Category: health

children, health, mommyhood, parenting, self care (or lack thereof)

Motherhood!

WFAM

Frick school picFrack's school picIs it counterproductive to take pictures of your kids as they are on their way out the door to have their pictures taken at school? I couldn’t help myself because they were too adorable. And they still let me dress them alike. Yeah, I’m one of those annoying Moms and I love it. I won’t do it forever. Just until they are eighteen or get a job and leave my house. No, I’m kidding. I’m realizing the window for alike dressing is soon to be closing. Until then, my boys are going to rock it out identically.

I’m still sick and achy. Now it seems my overall body soreness has crept up to my neck and my throat is hurting. I think my fever is back (although I’m guessing it never left to begin with) and I’m feeling yucky. I sucked it up today as best I could. This was the first day both boys were back at school in long while and I needed to take advantage of their absence. I cranked on errands and household duties. I held strong for the first part of the day and now I feel like a pile of well, you know what.

I’m sure that if you if you are reading this you are thinking ‘Go to the doctor you silly girl!’ (yes, I like to imagine you referring to me as a girl as much as possible, when you are over thirty it helps). I will in due time. If you are a Mom (or Dad for that matter) and are reading this you understand that I still have at least another day or so of being miserable before I make time to go see a healthcare professional. As a parent you have to be sick in a major, major way to allow for a medical intervention. It’s too inconvenient. When you finally do have a spare moment, you find that you have a list of about one hundred and thirty-seven things on your to-do list that take precedence (oh, like I don’t know, making sure your family has clean underwear or maybe food). And you know you always, always could pack up your kids and take them with you to the walk-in clinic but who in their right mind would want to do that? If you weren’t sick before you go, you will certainly be sick (mentally) by the time you leave there.

All I hope is that by Full Speed’s real birthday celebration this Saturday I feel my best. Otherwise, no amount of liquor or consumption of Transformer-decorated-sugar will get me through. I only have myself to blame (oh yeah, and motherhood, too!).

children, health, mommyhood, potty training

Drive Like the Wind

WFAM

birthday hatEverything in my body hurts again and worse than it did yesterday. Fortunately, Full Speed was at school for the day (I brought in cupcakes for him to celebrate his birthday with his class – check out his cool hat) and T.Puzzle was surprisingly well mannered throughout the day.

The drop off of Full Speed was a little harried. Full Speed’s  class was heading back to the other side of the building for their ‘specials’ class (art, music, movement and such). I normally get him there well before they head out but I was sub-par today and wasn’t very timely.

T.Puzzle got nervous and confused in the melee of five year olds. He got turned around and I took my eyes off of him for a second to give Full Speed a goodbye smooch and he darted out the door into the main lobby. He attached himself to a woman who had on a similar pair of pants since that is what is at his eye level, and was ready to go with her for the day. I managed to snatch him up before he exited the building. Whew!

Grandma was entering just as we were leaving. She had to pick up Lil’ Superman (the boys’ three year old cousin) for a doctor’s appointment. As soon as T.Puzzle recognized his Grandma he drops my hand like a dead fish and says, “Bye, Mommy. I go to Grandpa’s house (he still calls her Grandpa which is highly entertaining).”

After a few screaming moments when the realization sunk in that he was going with Mommy and not Grandma, we head back home.

Thankfully, he recovered nicely and even took a two and a half hour nap! Thank, God.

sweet frickity frick

I’m almost to bedtime (boys are watching a show as I tap this out) and sincerely hope Mad Dog is home soon to assist me. Drive like the wind Mad Dog, drive like the wind!

P.S.- Mad Dog did get home in time to bathe the boys (yay!) and put them to bed (double yay!). I don’t know what was more amusing. The odd noises coming from upstairs (yelps and shouts) before the bath or a completely naked Full Speed running downstairs to animatedly tell me about T.PUzzle’s unfortunate use of my bedroom carpet as a toilet (just pee this time). Mad Dog handled it all graciously. Thank you.

eyesight, health, life in pictures, parenting, terrible twos

Margaritaville

WFAM

walk at the mall part twoWe went back to the outdoor mall to go on the notorious train. It was actually my idea. I know it’s shocking. Since Full Speed’s surgery we are limited to what we can do for outings. We want to avoid communal play areas because they are breeding grounds for bacteria and he isn’t allowed to jump and run as it may jeopardize the stability of his retina. A train ride seemed to be a contained and calm option. Because I was choosing to do it for Full Speed’s sake, I embraced it fully. The strangest thing happened; we ended up having a fantastic time.

We arrived before the train rides began and made our way down to a Mexican restaurant with outdoor seating. The boys were well-behaved and the food was the best Mexican food I have ever ingested (I may have been slightly biased by the additional best margarita I’ve ever ingested but who knows?).

After lunch we make our way to the train (it went so much more smoothly now that we actually know its point of origin). On our way there we randomly run into the boys’ eye doctor. She spots us immediately (we are hard to miss with one kid in a taped on shield and another in glasses) and we chit-chat for a moment or two. She comments on the train (T.Puzzle at this point is jumping all over yelling, “Choo! Choo!”) and that she had never seen it before. The way she references it reminds me of a person who is at a mall to actually shop or meet with other adults for adult conversation. I vaguely remember what that used to be like (again, my memory is a bit fuzzed at the edges as I am still walking off my delicious margarita).

walk at the mall

We say our goodbyes and go our separate ways. The boys get along marvelously during the ride and Mad Dog and I are peacefully coexisting. It was virtually pain-free. The boys are doing so well they actually hold each other’s hands for a while without fighting. We reward them by going to the train table at the bookstore. We are having a perfect outing. There are a plethora of engines to choose from, no one else is utilizing the table and T.Puzzle and Full Speed have cooperatively constructed a train made of four cars. They are pushing this train in nonviolent unity. Mad Dog and I sort of forget the time and let them play at length.

