children, mommyhood

9-1-1

WFAM

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My time with Full Speed at home while he recovers is winding down. I’ve noticed that when it is just the two of us, it feels more like I’m spending time with a small man than my nearly five year old son.

He is a serious boy. Believe me, he loves a good chuckle but mostly he is thoughtfully observant and brimming with curiosity. As his observations become more multifaceted, I am finding it difficult to explain things in terms he can relate to. Today he asked me what it meant to have a broken heart.

“Well, you know that feeling in your chest when you feel sad?” I ask.

“No, I am not sad. I don’t feel sad. I never feel sad,” he says in a stern way. He is clearly trying to avoid his feelings in a typically male fashion.

Okay, so that approach didn’t work. I knew I needed to clearly address his question because we’ve had all sorts of discussions about bodies that don’t ‘work’ anymore as I tried to explain what happened when his Grandma died. I didn’t want him to think that a heart randomly breaks and stops working (even though it could but you know what I mean).

“When a heart is broken,” I bravely plod on, “it means more about having hurt feelings than an actual heart that hurts.” I expounded a little more and then he moved on to something else. This kid is going to give me a run for the money with his questions. It is highly entertaining and terrifying all at once.

When we were riding in the truck today, Full Speed explained he liked to wear his seatbelt under his arm instead of over his shoulder.

“Full Speed, you need to keep it over your shoulder so you stay safe,” I state firmly.

“What would happen if I never, ever wore my seatbelt again?” he asks.

“That would be against the law and you wouldn’t keep safe if we were in an accident,” I respond.

“Mom, there’s a girl in my class who says she doesn’t wear her seatbelt. We should tell the police. You should call them as soon as we get home.” He is a stickler for the rules.

I am taken aback with frustrated amusement and grow silent. I’m learning sometimes when I try to explain things we end up on a tangent so far from the starting point that I want to give up.

I don’t say anything for a few minutes and all is quiet in the backseat.

“Mom, do you know the number to the police because they need to know about so-and-so not wearing her seatbelt,” he persists.

I can ‘hear’ it now, “911 what is your emergency?” the voice on the line asks.

I say, “My five year old asks questions I can’t answer and may soon be smarter than I am. Send help immediately.”

Believe me my finger is hovered over the phone at the ready to dial.

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children, eyesight, gratitude, life in pictures, mommyhood

Amen.

WFAM

I’m feeling a bit like a blogger who has lost her words (well, only a little, as you’ll see I manage to write on). I’ve been trying to capture what I am feeling and words on a screen cannot do it justice. Full Speed got his new glasses yesterday and they are amazing. What tugged at my heartstrings most was how PROUD he was to wear them. Up until now he has worn his other glasses without complaint. I can’t imagine they were comfortable weighing down his adorable, little face and denting in the sides of his sensitive nose. Even so I was surprised at how excited he was to have his new glasses. I guess the fact that everyone in the optometrist’s office kept commenting on his extreme level of good looks in his new frames probably egged on his sense of pride (and let’s face it, an almost five year old loves to be the center of attention).

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Of course during his fitting for his new frames, little brother T.Puzzle escaped from the tiny room with all the children’s frames and was peering at me through a window in the waiting area, standing on a chair of course, and saying “Hi, Mommy!” over and over. It is guaranteed chaos when we trek to the optometrist’s. It’s because it is a place wholly unequipped for the five and under set.

As we exited the office (thankfully with all display cases still intact) and I took pictures of Full Speed’s beaming smile in his new frames, I thought about what it meant. His vision has improved. He can see. My prayer for improved sight from so long ago had finally been answered.

Over the years my prayers have changed. I felt so helpless when Full Speed was initially diagnosed and it made me feel more in control in the sad, dark hours of the night to send a prayer out into the universe. I figured it couldn’t hurt an already challenging situation. Through this process, as you know, I first prayed for the betterment of his vision. Eventually, I let that prayer go (as my acceptance of his condition grew and all that went with it) and I started to pray for different things. I began to pray for strength and courage. One of the most important changes I remember was asking that wherever our journey took us as a family in life, that we would be in a place that offered the best possible eye care for my children. We moved to Florida and the rest is history. Amen.

