Okay. So there are a lot of trials and tribulations to raising young children. The energy requirements alone are enough to make you faint. I still am lobbying the government for Sundays off from motherhood. Oh, and I would love some monetary compensation to call my own.
Besides these obvious pitfalls, there is a fantasic upside.
My boys are still at the age where spending time with me is almost as awesome as the impending summer release of Transformers 3.
Full Speed beams during our regular Thursday lunch on St. Patrick's Day.
I’ll take the good with the bad and spend as much time with these guys as I can while they still let me.
Life hands you challenges sometimes. When you are faced with these, it is often difficult to understand why.
I have two young boys that were born with a rare genetic eye disorder called ectopia lentis.
I don’t know exactly why this happened.
All I do know is that it has put us on a path in life that is beyond anything we expected. We have been connected to amazing people we never would have met otherwise. We have had to test our mettle over and over each time victorious in the knowledge that as a family, we can overcome any obstacle.
So, I may not know exactly why vision challenges came into our lives. At least now I’ve had time and growth to realize some of the amazing lessons that have gone along with it.
If we can do this, we can do anything.
Think about any challenge you have lived through or are living with right now. If you can do that, you can do anything, too.
The sky’s the limit.
This is a pic of the boys being introduced by the director at the Vision is Priceless annual fundraiser. We are very thankful to this organization for all they do. Check out their link in my blog roll.
So, T.Puzzle is going through this thing. He likes to be assertively independent more so than usual. Of course this will only apply as he sees fit. He is adamant about dressing himself yet doesn’t believe in wiping his own bottom.
This can make life interesting.
I picked him up early last week to go to the allergist. I made him use the potty at school before we left. It was taking forever so I peaked in on him. Lo and behold, little man is wiping his own bottom! Like I said, this is something he refuses to do at home. Well, game over kid, your stinky tush is now your responsibility. I say this with a grain of salt and an arsenal of stain remover and extra strength detergent stockpiled in my laundry room.
T.Puzzle’s independence has been creeping into other areas. I ordered him a cheeseburger and fries at dinner with white milk. When it arrived he had a myriad of complaints. He wanted chocolate milk and he doesn’t like fries. First of all, he has never drank chocolate milk in his entire life and secondly, what four year old boy doesn’t like fries?
A contrary one trying be his own man and attempting to turn all his mother’s hair gray.
I long ago let go of the dream that my boys would ever want to decorate cookies. The first time I attempted this activity Full Speed was three and his interest was zero. Therefore I went into my Valentine cookie making experience with very low expectations.
I was pleasantly surprised. They both really got into it. It was a little chaotic and I was thankful that Mad Dog was on hand to help. Once the cookies were bedazzled with glittery sugar and hearts, we set out to deliver some to our neighbors.
The boys loved this even more than decorating.
I was so pleased with myself.
Decorating fun?
Check.
Spreading some love to friends?
Check.
Finding common ground with my two boys?
Check and check.
That is until Full Speed for no apparent reason grabbed hold of T.Puzzle’s arm, spun him in a wicked circle and threw him to the asphalt of our cul-de-sac. There was blood and wailing to boot.
Maybe next year will be my year. We will get through cookie decorating AND cookie delivery without any violence.
All you need is love and a good set of Cars band-aids on hand in case one of your kids inexplicably loses his mind and tries to maim the other.
T.Puzzle’s new glasses had finally arrived. There was only one minor problem.
He refused to wear them.
As I sat facing him in the optometrist’s office with his new glasses neatly folded in my palm, I ran through possible actions or threats to get him to comply.
I could validate his sense of injustice at having to wear glasses that actually fit snug on his head (as opposed to his very old, very stretched out former pair). Maybe if he felt ‘heard’ he’d be open to reason.
Or
I could square up my shoulders, look him dead in they eye and say, ‘Put the glasses on. If you don’t, you will go to your room when you get home and you won’t come out until you decide to where them.”
I assessed the people milling about the waiting room.
Yep.
They looked like the judgmental lot that we mothers are so used to encountering.
I knew I was going to look like a Mom-with-no-soul (T.Puzzle’s baby face and dimples make him look like an innocent lamb) but I went for the second option anyway.
As my threat of being sent to his room reverberated through the office and T.Puzzle wailed, a ripple of compassion went through the air.
I heard things like, ‘bless his heart,’ and ‘he doesn’t like how they feel, poor thing.’
The technician who adjusts the glasses swooped into the room with his pliers at the ready. “I’ll loosen them for him. Maybe that will help.”
Since I already had long surpassed the coddling route I decided to go all the way with it.
“Nope. They fit just fine (they honestly did). I have dealt with stubborn boys for years. He will wear them as is. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but he WILL wear them.”
I took the glasses and dramatically placed them in my purse.
“Well, T.Puzzle, we better get home so you can go to your room.”
“Nooooooo, Mommy! I do wear them! I do wear them!”
And simple as that, he did.
Not five minutes later away from prying eyes, he was perfectly content and proud to wear his new ‘big boy’ glasses.
T.Puzzle sporting his new glasses just minutes after his adamant refusal.
So at this point, Mom sent herself to her room and will be refusing to come out until further notice.
