In the grand scheme of life, T.Puzzle is doing pretty good after his tonsillectomy. The hardest part has been getting him to take his pain meds. Somehow convincing a very opinionated 5-year-old that orally ingesting pain relievers down the very vessel that has been injured, is most often a losing battle. Yesterday, as he complained of a hurting throat, I brought him some Tylenol. We were at an instant stand-off that ultimately led to him being sent to his room. The tantrum that followed was of epic proportions. Eventually, he calmed himself enough and was able to take the medicine. About thirty minutes later he sat at the table and ate some yogurt.
“How’s your throat feeling?” I asked.
“It feels good now but it really hurts when I scream and cry,” he replied as he lapped up another spoonful of yogurt.
T.Puzzle and Full Speed getting ready for a surrey bike ride when we lived near Milwaukee a few years ago.
Agreeing to disagree on a variety of issues is a cornerstone of marriage. There are compromises on things big and small. As long as both involved feel they ‘win’ at least some of the time, life can run fairly smoothly. It’s when it comes to the bigger ticket items that you both have to be completely on the same page. For instance, the number of kids you plan to bring into the world, if any at all for that matter, must be as close as possible. This number can change and shift as unforeseen circumstance arrive. Initially, Mad Dog and I had talked about having a big family. As pregnancy turned out to be one of my least favorite states of being and as Full Speed and T.Puzzle evolved into their strong-willed, glorious selves, I was quickly convinced two kids was more than enough. Recently, Mad Dog has been pondering the possible expansion of our brood. I think I could be open to this notion down the road, say when I’m about 90 years old and don’t remember who or where I am. I’m sorry, but my boys have worn me out. I believe I am only beginning to safely tread the waters of motherhood and even so, I still feel regularly challenged beyond my normal capacity.
Fortunately for me, two recent events have diminished Mad Dog’s inkling for family expansion. First, we had lunch with friends that we hadn’t seen in a very long time and finally met their two, extremely adorable boys. We met at a restaurant and I was flooded with memories as their very active nearly three year-old motored about the perimeter of the table and their nine month old baby insisted he needed to be held during the entire meal (to be honest, if I was that cute, I would insist on it, too). As we talked with our friends, the little conversation we could manage over the normal hustle and bustle of raising small children, the more I appreciated my spirited boys who at least are able to independently eat a meal. Mad Dog appreciated this, too. This was a relief to me.
The second event was T.Puzzle’s recent surgery (he is doing fantastic by the way). In the first days post-surgery, I had given him pain meds throughout the day and night at regular intervals. I don’t do well with sleep deprivation (putting it mildly). This is why the newborn phase was and never will be, my shining moment in motherhood. Somehow, Mad Dog does not remember this. He claims to only remember the good. Seeing my cranky face at the end of this week managed to bring it all back into focus. Who knew being cranky could work so much in my favor?
I think I dodged a bullet. At least, I sure hope I did.
At the beginning of summer it was determined that T.Puzzle’s oversized tonsils needed to be removed. I certainly dreaded the impending surgery and almost completely lost my mind the night before it. This was nicely countered by Mad Dog’s calm optimism. Calm and optimistic were two emotions I found very difficult to conjure when my baby was about to go under the knife. What made the whole situation worse was T.Puzzle’s joy leading up to his procedure. He glowed in the attention we lavished on him. He was giddy because he was getting special gifts, his favorite foods and he got to sleep in a tent in our bedroom. He was so joyful on the day of surgery he leapt from his tent and exclaimed, “Yay! I can’t wait to see the doctor. This is going to be so cool!” Clearly he associates doctor visits with special time with one or both parents usually followed by lunch involving happy and a meal. The more exuberant he became, the more nauseous I felt. It was like looking at an innocent puppy knowing you are hours away from placing him in a den of ravenous lions.
T.Puzzle’s joy continued as we allowed unlimited iPad game time as we waited in the ambulatory holding area. He didn’t even flinch that it was well past noon and he was not allowed food or drink. He became immersed in his games and was only annoyed when the blood pressure cuff interfered with his gaming strategies. He was a trooper as they took him away for the procedure and gave us a carefree wave goodbye. All I kept thinking was ‘farewell, my sweet little puppy!’
When it was over, we heard him well before we could see him. To say he was angry is an understatement. When he was wheeled back to us, he was a screaming ball of fury. Limbs were flying, tears were flowing and he yelled repeatedly “I WANT TO GO HOME!” He was an innocent no longer. With each quiet murmur of comfort I offered him, he answered with a louder, angrier cry. This is the point when my head really began to hurt.
Mad Dog swooped in and said to T.Puzzle, “If you stop crying, you can play games on the iPad again.”
Instant serenity.
He calmed, he sighed and he gamed on.
Yes, I have to come to terms with the fact that I have been rendered obsolete by technology.
As long as I got my patient home in peace, I’ll take it. And, somehow, I don’t imagine an iPad will be able to administer round the clock pain meds with a loving touch for the next few days. Then again, there might be an app for that.
T.Puzzle happily waiting for surgeryT.Puzzle post-op. Hard to tell the difference, isn’t it?
This summer is going by in a flash. It’s all swim lessons, soccer, traveling to see family and using every last ounce of energy to keep up with my boys.
While watching a recent soccer game, a Mom who also has two boys on our team commented on how parenting boys is so much fun. She is completely right. Initially, I thought I would be better suited to parent girls. Who knew I would love to watch my boys tear up a soccer field? I certainly didn’t.
Could you imagine if I had been given the ability to create the personality of my kids? They’d have been quiet, easy-going and calm. Their nicknames could have been Zero Speed and No Puzzle (most boring blog ever!).
I’m so glad it was out of my hands. Thankfully, even though they challenge me in many ways, they are exactly who I was meant to have.
It is time for a break. Most of my energy, ok, ALL of my energy is going towards keeping up with my boys. I will return to my twice-weekly posts in a couple of weeks. I’m going to use this blog-break to regroup and focus more on fun. I am learning some great lessons this summer. When it comes to teaching my kids anything, outsourcing is key. My boys have become fish in a matter of days. All it took was Mom staying way, far out of the pool (almost in another county), and a fantastic swim instructor. I wish all my parenting dilemmas could be so easily outsourced. I’ve also realized spending time with your kids can alter your perspective on life. Full Speed’s heartfelt declaration that an IHOP breakfast is the best breakfast he’s ever had makes me appreciate my Harvest Nut pancakes on a whole different level.
I may make it through to the start of school after all.
In the grand scheme of life, T.Puzzle is doing pretty good after his tonsillectomy. The hardest part has been getting him to take his pain meds. Somehow convincing a very opinionated 5-year-old that orally ingesting pain relievers down the very vessel that has been injured, is most often a losing battle. Yesterday, as he complained of a hurting throat, I brought him some Tylenol. We were at an instant stand-off that ultimately led to him being sent to his room. The tantrum that followed was of epic proportions. Eventually, he calmed himself enough and was able to take the medicine. About thirty minutes later he sat at the table and ate some yogurt.