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children, mommyhood

The Compassionate Boy

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Can you really consider it to be stress-relief yoga if you have two children utilizing the space you create between yourself and the floor as their tunnel? Hey, at least they were playing together.

Full Speed is mastering the many complexities of the English language. He is full of questions and curiosity. He asks me constantly about words and their meanings. Yesterday he asked me what ‘compassion’ meant. I asked where he had heard the word and to describe the context. He said he heard it on his ‘Hotwheels’ cartoon. A compassionate Hotwheels cartoon, who knew such a thing existed? I still don’t fully understand exactly what he was talking about. He said there was an army and then they captured compassion and wouldn’t give it back. I’m guessing he heard it somewhere else. Who knows?

I did my best to explain it. I said it has to do with caring about how someone else feels. For instance, if your brother is happy then you are happy for him. Conversely, if he feels sad, then you feel sad. Compassion also means doing what you can to help others feel better. Full Speed seemed satisfied with that explanation.

As I sat at the computer yesterday typing away as I am now known to do for the love of my blog, the boys are out playing on the lanai. They alternate between being best friends and mortal enemies. I try to ignore them because I find that the resolution they reach on their own is always more solid than the resolution that Mom reaches for them. It’s not easy to ignore the piercing screams and cries for help (all highly over-dramatized). I think a Mom’s greatest strength is her ability to tune out nonsense so everyone can get on with their lives.

Full Speed runs in and says, “Mommy, I showed T.Puzzle compassion because I gave him my car and it made him happy. I felt happy because he was happy.”

I think he is getting it. It is fun to see your growing child begin to understand intricate emotional states. It’s almost as if you can see the adult inside of them beginning to peek out.

However, his compassionate feeling didn’t last long. Soon he had snatched his car back and started hitting T.Puzzle over the head with it.

Looks like I need to teach T.Puzzle the meaning of self-defense.

A Mom’s work is never done.

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children, humor, mommyhood

Oh. No.

WFAM

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I made the mistake of mentioning to T.Puzzle that he was going to have a bath before I was actually ready to give it to him. I was cleaning up dinner and had a few more things to organize before I headed upstairs to start the water. Since Full Speed’s eye is still in a delicate state, I am only doing one boy per bath. Full Speed is content knowing he will have a solo bath tomorrow while T.Puzzle is at school.

As soon as T.Puzzle hears the word ‘bath’ he’s off like a shot-put and zips upstairs. Full Speed and I laugh because we can hear his little feet running from one end of our second level to the other. It’s funny because he’s so fast and it sounds like he is overly caffeinated (which he wasn’t).

I work hard to make sure my boys know their routines and are full participants in said routines. Having boys that know what needs to be done before a bath (i.e.- get undressed, go potty, dirty clothes in hamper) is a mostly wonderful thing. It helps to tone down a highly charged situation (boys love their baths and demonstrate this love through extreme physical motion that can easily spiral out of control). Routines can become a thing of fright when an unsupervised two year old attempts to go it alone.

I tie up my loose ends in the kitchen and Full Speed and I go upstairs. Awaiting us at the top of the stairs is a half-naked T.Puzzle.  He is without pants and is diaper-free. He is also grinning from ear to ear. I grab him quick as can be and place him on the potty.  He doesn’t go of course and when I lift him up I notice a small, brown smudge on the seat. Oh. No.

I examine his hindquarters to find that there is a stain of poop, not a full-blown messy butt situation, but a smear of poop just the same. After I take some wipes and clean him up a feeling of dread washes over me. I run to his room to his diaper pail praying I find the remnants of a poopy diaper in there. There is none to be found. I can’t even imagine the poop-destruction to be uncovered and where it will be discovered.

