In case you were wondering what raising a boy is like

January 25, 2008

“Mom.  MOM.  MOM.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Dere’s bad guys.”

“Bad guys?”

“Yes.  Dere is bad guys in da house.”

“Oh no.  What’re you gonna do?  Are you gonna call Spiderman?”

“No.  Me will SHOOT dem.  Wif my big GUN.”

“Oh, okay.  Just don’t get any blood on the carpet.”

“Okay.  Me won’t.”

(Plastic, toy shotgun with “real” sounds:  Bang!  Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!  Bang!  Bang!)

“Me SHOT dem!”

“You did?”

“Yes.  Me shot dem wif my GUN!”  (Pause, then…)  “Oh no!  Is ANUDDER bad guy!”

Bang!  Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!

“Me got him.”


Her Mother’s Daughter

May 29, 2007

Drama Queen, mischievously:  Mom, you know what makes you such a great mom?

LadyBug, warily:  What’s that?

DQ, grinning:  A kid like me.

LB, giggling:  You know what makes you full of baloney?

DQ, checkmating:  A mom like you.

In the past three months…

November 28, 2006

…we’ve made four trips to the E.R. – one in September for Miss Attitude’s sprained ankle, and three in this month alone: two visits – two weeks apart – to the local E.R. for Deputy Dad’s kidney stone troubles (documented here and here), and one to the E.R. in [larger town an hour away, where we go for shopping and doctor visits] for Miss Attitude’s chest x-ray, which confirmed her pneumonia diagnosis.

In the last two months, we’ve made seven trips to the pediatrician’s office (in [larger town]) and one trip (this afternoon) to Miss Attitude’s pediatric pulmonologist.

Also in the last two months, we’ve filled seventeen prescriptions for the kids (2 for The Drama Queen, 3 for SuperBoy, 12 for Miss Attitude (a.k.a. Princess Asthma)) and six prescriptions for Deputy Dad and his stoned kidneys.

At this point, I’m about as drained as my bank account is.

And yet…

Standing in the pulmonologist’s office this afternoon, I perused the pictures of pediatric patients filling the bulletin board behind the front desk.  At first glance, it was a collage of smiling children.  As I studied it closer, though, I noticed several children with obvious signs of Down’s Syndrome.  Some of those children – and a few others – were also living with tracheotomies, drawing each breath through a tube in their necks.  I saw other children whose growth had been adversely affected from a lifetime of respiratory steroid use.

As we were waiting our turn to see the pulmonologist, two children (from two different families) came out of the exam rooms in wheelchairs; both had tracheotomies, both were severely handicapped.

One more inspection of the bulletin board, and I noticed a newspaper clipping.  Oh, I thought, one of the patients must have made the news, participating in a school or community function.  I was instantly nauseated when I realized the clipping was an obituary notice.  A young girl – fourteen years old – had lost a battle with cancer.  I thought about that girl, about her parents, her family.

It’s so easy to feel so discouraged, so burdened, so…overwhelmed when the kids have been sick and the husband’s been sick and things just aren’t going well at all.  But…my GOSH, how very blessed I am.

Yes, Miss Attitude has asthma.  But it’s treatable.  And she’s never been hospitalized for it (knock on wood).  And her pediatrician and pulmonologist work together (with us) to take excellent care of her.

Yes, SuperBoy has a speech delay.  But we’re getting help for that NOW, rather than waiting until he’s in school.  And yes, the progress is so. very. slow.  But, still.  It’s progress.  And even though he doesn’t say a lot of words, he communicates very well, and his comprehension is excellent.  And he’s smart as a whip, that little guy.

And Deputy Dad’s kidney stones are treatable.  And we’re dealing with The Drama Queen’s Issues (which I don’t blog about, but still.  They are there.  The Issues.).  And even though we’re flat broke, we have so much more than so many others.

It occurs to me now that this entry may not be making much sense, so I’ll try to sum it up…

What I really mean to say is this:  Suddenly, today, I remember how very lucky – how very blessed – I am.  And I just wanted to share that with you.

“Love is not consolation. It is light.” — Nietzsche

November 25, 2006

Even the smallest light permeates the darkness.

Last week, in the midst of my stressing and worrying, The Drama Queen and Miss Attitude unexpectedly surprised me with this keychain, purchased with their own money, and without my knowledge:


They called it an “early Thanksgiving present.”  I called it a flicker of light.

A time for thanks

November 23, 2006

SuperBoy awoke early this morning, so I brought him to bed with me.

Thank you, God, for morning snuggles with my son.

When we made our way out of bed and into the kitchen, The Drama Queen and Miss Attitude were getting their breakfast.

Thank you, God, for blessing my children with healthy, working bodies.

I worked in the kitchen, making pies and green bean casserole, cleaning up as I went.

Thank you, God, for running water, for electricity, for food and two good hands to prepare it.

As I was getting dressed, I could hear the kids fighting and yelling at each other and the puppy yelping.

Thank you, God, for Zoloft. 

We drove to Deputy Dad’s parents’ house for lunch.

Thank you, God, for our car, for our small town, for our family.

Throughout the day, I whispered prayers for Susie, for CircusKelli and her grandparents, for Kit as she recovers from surgery, and for Deputy Dad and his upcoming surgery.

Thank you, God, for my online friends, who make me laugh and cry daily.

The girls are spending the night with the in-laws tonight, and Deputy Dad and I are preparing to go to bed.

Thank you, God, for my warm bed and for the strong embrace of my sweet husband, the most caring and understanding man I know.

Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father
There is no shadow of turning with Thee
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be

Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

–from Great is Thy Faithfulness, lyrics by Thomas O. Chisolm

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  God bless you and those you love.


November 12, 2006

You rest your head on my chest, one hand twisting my hair ’round and ’round your finger and the other holding onto your best stuffed friend. As I sing your lullaby, your eyelids and your body get heavier and heavier. I rest my cheek on your head, bury my nose in your hair, and selfishly wish I could stop the passage of time, stop you from growing up and away from me, stop you from hurtling toward independence.

I listen to the sound of your breathing, smile at your snoring, marvel at your peacefulness. I know I should put you in your bed, but I just want to savor the moment…just a bit longer.

You turn, and your forehead rests against my chin now. You’ve let go of your stuffed friend, but still hold tightly to my hair. I stroke your cheek, nuzzle your hair, pat your back. Your head moves up and down, up and down, with the motion of the rocking chair.

I know too soon you’ll not need Mama to rock you and sing to you, so I’m holding onto this moment with all my might.

How to brighten an otherwise dull work day

November 7, 2006

1. Play with a puppy during your lunch hour.

2. Repeat daily, as needed.

Note: It helps if the puppy is (a) irresistibly adorable and (b) so happy to see you that he nibbles your ear lobes and dances figure-eights around and through your ankles.