Tag: parenthood

humor, marital blissishness, mommyhood, parenting

Breaking the Fast

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Mad Dog was scared when he walked in the door Friday night. I had reached my limit of patience with the boys. I had Full Speed upstairs screaming in his room because he had repeatedly run over T.Puzzle with a rather large, blue Lego truck. I was on my way back downstairs when I saw Mad Dog’s silhouette through our glass door. I walked forcifully to the door and opened it with much anger. Of course I wasn’t angry at him or the door. I was frustrated with Mommyhood.

Mad Dog cautiously stepped over the threshold and commented that it looked like I was ready to stab him. I resent that because at the time, I wasn’t even holding a knife. Mad Dog was puzzled why I was so on edge. He figured because I only had Full Speed for the day as T.Puzzle was in school (and Full Speed had visited Grandma for a couple hours in the morning to give me a break), that I should be calm, cool and collected.

I could see his point. I could also see mine. Mine had more to do with the fact that the days surrounding Full Speed’s surgery had put me on such a heightened Mommy Mode that I was completely burned out. I liken it to that hyper-awareness you have with a newborn. It was as if my mental self had completely immersed itself into Full Speed. If he so much as hiccupped I had water, honey and a soothing hug to help him through it. Anything he needed I had for him. Anything he wanted I made sure he got. I did it partly because that’s what Mommy’s do. I also did it to ease his suffering going through so many complicated medical procedures and testing. I was exhausted.

I was frustrated too that Mad Dog wasn’t validating this experience. So, the next morning when it was time for breakfast, I was more than happy to let Mad Dog take over with the boys. Eventually, I heard a lot of chaos, crying and fighting so I went downstairs to investigate.

The boys and I have a solid routine for breakfast and they were voicing their displeasure that Mad Dog was doing it wrong. I was upset. Not because my boys are slightly OCD concerning routines, but because it is solely up to me to know the ins and outs of these routines. I’m the one who knows what kind of waffles they can and can’t eat (T.Puzzle is allergic to eggs so he requires a special brand), how many sausages they prefer (it’s two links) and that they always have a fresh side of fruit. I also make sure they have vitamins, have brushed teeth, are properly sun-screened, eye-glasses cleaned etc. Most of the time I handle these details with aplomb. However, this morning that was not the case.

Through this pandemonium I think it clicked for Mad Dog that our guys are certainly a handful. I think he noted the dazed and crazed look in my eyes, too. He graciously offered to let me have a break in the afternoon while he watched the Buckeyes with Grandpa and the boys (thank you, thank you!). I decided to go to a movie.

It was magical. I mean, the movie wasn’t great (Love Happens, I recommend renting it or watching it on pay-per-view on a rainy afternoon) but it was completely liberating. It felt like I could breathe for the first time in well over a week. I loved that it was dark, quiet and the only needs I had to care for were my own. I loved that the movie had decidedly feminine themes and was ladened with cheese.

I’m going to need to work on having more balance moving forward for Full Speed’s second surgery. Or Mad Dog may very well need to hide all of our knives until then.

eyesight, health, mommyhood, parenting, self-discovery

Eye Am Thankful

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So far the result of Full Speed’s surgery has been spectacular. It doesn’t seem real. I am having trouble imagining the possibility of much improved vision.

baby in glasses
Full Speed was first diagnosed with extreme myopia (which means he was off-the-charts nearsighted) when he was 20 months old. The subsequent journey and various doctor’s appointments from geneticists to surgeons has been a test of courage and faith. I have always held out hope in the back of my mind that his vision would be good (excellent even). I have prayed endlessly that he would have 20/20 vision. I have cried and then I have prayed some more. Eventually, I started to take my cues from Full Speed. He began eye-testing with letters when he was two years old. He handled every appointment (well, there were some deep in the heart of the terrible twos that I think I’ve blocked from memory) the best he could. As he matured, he came to respect doctors and followed their directions with ease. He is so comfortable in hospital/doctor office settings now it’s almost like doing anything else we might do during our day.

I also have learned to evaluate Full Speed’s condition based on his functioning. His functioning is awesome. He has mastered all his physical milestones and then some and is right on track intellectually. I began to realize that extreme myopia later diagnosed as ectopia lentis et pupillae with lens subluxation (dislocated lenses) looks pretty amazing if you ask me.

yellow belt kick

I had this strange moment when Full Speed was three years old and he was testing for his first Tae Kwon Do belt. As I sat in the testing room with family and friends I had this sort of out of body experience. I saw clearly for the first time that if all Full Speed was ever allowed was minimal vision, he was going to kick life in the ass and be a huge success. I learned a new prayer that day. The prayer was a thank you for the vision provided to my son for it is exactly what he needs to be who he is. That was the day I started to learn acceptance. I accepted his coke-bottle lenses whole heartedly (I mean come on, they are freakin’ adorable!). I accepted that regular eye check-ups (sometimes done under anesthesia) and doctor’s visits were a part of our lives. I accepted that while some of his eye care may be a challenge (patching his left eye on a daily basis), it’s just what we do.