Ninety percent of the time the boys are bathed in my and Mad Dog’s bathroom. Even though I feel a distinct pit of fear, I hold my nose and bravely enter this bathroom.

The good news is I’ve seen worse (there was an unfortunate runny poop/bath situation when T.Puzzle was about a year old that will forever be known as ‘the poop soup’ incident of ’08). The bad news is that T.Puzzle has pooped all over one of our bath mats and partially on our floor. I have this moment where I feel that I’m not the mother of a child, but a pet owner with a poorly trained dog (I had one those, poorly trained and all, back in the day). I’m relieved that most of it ended up on the bath mat and scold myself for letting him go upstairs in a bath frame of mind unattended. Apparently, I need better training, too.

life in pictures, mommyhood, self-discovery

Wait for It

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Patient Full Speed is home for the week. It’s not as an intimidating prospect as it used to be because he is much easier to manage. When I was pregnant with him years ago, I had these deluded fantasies that he would accompany me on all my errands throughout the week and we would laugh and giggle and have a grand ol’ time. That was before I understood the subtleties of childhood temperament and the level of movement needed to maintain an active baby’s contentment. In other words, I didn’t know a darn thing about raising a stubborn, hyperactive boy who was constantly in motion.

Almost from the moment I brought him home it was like an assault of shock and awe. He wasn’t fond of sleep, needed constant stimulation and he was a non-believer in staying in one place. My dreams of having pleasant company as I made my way through the mundane tasks of existence quickly evaporated in a hyperactive cloud of smoke. I soon learned to do more in less time and to always be moving when doing so. For example, I could make it through a run for groceries if I did just that. Run. I would literally have to move through the store at a slow and steady jog. If I paused for a moment, Full Speed would freak. Constant movement was the key to keeping him seated and quiet. I would get to the check-out and all hell would break loose because we would be at a standstill. Oh, the fond, fond memories.

Since his little brother has taken over the reigning crown of difficult small person in our home, I am now often surprised to find how much I enjoy my time with Full Speed these days. We have very similar senses of humor and can crack each other up just by a look or a word. He’s comical. He must have gotten the funny gene from my Mom. She was hilarious.

He has been accompanying me to my allergy shots and he loves it. Surprisingly, so do I (the company, not the shots). He is calm (mostly) and respectful (mostly). He can actually entertain himself so even if it takes a long time, there is not a meltdown in sight.

We did run in to a small catch today. An elderly woman came through the door of the allergy office with a walker and Full Speed loudly says, “What in the world is that thing?” He said it rather rudely, too.

Oh, you Moms out there know the feeling of awkward embarrassment a child’s curiosity and their inability to filter their thoughts can cause. Every Mom has a similar story (that is if your child can speak). The kind of story where your child states the obvious and the recipient of this obvious observation is less than pleased.

How did I handle it? I faced it head on. “Full Speed, it is called a walker that helps her to keep steady. It isn’t rude to wonder what it is, but the way you asked about it was disrespectful. I would like you to say, ‘sorry ma’am’.” He did and I’m not sure he totally understood what he was apologizing for but it seemed like the right thing. The woman seemed grateful that I openly acknowledged his comment and let it go after that. A situation concerning a walker or the like (glasses, a cane, etc.) is a little easier to handle than if your child comments on an actual physical, unchangeable characteristic of someone else. I am hoping I don’t have to blog about that anytime soon (fingers crossed!). Other than that (and it was relatively minor in the grand scheme), we had a fine time.

It took five, long years to get to the point with Full Speed that more often than not he is well-behaved and even pleasant on outings. If I do the math, and believe me math is not my strong suit, I have two years and some change for Frick to reach this behavioral/emotional milestone. I don’t know if I have what it takes to wait it out. I guess I have to. My only other alternative is to wait for my meds to kick in.

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