We end up pushing T.Puzzle’s naptime. Even though he doesn’t always nap, some days he absolutely needs one. Today was one of those days. He does not handle the news well that it is time to leave the train table. I have to take him outside and place him in time-out. It doesn’t help that he is undeniably cute and that every passer-by stops to say ‘hi’ or comment on how sweet he is. He loves the limelight. He refuses to apologize to me which is standard procedure to get out of jail (you know the Supernanny credo and all). Mad Dog has to manhandle T.Puzzle to get him to comply and he slumps against Mad Dog’s chest in defeat.

He rallies for the ride home but it all hits the fan again when we pull in the drive-way. He refuses to enter the house. Instead, he books it as fast as he can down towards the street. Mad Dog and I collectively had to drop the hammer. Mad Dog brings him in, takes off T.Puzzle’s socks and crocs (he is steadfastly attached to both these entities) and takes away his Lightning McQueen car.

I swoop in and carry his screaming self up to his room. He wails and flails about during his diaper change. I place him in his crib and remove anything else he is attached to. He has no blankets or stuffed animals to speak of. All he has is his pillow and his thoughts as I shut the door behind me.

He tantrums on for about thirty or so minutes and finally gives into the surrender of sleep. We are thankful for the interlude of quiet. It doesn’t last long. Maybe forty or so minutes pass and we can hear him begin to whimper on the monitor. We bring him downstairs and he tries futilely to put his socks and crocs back on. We are allowing him to have them back but we are not helping him put them on. He is feeling wholly misunderstood.

His suitcase is still out by the front door from the night he spent at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s while we were getting Full Speed ready for surgery. He grabs his suitcase, leans against the door and pleads, “I go to Grandpa/Grandpa’s house (he calls Grandma, Grandpa for some reason)!”

If I had my way, he already would have been packed and gone.

I know that seems harsh but believe me, our evening with T.Puzzle did not get any easier. Does it ever get easier? Please, if you are a Mom, don’t tell me your answer. Denial and margaritas are the only things keeping me sane (slightly).

eyesight, health, parenting, surgery

Ladies’ Man

WFAM

Our doctor graciously agreed to perform Full Speed’s second surgery on a Friday. This meant that she would have to meet us at the Children’s Clinic on a Saturday for a follow-up. Since the clinic is technically closed on Saturday, we had to have the security guard let us in, the lights were out in the building and we had to go in a back way through a maze of offices.

Full Speed’s follow-up was good. He struggled a little because his eye was sensitive to light as it is still dilated from all the drops from yesterday’s surgery. He was uncomfortable and that was obvious.

We are currently waiting for his new prescription to come in and hoping we get it sometime next week. To get him adequate vision to function in the meantime, the doctor put in an extended-wear contact in his right eye while he continues to wear a protective shield over his left. He struggled through the contact process. He fidgeted and would flinch almost every time the contact was nearly in place. We tried it with him seated, then lying down and then finally seated again. I marveled at how challenging it was for even the doctor to get a contact on him. How I managed to change them in and out when we tried them before is quite miraculous.

Eventually, the contact was in place and we were given clearance to go home. Before we left, the doctor hands us two spare contacts in case he loses the one in his right eye. Mad Dog and I are astonished at this. When Full Speed had contacts ordered before, we had to wait over a month for them to come in because they were so highly specialized. Once we had them, we were only allowed one pair so when we lost one, we were out of luck. With his new prescription, the Children’s Clinic came up with a contact for him in a day and gave us two spares no problem. It is surreal being in the world of the normal range prescription. We are so thankful.

As we go down the stairs to the parking lot, Full Speed holds the doc’s hand. They have hit it off tremendously and it seems like a perfectly natural gesture. As we pull out from the parking garage, Full Speed tells us again that the doctor is his girlfriend. He then goes on to list all of his lady friends. After the doctor it’s our babysitter, then two girls from his class and last but not least, his Mom. It’s an honor just being nominated really.

eyesight, health, loss of parent, mommyhood, surgery

The ‘Game Face’

WFAM

We are home after the surgery and we are thankful to be so. As evening approaches I make some popcorn and we head up to our family loft area to watch ‘The Fox and the Hound’. It feels good to be all snuggled together.

It was nice to sort of let the events of the day fade into the background. It’s exhausting constantly to have your ‘game face’ on for your children.

There was a moment when Full Speed was done with the surgery and Mad Dog and I were with him that I almost completely lost it. I was standing next to his metal crib watching him. He was still and peaceful. He was hooked up to an I.V. and all the other contraptions to monitor his vital signs and the tears started to pour down my cheeks.

I couldn’t fathom all this year has put us through. I thought back to when my Mom was diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer and the dreadfulness that ensued. I remembered going through some of my own medical procedures and testing this summer (all relatively minor with positive results) and how physically and emotionally demanding that had all been on the heels of my Mom’s medical disaster. I thought of the countless trips to downtown Jacksonville to the Children’s Clinic as I tried to get Full Speed the best vision possible, failing miserably with contacts and Mad Dog and I making the scary decision to move forward with his last-ditch eye surgeries. I also tried to process some of the strangeness of my family dynamics with my Mom missing from its core.
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Feeling overwhelmed, I wanted to curl up in a tiny ball and cry. Instead, Full Speed woke up and he was awfully cantankerous shaking off the anesthesia and I had to get my ‘game face’ back on.

When do Mommies get their moments to lose it? I’ll let you know when I finally have mine.