Flash forward and here we are with another major eye surgery under our belts and on the cusp of much improved vision. I know whatever happens Full Speed will have exactly the amount of vision he needs to be whoever he will be (which is incredible in my slightly biased opinion). I will certainly be thankful if that is anywhere near 20/20 vision.

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health, humor, life in pictures, mommyhood, parenting

Well I Never!

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The surgery was a success. Full Speed’s right lense was removed and it went smoothly and quickly. We learn how much his vision has improved in the days and weeks to come. He handled everything beautifully.

Even though he was a champ, waking up from anesthesia was a bit of a challenge. The drugs can alter behavior and demeanor. That certainly was true for Full Speed.  Granted, he is a stubborn boy by nature, this took it one step farther.

He initially woke up yelling, “I WANT MY PATCH OFF OF MY FACE! I WANT THIS STUFF OFF MY ARM!” He wanted everything off from the patch to his IV immediately. He wanted to let the world know it, too. He looked at me with anger in his eyes and proceeded to successfully yank off his pulse/ox (a tiny contraption that is bandaged to your finger to measure your oxygen level). I managed to stop the yanking and pulling off of everything else, but the pulse/ox fell limp to the floor.

He yelled and yelled. He demanded and yelled some more. Mad Dog and I did our best to redirect. It only made him angrier.

I noticed (as Moms do) that it had been four hours since Full Speed had last used the facilities. The previous time he had emerged from surgery, he peed all over himself and all over me. Moms are pretty on top of things so I had extra clothes for him packed. For me I had nothing. I had to wear scrubs home. Of course Mad Dog thought that was kind of hot. I remember feeling exactly the opposite of hot in that moment.

I asked Full Speed, “Do you have to use the bathroom?”

“NO!” he responded.

“Do you want Mommy or Daddy to take you?” I said.

“I WANT NOBODY TO TAKE ME!”

“Sweetie, you need to use the bathroom….,” I say again. Before I finish my thought he shouts, “NO! I AM NOT GOING TO THE BATHROOM!”

Mad Dog tries to intervene. “Full Speed, you are going to the bathroom. Let’s go.”

He whips his head around and faces us both. He is clearly angry. “NEVER!”

He is never going to the bathroom again apparently. Someone find me some scrubs. Looks like I’m going to need them.

mommyhood, parenting

Spittin’ Mad

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JRI have to confess, this did not happen yesterday but the night before. When it happened, I already had my post completed, saved and had it ready to go for the next day. I didn’t realize I would have such a blog-worthy evening with Full Speed. Lucky, lucky me.

I mentioned that he was slightly out-of-control at the doctor’s for his physical and the subsequent activities that followed. It’s almost that he has forgotten that I am the one in charge. He is acting up and being very, very silly. I do enjoy silly as humor is the honey that gets you through life, but what he is doing is different. It feels class-clownish, disrespectful and spastic. I don’t like the overall vibe. I’m guessing he is feeling nervous about his impending surgeries and he is expressing it via goofy antics. Even though I know this intellectually, it doesn’t always sink in for me in the middle of one of his spastic attacks.

Mad Dog was with our handy-man getting to the bottom of our flooded garage (which is finished- I know, it’s a Florida thing). I took the boys upstairs to bathe them. Right off the bat Full Speed is running around naked jumping all over. He runs up to his brother, konks T.Puzzle on the head and darts away. Since I had already had more than my fill of this type of behavior, he is immediately and harshly punished. He’s not allowed to play in the bath and he is only in it for cleansing purposes. He does not get to wear his Daddy’s jersey to bed (Daddy’s jerseys are like the holy grail to Full Speed) and he has to wear baby pajamas instead.

Of course he loses it and screams and cries and says he’s sorry. He starts yelling “Mommy, I LOVE YOU!” in the most pathetic and dramatic way he can muster. I say, “That’s nice; you’re still going straight to bed.”

