marital blissishness, mommyhood

The Best Train Ride Ever

WFAM

We are always looking for suitable family outings on the weekends. Since we were in the middle of a long holiday one, we were already starting to run out of ideas (at least of ideas I  wanted to participate in, I had reached my limit of arcade games and go-carts). Mad Dog came up with a lovely solution. He suggested we go to the fancy outdoor mall and check out a new eatery for dinner. His thought would be that we could check out the stores for my benefit (if I was really lucky maybe even a purchase for me), have the boys walk as much as possible (to tire them out of course) and eat outdoors (always a good choice when dining with the rambunctious Full Speed and T.Puzzle).
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As we pulled into the main complex and drove around a bit to get our bearings, we ended up behind a miniature train. Of course the boys went berserk (especially T.Puzzle who has an undying love of all things train) and I died a little inside. Let me give you some history.

This is the type of train you see at most malls. It’s a new-fangled one that doesn’t run on tiny track. Instead it peruses the ENTIRE mall. I have already ridden the exact same type of train at our nearby indoor mall dozens of times (much to my dismay). The thing I hate (I know it’s a strong word, it’s honestly how I feel) the most about these rides is cramming my adult body into a minuscule train car and then having everyone in the mall stare at me while I pretend to enjoy my discomfort and wave Miss America-style to everyone we pass. I’m a rather self-conscious person and this is utter torture for me.

With a heavy heart, I knew we were going to have to go on the train ride here. I didn’t even know they had one. I may have reconsidered this entire outing if I had full train disclosure (I blame no one but myself).

We made it through dinner and it was mostly enjoyable. There were a few tense moments with T.Puzzle and some asparagus. We got through it. Then it was train time.

Having only been to this outdoor mall once before and never noticing a train, we didn’t know where to get aboard. As we began walking, Mad Dog tried to flag down the conductor to no avail. So we began to high-tail it through the masses of people and car covered side streets. The train seemed to move slowly. It was an illusion.  The boys were frantically trying to keep pace with Mad Dog as the train slips farther and farther from view. We were dodging people left and right and I began sweating profusely. Even an early September evening in Florida can be rockin’ hot. Needless to say, I’m not happy.

We catch the train at a corner only to see it slither away and make a wide u-turn. I’m staring to get angry. The boys are beside themselves fearing all is lost. I turn to Mad Dog and say, “I’m done chasing this stupid (I know, I know, I try so very hard not to use the stupid word in front of the boys) train.”

Mad Dog is single-minded in his quest and does not hear me (he better not have been ignoring me!). He keeps pushing forward. Full Speed is now on Mad Dog’s shoulders and T.Puzzle is weaving back and forth dangerously close to Mad Dog’s legs. In an instant, T.Puzzle gets tangled in the middle of Mad Dog’s stride and falls flat on the paved side-walk with a sickening thud. He lets out a wail and I want to cry right along with him.

After some quick consolation, we are all ready for the train. We pile in the teeny-tiny caboose and I angrily announce to Mad Dog to not make any inappropriate comments about my denim skirt and the awkward angle of my legs. I wasn’t in the mood. He immediately is defensive. “Don’t you start with me,” sort of dealy is what he said. He claims he wasn’t going to say anything, I think his past behavior speaks for itself and I will leave it at that.

So, there we are, Mad Dog and I are fuming at each other and then the boys began to bicker and fight. That’s when I knew this was going to be the best train ride ever.

mommyhood

Under the Bus

WFAM

On the weekends we have a ritual for Full Speed. He is allowed on Friday and Saturday nights (if he has been respectful throughout the day) to fall asleep in Mom and Dad’s bed. When we turn in Mad Dog moves Full Speed to his own bed and we all happily sleep the night away.

T.Puzzle is getting old enough now that it is time to transition him to a big boy bed. Even though I know it is time, it has been put on the back-burner until Full Speed is through the other side of his surgeries. I try to have a strict policy of one major life event at time. As if I have any control over that one…

Last night, Mad Dog and I deemed T.Puzzle old enough to participate. Meaning I was going to allow the privilege of both boys to fall asleep in our bed. It was my job to get them in their pajama attire (Mad Dog did help bathe them), read them a story (I picked something short and sweet) and turn out the lights. Mad Dog was off on a Target-run to get us the second season of Entourage (Johnny Drama is our favorite).

