into the bathroom and turns on the scalding hot shower, strips her clothes off, decides to take her morning BM, but often doesn’t quite make it to the toilet, sometimes breaks a glass in her attempt to drink some water out of the sink, and then tracks with her feet the BM that is on the floor. Now we are only at 5:15am and faced with the daunting challenge of the long day ahead. By 6am, Leta is given her morning dose of ADHD medication, which turns her go-button down a few decibels. But on a scale of 1-10, Leta’s hyperactivity is at still an 8, compared to my other kids being at a 2 or 3.

Jack was up early this week, starting his summer intership at the genetics lab at CHOP. And Leta and I lovingly made him a big breakfast for his first day. We cooked sausage, a ham and onion omelet, and a toasted bagel with cream cheese. We laid it out for Jack on the dining room table, and Leta helped me pour him a large cup of orange juice. Jack sat down, looking dapper in his chinos and white shirt; his CHOP ID strung proudly around his neck. And then I made the mistake of telling Leta that it was time to go. We were headed to the gym. And Leta threw her first fit of the day. In a split-second, she yanked off her shoe and flung it across the room. It hit Jack’s glass of juice, and like dominoes the juice spilled into the plate of eggs, which then ran down the table into Jack’s lap. Breakfast ruined. Jack’s clothes wet and stained. And Jack pissed, storming from the table to go upstairs to change. Leta and I exited for the gym texting Jack an apology on our way. “Sorry sweetie. I hope you have a great first day. Remember that leta’s chaos can be funny with the right mindset. She does have great aim.” And Jack’s response by text: ” Her aim is always TOO good.” This is a truth that Jack and his other sisters have known their entire lives. Things get ruined and destroyed in Leta world. The trick is deciding to laugh and not cry about it.

Our morning routine revs up at around 7am when Leta and I finally hit the gym. Urban Athlete is our spot. I am so appreciative that the owner, Pamela, allows Leta to just hang out among all the gym rats and heavy circuit training equipment. Kettlebells, weights, ropes and balls. Leta has trained on all of them, Leta style of course. (see Leta’s Urban athlete video on this blog) Leta is a fixture at the gym, and I am grateful that everyone that works out when we are there are so forgiving of her antics. Leta likes to drink out of other people’s cups, she likes to talk and mostly gesture to people earnestly while they are doing a difficult plank, sometimes she likes to even sit on someone’s back while they are planking or doing a wall sit. Today she leaned on one kind woman who was sweating it out on the erg and Leta helped her count to 4. Leta also likes to tell people with her hand gestures that they are “done” or that they need a shower. This week my highlight was Bob, another regular at the gym, who coined a phrase for Leta. Leta likes to give people high-fives or hit them with an urban bump. We had been trying to teach her the firecracker bump; you bump and then release your hands in a spray and say “AHHHH!” But Leta could never get this right. She had her own version that Bob coined “The Butterfly Bump” instead. Leta bumps, then gestures her hand back with a wave, and then blows a kiss at the end toward her fellow bumpee. It stuck, and as of this week, is her signature greeting to everyone she meets.

After the gym, we get our Highpoint Coffee. Mine,the triple-shot latte, Leta the everything bagel. She has taken to trying to go behind the counter these days and serve herself. This week we decided to sit down for morning crepes. But after eating one, Leta wanted a second and when I denied her, she not only flipped the table, she threw her knife and fork across the room. Luckilly, no one was hurt. And many came to the rescue, righting the table, picking up the broken dishes and returning one lone Kroc that was flung across the floor as well. In a situation like this, our best strategy is to just exit quickly. The collateral damage is left behind us.

The trick to keeping Leta happy is to keep her busy. So this week by noon, I would take her to an indoor waterpark at the Plymouth Meeting Rec Center. One section is no more than 3 feet deep so it is perfect for Leta to have complete autonomy in the water. She loves to run under the fountains or just lie flat and crawl along the shallow section near the edge. She caught the eye of a few cute little girls and taught them her butterfly bump. And they would keep coming back to show their friends this greeting. I think by the end of the summer, the butterfly bump will have spread nationwide thanks to Leta. Wouldn’t the world be a happy place if it did actually catch on. Anyway, the water park was a lifesaver, not only because we are in the middle of a heat wave but because it wears Leta out and she is exhausted after a few hours of splashing around. One day, while changing out of our wet bathing suits, a large camp group was also leaving. There must have been 30 little girls all about Leta’s size lined up in the ladies room. In a blink of an eye, as I was changing, Leta disappeared and apparently had lined up with the other girls and marched out the door, the counselor in charge, taking a head count and including Leta as one of her own. I thought Leta had run to the shower so I went searching in that direction, but by the time I had figured it out, she was practically out the Rec center door, about to get on the camps big yellow bus. Leta thought my panic was hysterical.

Some afternoons we try to run errands. This time of day is always risky to be out in public with Leta. Her hyperactivity medication has worn off and she is usually tired and hungry. A bad combination for most kids. One day I needed to find a pair of shorts for Ava, so we headed to Target. I was hoping for a quick in and out. We couldn’t find the shorts and Leta wanted soup, so as we wheeled the shopping cart out into the parking lot, Leta threw a monster tantrum. She stripped her clothes off, tossing her wet pull up into the middle of the parking lot, her shoes in another direction, and there she stood butt-naked. Ava was mortified and hid in the car. I quickly grabbed Leta’s things and threw her into the car. I have stopped wondering what people are thinking when they see our public spectacle. I am too busy trying to contain the situation.

Evenings are the hardest with Leta. So my ninja training must kick in at its best by 6p, when I have to cook dinner while Leta is either trying to reprogram my computer, paint the dogs with a green sharpie pen, or worse, help me cook dinner by pulling everything out of the fridge and turning all the burners of the stove on. It is a three-ring circus at this hour.

Eventually, after dinner and a bath, Leta does wind down. And she usually falls asleep by 8 or 8:30p. And I take a deep breath and read for a few minutes on my Kindle. This week I was reading Khaled Hosseini’s latest novel, “And The Mountains Echoed.” And a passage jumped out at me because it resonated with my week:

“They say, find a purpose in your life and live it. But sometimes, it is only after you have lived that you recognize your life had a purpose, and likely one you never had in mind.”

16 years into my journey with Leta, I am recognizing that I am not going to be a successfull television producer, or cure cancer, or perform at Carnegie Hall. Leta is my vocation. Leta is my unexpected purpose. And even on the days I want to just break down and cry, I now accept that I am living the life I am supposed to.