Lacey Kazama Shimabukuro doesn’t have any big plans for Mother’s Day. And she likes it that way.

A 34-year-old Newtown mother of two active young boys with skinned knees and dirty socks, she just wants a simple, quiet evening with her family — because her life is anything but.

Four years ago an ear infection in her youngest son, Jax, changed their lives.

He wasn’t yet a year old, and as Shimabukuro was parking at his pediatrician’s office in Aiea, Jax began flailing in his car seat and foaming at the mouth. Shimabukuro panicked. She grabbed the boy, left the car doors open and ran upstairs to the doctor’s office.

Her infant son had suffered a seizure that lasted for two frightening minutes.

"I remember feeling frantic with a million thoughts," said Shimabukuro. "I thought, ‘Do I move him? Do I call an ambulance? Do I call the doctor down from the office?’ I had never seen a seizure before, in person or on TV. But I somehow had a feeling that’s what it was."

She started doing research and learned about epilepsy, a chronic disorder characterized by unprovoked seizures. It’s the fourth most common neurological disorder, affecting 65 million people worldwide — more than the number of people with autism spectrum disorder, cerebral palsy, multiple sclerosis or Parkinson’s disease combined. And, she learned, new cases of epilepsy are most common in young children, especially during their first year of life, with 200,000 new cases diagnosed annually.

There’s no cure, but there are ways to control it, most often with medication and lifestyle changes. But Jax wasn’t immediately diagnosed with epilepsy. While tested for a variety of ailments, he was discharged from the hospital with only a cold and an ear infection. It was the infection that triggered a febrile seizure, a convulsion brought on by a spiking fever. Although common, fewer than 5 percent of children who experience febrile seizures go on to develop epilepsy.

Shimabukuro read that it would take two unprovoked seizures to indicate her son had epilepsy. So she waited and watched, recording everything in a log she carried with her.

It didn’t take long for Jax to suffer another seizure. Just a few days later, he had a full-body seizure, his muscles stiffening, his arms and legs convulsing rhythmically. It was Jax’s first unprovoked seizure.

He had a second one later that day.

"By then I knew," said Shimabukuro.

There are a lot of unknowns about epilepsy. The causes of seizures can range from traumatic head injury to stroke and abnormal brain development. Some children even outgrow them, never suffering from seizures again. Others control it with medication. But for some the uncontrolled seizures will last a lifetime.

Their severity can range from full-body convulsions to lapses in awareness and drooping eyelids.

"Epilepsy is different for everyone," said Shimabukuro. "And it’s so unpredictable."

Jax once suffered 13 seizures in a 12-hour period due to epilepsy. He was just 17 months old.

FOR THE first few months after his initial seizures, Shimabukuro wouldn’t leave her son’s side, worried about him suffering from a seizure for too long or suddenly falling and hitting his head.

"I’d walk to the kitchen to put away dishes, and when I’d come back he’d be on the floor," she said.

She joined a monthly support group and reached out to a group of girlfriends, emailing them about Jax’s diagnosis. She said she was surprised by a response from a friend she’s known since intermediate school: Her husband had epilepsy, too.

"How did I not know about this?" Shimabukuro asked her friend, shocked.

"It doesn’t come up in conversation," she replied.

Shimabukuro wants epilepsy to be part of more conversations. She serves as president of the Epilepsy Foundation of Hawai‘i — a volunteer position — and advocates for families in tougher situations than hers: people such as her friend Jari Sugano, whose 6-year-old daughter, MJ, has Dravet syndrome, a rare catastrophic form of epilepsy that causes the child to have thousands of seizures daily. The seizures are so severe, in fact, that marijuana is one of the only treatments that has helped her.

"There are kids who are in wheelchairs and need care all the time," said Shimabukuro. "We’re not there. We do live a very normal life — but there are days when it’s crazy."

While Jax’s medical condition has been an adjustment for the family, Shimabukuro considers herself exceptionally lucky. She works for her family’s business, Kazama Enterprises, which allows her to keep a flexible schedule. Her older son, Ty, 8, helps out, too, always keeping tabs on his brother. And her husband, Gavin, works an earlier shift at HMSA so he can coach his sons’ soccer and baseball teams.

Jax’s epilepsy is being controlled by two different medications now. He still gets seizures sometimes — when he gets sick or hyperventilates from crying — but otherwise, he’s able to do everything his older brother does.

He’s an active, charismatic 5-year-old with the usual assortment of childhood bruises and scrapes — none of them from seizures.

"He’s the toughest little boy I know," said Shimabukuro. "I know what to do now, so it’s not scary. But it’s a letdown because they are still happening."

She said the hardship has taught her son an important life lesson: to be compassionate toward others.

"During a baseball game, one of the kids was sad, and I saw Jax sitting next to him, rubbing his back while he cried," said Shimabukuro. "I was just so proud of him."