T.Puzzle was awfully restless during our nighttime story. He kept attempting handstands and throwing his legs up in the air. He would inevitably lose his balance and slide off the side of the bed all the while yelling, “Whoa!” He has this way of saying “whoa” in a crescendo that perfectly mimics his falls to the floor.

I immediately was incredulous. Maybe my little T.Puzzle was not going to make it in a big-person bed after all. When I tucked them in, I regally climbed a-top my soap box (metaphorically speaking, you know I love a good metaphor) and sternly told them what’s what.

“Sleeping in Mommy and Daddy’s bed is a privilege and you must treat it as such. There can be no rough-housing and no one is allowed to leave the bed. The first boy I see come down the stairs will be immediately relocated to his bed no questions asked. If you think I’m not serious, go ahead and give me a try and see what happens,” I stated in my best don’t-mess-with-Mommy voice. I had sufficiently frightened myself so I figured that was the best I could do.

“I love you both, I will see you tomorrow (hopefully not a minute sooner).” I proceeded to head downstairs to our lanai to read my ‘People’ magazine (I’m not ashamed, I love my ‘People’!).

Not two minutes later I see T.Puzzle standing before me.

“Hi Mommy!” he says.

Well, that did it; I had to follow through on my threat. Up the stairs he went kicking and screaming. I put him in his room and shut the door. Even with the door closed it did next to nothing to muffle the roar of his tantrum.

Something wasn’t quite adding up. When T.Puzzle appeared before my eyes downstairs he had his brother’s doggie. Why would T.Puzzle have his brother’s doggie? I went into my room to investigate.

“Full Speed, did you tell your brother to bring me your doggie so he would get in trouble and have to go to his room (Full Speed does NOT like to share Mommy and Daddy’s bed with his brother!)?”

“Well, you see Mommy, T.Puzzle said he wanted to go downstairs and I helped pack him up.” He said it all so harmlessly.

I don’t know exactly what dialogue was exchanged between the two of them. I have a feeling Full Speed somehow threw T.Puzzle under the bus. Full Speed is lucky that T.Puzzle doesn’t have great verbal skills (yet, he is only two) to tell his side of the story. I’m guessing it might have went like this,

Full Speed says, “T.Puzzle, why don’t you go downstairs and show Mommy my doggie, she really wants to see it.”

T.Puzzle says, “Yeah.” He heads downstairs where he is promptly disciplined and placed in his crib. A win-win for Full Speed.

This is all speculation, next time I may need to put a recording device of some sort next to the bed. I have a feeling T.Puzzle could use the back-up.

the real smack down

good grief, self-discovery, self-image/self-acceptance

Whack Tooth

WFAM
Two perfect smiles
Two perfect smiles

My tooth hurts. Yeah, it’s been hurting for about a month and a half. You know how we Moms are, last on the priority list not daring to add another appointment to our already jam-packed lives.

On our weekend getaway when T.Puzzle vomited his body weight, Mad Dog noticed I was using a tooth-paste for sensitive teeth. He said enough is enough; you are going to the dentist. Oh, joy.

Mad Dog took the initiative to track down a dentist and get all our insurance ducks in a row. He is a task-master this one is. One of the many reasons I love him. It can also be slightly annoying when you are desperately refusing to believe you are in need of immediate dental attention. I don’t like the dentist. The only one who enjoys it in our family is Full Speed. He likes that you get a new toothbrush when you are finished.

How, you may ask yourself, in the middle of all this dental hi-jinks, could I possibly be sad and miss my Mom? It is bizarre the way that your grief keeps itself quietly in your pocket and then jumps out and yells, “Surprise, you are no where near feeling normal and whole again, my dear!” Then it slips into dormancy waiting for the next moment you smugly believe you are doing okay.

My wisdom teeth are whack. So much so, that I had three employees of the dental facility make a stop in my room to say, “We have never seen the likes of wisdom teeth like yours before.” For real.

