Tidbits

Blogging is like laundry. The longer you wait to do it, the more overwhelming it is. I’m sure all of you have been hanging on by a thread wondering what I’ve been doing since eating popsicles in the last post. Well, I can tell you. Eating popsicles. Or toaster struedels, or Halloween candy, or bagel bites, or whatever else is not delicious and still left in my house from first trimester. Blech. I will be so excited when these things are gone and don’t tempt me. Whatever possessed me to buy three boxes of Bagel Bites I don’t know. Anyway, here are a few things that I’ve learned since our last post.
– Sam has asthma. And Mom has anxiety. Okay, we all knew that. Three times in the 24 hour dr/hospital stay, someone told me they were more worried about me than Sam. And keep in mind several of these times Sam was receiving oxygen. I should be insulted, I know.
– Ambulance rides are not covered by insurance. I will spare you the gory details except by saying if you can put the bill in terms of what fraction of your YEARLY – yes YEARLY income is, it’s scary.
– Normal days are beautiful. My friend Lauren posted a very long time ago a poem called “Normal Day.” Lauren if you’re reading can you find that? That really came to life in the hospital and doctors’ offices. If you are having a day where you are worried about the dryer that doesn’t dry clothes in one cycle, or how your husband is late, or that your kid spilled powdered sugar on the floor after you just mopped it, or how a nap was too short – CONSIDER YOURSELF BLESSED. Normal is beautiful. I promised myself if Sam and I were home sweet home and better, I would never again complain. about anything. This sort of helped regarding the next point:
– Potty training has a bad rap. As long as you are prepared to not leave your house for three weeks (this is literal. I think we got the mail finally on day 3), as long as you realize there will be pee on every square inch of your living room carpet, that you will not be able to stop eating Dora treats even though you feel horrible afterwards, that just when you think you are getting somewhere you’ll have a day like today with three accidents and three complete outfits to wash, and that you may have to endure Thomas videos every half hour on the hour to keep the bladder moving – as long as you can do that, it’s fine. Sam is a good learner, honestly. It could be way worse.
– Church gets progressively more unfun as your child gets older. In the old days of church, I cuddled my Starbucks taking notes with a swirly pen in a spiraled journal while listening to the sermon. Afterwards I went out to lunch and then took a nap. These days, I feel like I’ve won (or lost) a bull fight by the time we get home. A literal bull. Oh wise muse of the blogs, how – oh how – do you make it through the child-rearing decade teaching your children what worshipping God looks like, while somehow absorbing any part a the sermon, all the while refraining from teary breakdowns in public?? How?? I feel the answer probably has to do with Cheerios. But that’s all I’ve got.
– When people reference “the terrible twos,” it’s possible they actually refer to the the 17 1/2 month mark. I just want to give everyone a heads up, in case you are wired like me. When your child acquires a will, it often looks like an impending headcold, a bizarre side effect of a medicine, a serious internal organ problem, or a dark emotional trauma. What I mean is, it’s hard to believe your child could be THAT bad without help. But it is possible. Reference below a conversation that occured between my mom and me.
Me: Mom, there’s something wrong with Sam. He hasn’t been himself all day, and now he’s crying, hysterically, in his crib. Something is wrong. I think it’s the medicine.
Mom: No, I don’t think that’s it. I think he’s fine. I think he doesn’t want to go to sleep.
Me: That’s not possible. If you could hear him crying, it’s awful. something is really wrong.
Mom: Put the phone up to the door.
(pause – I obey.)
Mom: He’s fine. He’s forcing himself to cry.
Me: (crying) Are you sure.
Mom: Yes.
Me: (still crying) Well listen. If you are absolutely positively sure that I don’t need to take him out of the crib and to the doctors right now, then I will trust you. But if he dies or something goes horribly wrong, it’s on your head.
Mom: (laughing) I am sure.
Folks, unfortunately, I did not embellish this conversation. Sure enough, Sam woke up happy, ate a popsicle, played in the sandbox and…threw a similar tantrum when he couldn’t watch Thomas. It’s a relief, but, man, things sure get interesting past the nursing, Boppy, mashed up babyfood stage. They really do:)