At this point he is out of the tub and realizes that sucking up to Mom is not going to work. So he goes the opposite direction (all the while running around completely nude) and shouts, “Mommy, I DO NOT like you. I DO NOT like you anymore.” At some point during this whole fiasco, he tries to spit at me. I can put up with a lot, spitting for some reason pushes my buttons beyond limits.

I manage to tackle him into submission and force a onesie on him. In T.Puzzle’s room I had managed to uncover this onesie that has Grumpy the dwarf on it. Both boys wore it when they were right around two years of age. It is clearly too small for Full Speed but I power it on him anyway to make my point. I can tell by now, he likes me even less than he initially thought. I pick out some too-small Cars pants and the lovely ensemble is complete. He looks like a mini-angry old man. It’s unintentionally funny. In the moment however, it is completely humorless.

He is boiling. I can almost see the steam coming from his ears. He tries again switching gears and goes the sweet route, “Mommy, I LOVE YOU! I’m SORRY!” His tone is now laced with desperation.

“I understand that Full Speed, you might have thought of that when you were making bad choices about your behavior. I appreciate it, but you are still going to bed and you are wearing what you are wearing.”

It’s on now. “Mommy, I DO NOT LIKE YOU!” he screams.

At this point, Mad Dog comes up and asks “What is going on up here?” He is curious to see the source of Full Speed’s bipolar state of mind.

He looks at Full Speed in his mighty-tighty pjs, looks at me (I’m guessing my expression said it all) and says, “You want me to put him to bed?”

Good call because I was spittin’ mad and I didn’t want to set a bad example.

humor, life in pictures, marital blissishness, parenting

A Chili Day for Football

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It was late in our day and we made the unfortunate decision to take the boys to Chili’s for dinner. It’s not that they were being bad, they were being themselves. I wasn’t tolerating their normal hyper state as well as I usually do. I mean by this point, I know full well what I am getting myself into when we are dining out with the boys. I couldn’t blame it on not knowing what to expect. I just wasn’t in the mood. Sometimes I’m like that. Lucky, lucky Mad Dog.

When I married Mad Dog, I also had full disclosure. I knew that realistically our weekends during football season would revolve around Buckeye games. I can’t complain about it or wish it away. It is what it is.

The part that trips me up is that not only do we have to watch the Buckeyes (and dress in Buckeye jerseys every time they have a game) but we have to watch a bunch of other meaningless (my opinion) games. I don’t understand why we have to watch the Arizona Cardinals simply because the former Buckeye, Beanie Wells, is on their roster. Or why we have to make sure USC is trampled so the Buckeyes reputation can be redeemable in the land of the BCS (I don’t even know what the BCS stands for, all I know is where the Buckeyes rank in the BCS determines the mood of my husband). Can’t we only watch a nice, tidy re-cap of all these other games when it is convenient? Granted, nothing is ever convenient when raising a family. Still, I am holding out for that dream.

So, there we were. Eating our incredibly healthy fried and cheese covered meals, and I’m not having it.  T.Puzzle is especially over-the-top. He keeps running his car along the wooden blinds which I tell him not to about forty-seven times. The blinds are dusty and unstable and I keep picturing the whole of them crashing on our table and the table behind us. He keeps on doing it. Then he grabs his napkin and puts it on my head and says, “Hat, Mommy, hat.” Yes, yes, I understand it’s adorable. Again, I just wasn’t in the mood.

Almost on cue as my frustration with T.Puzzle is rising, Full Speed announces he has to use the bathroom. Mad Dog and I knew this was coming. How, you may wonder? Well, Full Speed did ask us once we were seated and strapped in our car on our way to the restaurant if they had bathrooms at Chili’s. We tried to convince him to try to go at home. He said, no, he was just WONDERING if they had bathrooms. It was no wonder to us when he needed to use them.

As Mad Dog and Full Speed leave the table, T.Puzzle is upset. He wants to go with them and dives over me and lunges towards the floor. I manage to redirect him and again, he starts with the gross blinds and the car.

When Mad Dog and Full Speed return, I am now silently praying that our waitress will bring us our check. It’s clear the boys are on the edge. So am I. I feel pretty confident Mad Dog is clued in to the situation and I am relieved when he leaps up from the table. Good, he must be going to track down our waitress and the check.

Oh, no. Oh no he is not. He is animatedly jumping up because he can see the USC game and apparently something great is happening (as if I give a damn!). He does this to me two more times. Each time he jumps a tiny part of my heart is hoping he gets the check instead of the score. Never happened. Instead, I am forced to not so gracefully escort T.Puzzle  from Chili’s as he has reached a point of no return. Ah, football and tantrums, they apparently never go out of style.