See if you can find the crazy tooth
See if you can find the crazy tooth

Not only are my wisdom teeth embedded deep in my gums (likely to never surface), they are perpendicular to my molars. They also tilt down a bit appearing as if they are aiming to crash into my jaw bone. They don’t cause me pain but have forced my gums to configure in an odd way forming pockets that are prone to infection. This is most likely what is causing the sensitivity in my molar region. Hopefully, a thorough cleaning and pricey mouthwash that is so magical, you can only purchase it at your dentist’s office (of course) will do the trick. So three hours (thank God for Mad Dog’s Mom who watched Full Speed who was still home from school with a low-grade fever) and nearly two-hundred dollars later (I would have much rather spent that at a spa!), I was ready for clearance.

Do you know who else had freakish wisdom teeth? My Mom. She had the exact same oddity where they never surfaced and jutted perpendicularly up against her molars. They never caused her too much of a problem either.

I take that back, they did cause me a problem today. They reminded me of the loss of my Mom. Luckily, when a tear of sadness formed in the corner of my eye, I was able to put it off as a tear of physical pain. You know how hygenists can be. Even though mine was a perfectly lovely woman, she wielded her metal hooks and probes like a ninja warrior.

I’m not upset that I imperfectly inherited my Mom’s wisdom teeth or that they reminded me of my loss; I’m actually kind of grateful. It’s another physical token that I am my Mom’s girl. I am always going to be her girl. That makes me smile, whack teeth and all.

mommyhood

Together Wii Stand

WFAM

Full Speed and I retrieved T.Puzzle from Grandma and Grandpa’s and our long day at home began. Full Speed was feeling much better of course, so he was in high need of entertainment. I had anticipated this and had sent Mad Dog to Blockbuster to rent some Wii games and a couple movies.

I talked up the first movie big time. ‘The Race to Witch Mountain’ is going to be super cool and exciting I said to them. Full Speed couldn’t believe his luck, it sounded too good to be true. At around 10am I put the movie on for them and headed downstairs to get caught up on an out-of-control laundry situation. No sooner than I began to fold a Spider-man t-shirt, Full Speed started shouting at me.

“Mom! Come here and push play. The movie is not starting.” I could hear the frustration rising in his voice.

I was in denial. I was going to attempt to explain my way out of having to trek all the way back upstairs.

“Full Speed, I started it, now watch the movie!” I did my best scary-Mom voice to get my point across.

“No you didn’t Mom, come and press play.” He had peaked my curiosity. I was certain the movie was on when I left the room; I was trying to figure out if I was that out of touch with my reality to have not started the movie and walk away.

I made the trip up the steps (holding only a tiny grudge in my heart, I hate laundry anyway). As my head cleared the top stair I had a view of the TV. The movie was on and the action had started in full force. The movie was bewitching and mountainous.

“Full Speed, I told you the movie was on, this is what it looks like,” I stated as I tried to hold my exasperation in check (I don’t think I did a very good job).

“Where are the racers, then?” he asked.

Oh, I got it; Full Speed is a die-hard race car guy. He thought the race to Witch Mountain was an actual NASCAR-type race. Since it is not, he immediately lost interest and I had nine hours until bedtime (he didn’t nap either; you would think he would, that’s not Full Speed’s style even if he has a fever) to keep him occupied.

I turned to the Wii games. Full Speed is old enough to hold his own in Wii sports (he had a celebrated day last year in which he beat Mad Dog in both bowling and golf) but other games are slightly beyond his grasp. The solution is to give him a controller, keep one for yourself and then play the game using only your controller while allowing the belief that Full Speed is the commandeer of operations. Works like a charm. The major flaw in this plan is that you actually have to play the game yourself. While some of these games can be fun on an occasional basis, most are mind-numbing to me in their machinations.

I had to play G-Force and maneuver Darwin (a Disney guinea pig character) through his nine levels of special ops training. When we made it to level six, the sharp-shooting section, I dreamed of being able to turn the laser gun on Darwin himself. I knew it was time to end the game.

We tried a few other various video games with much of the same outcome. I don’t like video games about guinea pigs. I don’t like video games in general. I’m a girl. I’m an adult. I’d rather read a good book and drink a glass of Chardonnay. I gave up and let them watch a television program of their own choosing. That’s how I made it until lunchtime.

