Summertime Blues

Ahh…my summer is slipping, slipping, slipping away.

The stores are full of back to school supplies.  I’m planning back to school meetings.  I’m working on back to school things and trying to fit some summer things into my rapidly shrinking vacation.

Last weekend, Ismael’s mother paid for us to travel to Washington, DC.  In three days’ time we spent 24 hours in the rental car which was approximately the size of a sardine can.  Adam kicked me almost all the way there, but thankfully slept a lot on the way home.  He refused most food while we were there, existing on red Gatorade and crackers.  I nearly jumped for joy when he ate a banana.  He fought with his cousins, disobeyed every rule I set, was pulled from the stairs no less than 25 times, and became even more obstinate about taking his medicine completely missing one dose.

Yesterday, after he spent the morning beating my niece here at home….

I know you had this chair first...but I sit with you....

Because if I sit here, I can push you out of the chair...

...and play the bongos on your head...

... and put you in an attempted headlock.

… having three time outs, two placements in bed, and finally one very early banishment to nap (for serious hitting, not like the pics above), I lowered his medication dose last night by 50 mg from 200 mg to 150 mg twice a day.  I double checked the side effects, and even though they are low probabilities, he has been experiencing cough (which disturbs his sleep and keeps him up for hours at night), anorexia (in a toddler?), and aggression (in some as the neurologist put it).

Today, after the first full night’s sleep in weeks, a three hour nap, and a full lunch and breakfast…

...aww c'mon... please show me your belly again so we can do another belly-bump-high-five.

What an enormous difference a day makes, eh?

I have really struggled these past few weeks knowing on one hand that almost two year olds can act like perfect little jerks and can be picky about foods and on the other that this child is simply not the child I’ve been watching grow.

When we sat down to dinner and he didn’t throw food, didn’t purse his lips shut tight, ate extremely well, and even happily tried strawberries for the first time, I allowed myself to have a glimmer of hope that tomorrow will not be as frustrating as the past few weeks.

Posted in Because I'm the mama., The Little Urchin | 2 Comments

It’s all about making good choices, kids.

Strangely, as I looked around the Barnes and Noble parking lot this afternoon, I was the only one wrestling a toddler on the trunk of her car, to use the last of her diaper wipes to clean his face of shredded wheat bits, before going in to play at the free train table for twenty blissful minutes.

What’s up with that?  Am I the only good mom in this town? I mean really, isn’t this what good moms do?  Publicly tackle and clean their children before taking advantage of local culture?

Yes, I thought so.

Last time mom and I took him to the train table, thinking he would play while we sipped coffee and chatted, it was a disaster.  He bolted about seventeen times and I knocked my chai latte over on the previously clean floor.  Do you know how hard it is to locate paper towels in Barnes and Noble?  Just look around next time you go.

Today though, he played joyfully for what seemed like forever, lining up the cars, pushing them through the tunnels and happily exclaiming “wheeee” as the train went down the hills.  For my part, I tried to relax and just enjoy the peace and to ignore the very pricey Thomas trains on the wall behind my son.

And then the stench.  I had briefly entertained the thought of calling Ismael at work to ask him if he changed a dirty diaper today, so I would know what I was in for this evening.  But who does that? Call her husband, at work, about poop.   Yuck.

I wish I had.  We might have avoided the train table all together or made better choices than to have used ALL of my available diaper wipes on his face prior to entering the store.

We made our way to the front where I hoped to make a quick purchase but failed miserably when I encountered the BN employee who wanted not only to tell me about their member program but also enter my email address (even though they already have it) into her computer.  Gah.

I felt like letting her in on the fact that I had a fully loaded toddler trying to escape from the jail I had made for him with my knees, effectively pinning him against the wall, while I tried to wrap this transaction up as fast as possible, to avoid picking him up and plopping him on her counter. (That is a master of run-on sentences.  You are welcome.)

“I have a loaded toddler here.  Don’t make me use him.  And give me all the cash in your register.”

That possibly may have been a poorer choice than publicly running myself out of wipes.

Posted in The Little Urchin | 4 Comments

Silent Nights of Wonder

Last night I crept into your room, hoping to check on you without waking you.

I often do this.  Come look at you while you sleep with a mixture of fear, relief, and joy.


When I lay you down at night, I imagine how comfortable and secure you must be.  Freshly bathed.  Clean jammies.  Your bed where you have slept most of your life; where you feel safe.  I make sure you have your loveys and pacie and kiss you good night.

And when I come back, I gaze at you and place my hand ever so lightly on your back.  I wait, almost breathless myself, just long enough to feel the movement of your breathing, reassuring myself that you are indeed sleeping peacefully.

I wonder if I will ever walk into your room at night again and not fear that I will find you having a seizure. I wonder if I will ever forget the image of your face the times I have found you in bed having convulsions.  I wonder if I will ever feel at peace again.

Posted in The Little Urchin | 1 Comment