After lunch, I put them to bed (T.Puzzle slept gloriously for TWO hours, Full Speed spent his time calling out to me and negotiating that it really was time for him to get up now), and felt the weight of the remainder of the afternoon pressing down on me.

Then, the heavens opened up and the stars aligned. Aunt Skee had sent a care package for Full Speed’s now canceled eye surgery. She had gifts a-plenty for Full Speed and even one for T.Puzzle so he wouldn’t feel left out (she’s good like that). Lo and behold, two new Transformers for them to play with. The real gift is that they played quietly with them for over forty-five minutes. That’s an all time record.

If I had opened the care package and found a Wii game instead, I would have lost it for sure.

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mommyhood

Eye Can’t Believe It

WFAM

Before Full Speed is allowed to have his eye surgeries, he has to have a regular check-up. There is a huge amount of planning and coordinating to make sure he has this check-up before his preoperative appointment (which is something different according to his ophthalmologist’s instruction and oddly similar to a check-up) yet still falls within a week of his actual surgery date. The surgery itself is quite a feat to schedule as well. We had to align the schedules of our primary ophthalmologist with that of a retinal specialist who would be making in a special trip to participate in the surgery. With all of this, we have to make sure that T.Puzzle is adequately taken care of while we are running his older brother back and forth to pre-surgery appointments, the actual surgeries and all the subsequent follow-up visits. It’s a heavily populated calendar we have before us but miraculously, we are making it work.

Like I said, our first stop on this harrowing journey is Full Speed’s check-up. T.Puzzle was going to Grandma and Grandpa’s for the evening and sleeping over. That way, I would only have Full Speed to deal with at this initial appointment and T.Puzzle would be cared for the following day. This is when Full Speed and I headed to the Children’s Clinic for his 8am preoperative rendezvous with the good doctor. Our doctor kicks butt by the way.

I’m trying to set the stage here. I want you, my dear reader (and thank you for your continued interest and support), to understand the complexity of the scheduling situation. This way you will have full appreciation for what happened next.

Full Speed and I were seated in one of the rooms waiting for the pediatrician. The nurse came in and Full Speed was his usual self, very serious and business-like. He followed her directions with a literal accuracy only someone like he can and everything was status quo.

Then it was time for the temperature portion of the check-up. The nurse pops the thermometer in his ear, it beeps and she quickly removes it with a flick of her wrist. Full Speed lets out a little, “Ouch!” Then he says, “That hurt!”

The nurse glances down at the thermometer in her hand and says disbelievingly, “He has a temp. of 101.1.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me? That is insane! Maybe you need the eye surgery, check it again, lady (don’t get me wrong, the nurse was nice, I couldn’t see that in the middle of my freak-out)! How could this happen? Why did this happen? Why does the world hate me?” is what I thought silently to myself.

Instead, what I said out loud was, “Didn’t see that coming. What do we do next?”

The nurse said, “Wait for the doctor and see what she says.”

I didn’t have a good feeling about this. I turned to face Full Speed.

“Does your ear hurt?” I asked still unwilling to believe he was sick.

“Yeah, a little,” he said quite matter of factly like it was no big deal. Like it’s the same as wearing striped socks or breathing. Illness and pain do not slow Full Speed down. His ear hurt, so what?

I was astounded that he had given no one any indication he was feeling under-the-weather. His teachers at school said he had a great day; he was in a fine mood when I picked him up and we even played a raucous game of Transformers in the waiting room before seeing the nurse and doctor.

The long and the short of it is his surgery is indefinitely postponed and while the very future of the clarity of his vision hangs in the balance (I get that I can be a bit of a drama queen but I’m not exaggerating unfortunately); all we can do is wait.

I’ll admit, when the doctor was writing the ‘script for Full Speed’s antibiotic, I wished she could have written me one for Atavan or Valium or whatever pill there is that could help me feel like I wasn’t losing my mind. Instead, I thanked my lucky stars that Full Speed is such a strong little guy. When he finally does have these surgeries, he’s going to kick butt, too. He may even wear striped socks to boot.

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