Happy Birthday Robby

Dear Robby,

Nine years ago today I was admitted to the hospital in preparation of your birth. To say that I was scared was an understatement. Utterly petrified might be a more apt description, but even that doesn't quite sum up the emotion. I had no idea what to expect when you were eventually born the following afternoon.

You see Robby, you were my first.  You were the first baby I held with the knowledge that I was completely responsible for your every need (at every hour as you would constantly remind me during the first 8 months of your life.) You were the first person that ever caused me to fall hopeless in love. I instinctively surrendered my heart the moment I held you on my chest.

Watching you grow into the wonderful person that you are today has been one of the greatest joys of my life. Sometimes I peer around the corner and spy you playing, perplexed about how the years have flown since I first held you. The world sees a quirky, complex and interesting nine year old boy. My reflections run deeper because when I watch you play, I can still see the baby I held and the unsure toddler taking his first steps. I remain astonished that I am part of somebody so incredible.

You are loved beyond words, and your Daddy and I remain so proud of you. You have flourished this year as you have embraced being a big brother and pushed yourself academically. I know that it hasn't always been easy, but you are strong and never give up for long.

I love listening to you practice the piano and reading your Minecraft books. You love fishing and have aspirations of becoming a gold miner. You see the world as nothing but possibilities and challenges, a perspective I envy. 

No matter how busy my afternoon becomes, I am always looking forward to picking you up from school. I truly love spending time with you, whether we be playing or just talking. I love you, and I hope that you have a wonderful birthday.

Happy 9th Birthday to my whimsical, funny, loving, empathetic and smart little Koopa. 

I

Sick Hamlet

After the turn of events yesterday, I almost feel guilty for detailing the grosser underbelly of being a parent. Little Hamlet woke up not feeling well. As the day progressed, the fever I attributed to teething began to rise quickly.  By noon he was running 103 despite my alternating tylenol and ibuprofen to bring relief. 

Although I love and trust our pediatrician, I feel as if she did not take my concerns seriously when I called. She didn't seem overly concerned with his fever or with the fact that he was rubbing and pulling at his ears. She attributed the fever to the shots she administered a full seven days earlier. Only because I pushed the issue was I granted an appointment for the next morning. 

Almost as soon as I hung up the phone with her, my Mom instincts kicked into high gear. I knew that something was wrong, and that waiting would be detrimental. Despite her request to just ride it out, I packed up Timmy and headed to our local walk-in Urgent Care center.

By the time the nurse examined Timmy, his temperature had risen to 104.2. He was a hot, sweaty, lethargic, and a miserable little mess! Thankfully it didn't take long for the doctor to diagnosis the problems.  Timmy has infections in both ears as well as strep throat. His ear drum on his left side was so swollen that it was on the verge of rupturing. 

After a lengthy consult with another doctor in the office, it was decided that I would be allowed to take him home. If his fever rose any higher or did not come down with the tylenol/ ibuprofen protocol, I was to take him to the hospital immediately. Wow, those parting words were a far cry from "it's probably his shots; try to not worry."

Last night I curled into a SuperMario sleeping bag on the floor in front of Timmy's crib, but there was little slumber for me. Within moments of settling in, I became acutely aware of my age. I am too old to sleep on the floor! This morning my back and neck feel like they have been beaten and I am exhausted from a lack of sleep. However, it is all worth it because I knew that he was safe and that I was close should he need me.

I am so thankful that I trusted my Mom gut over the doctor's advice. Timmy's temperature remained high through the night, but he is on antibiotics and hopefully on the mend. Hopefully he will be able to spend the day napping and recovering. If my schedule wasn't full of conference calls and meetings, I would join him!

Gross

I adore my boys and love being a Mom.  I try not to get hung up on the little things and to stay in the moment as much as possible.  Even when the moment is frustrating or exhausting, I know that these times are fleeting. It seems like only yesterday I was rocking and putting Robby to sleep in his crib.  Now my big Koopa wipes off my kisses of his cheek as soon as I turn my head.

Despite trying to live in the moment, sometimes being a parent is just plain hard.  Yesterday, if I would have been asked to sum up my day in one word, I could have answered quickly and emphatically.  It was absolutely disgusting.

My day into the underside of parenting began with wiping long green boogies out of Timmy's nose in the morning, a gesture for a one year old that apparently is akin to being beaten. He would prefer the boogies smear across his face and drip into his mouth. I am beginning to worry that he views his nose as a portable snack machine because of the eagerness of his licking when they begin to drip.  Ick!

Robby seemed to have a good day at school and was happily chatting on the drive home. All of a sudden his mood changed and an aura of worry washed over his little face. When I asked him what was wrong, I heard the sentence every Mom has come to fear. "I thought I had to toot, but I was wrong. I think I need to change my underwear." Needless to say, the rest of the drive was rather odoriferous. 

Throughout the day Timmy and I continued to fight the boogie battle and added some smeared poop into the mix to break up the monotony.  I was changing Timmy's diaper when I saw Scott's car turn into the driveway. He arrived just in time because Hamlet took the full advantage of his diaper-free moment by peeing all over my shirt.

Dinner time was particularly fun, when Hamlet spontaneously vomited his peas. The floor, the dining room table, and of course me, were all thoroughly doused with the warm and gooey concoction.  It was particularly ripe because the peas were served during his lunch nearly 6 hours earlier.

As soon as I cleaned everything and returned to the table, Robby proudly showed me his finger. "Look Momom. This boogie looks like the state of Texas." His treasure turned out to be the world's best appetite suppressant. 

I love my boys, but sometimes taking care of them can only be described as disgusting.  As soon as I tucked Timmy into his crib I hopped into a hot bath and thoroughly disinfected myself. I then sat down to eat my dinner which at this point consisted of ice cream cake and a few Hershey Kisses.

Anxiety

After a wonderful weekend, I was surprised to wake up at dawn experiencing an anxiety attack.  Although they are nothing new to me, they have greatly increased in frequency since my hysterectomy.  This morning's episode was rather intense, prompting me to send a note to my doctor.

I hate feeling anxious, especially when the cause is not known. It is such an overwhelming and helpless feeling, as if everything is spinning out of control and I have no ability to regain my composure. Logically I can know that none of this is true. However in the throws of an anxiety attack, logic is of little consequence.

After an hour of deep breathing and trying to clear my head, I am feeling calmer. As I write about the feelings I can sense them starting to return, so perhaps it is best if I just try to push it out of my mind and forget about it. Anxiety is such a weird beast!

During my meditation attempts, I was hit with waves of grief. Although I had a great time with my Mom, Sunday was a difficult day for me. The Indy 500 was so special to my Dad. He adored auto racing, and anticipated the race like a young child waiting for Christmas. I was surprised by the overwhelming sense of loss I felt, and worked throughout the day to keep it at bay. In retrospect, perhaps allowing myself to cry would have been more beneficial. 

Today will be busy, which perhaps is a good thing. With the end of the school year approaching quickly, and Robby's birthday on Saturday, my to-do list is growing. Hopefully Timmy will cooperate today by allowing me to knock a lot off of the list. I suspect if my to-do list were smaller, my anxiety would lessen.

Productive Weekend

Happy Memorial Day!

The boys and I spent the weekend visiting my Mom while Scott enjoyed some much needed bachelor time at home.  Yesterday was Scott's favorite day of the year, filled with non-stop auto racing.  The first lap ran at 6 AM and the festivities didn't end until 11 PM. Needless to say, I felt comfortable leaving him alone with his TV, safe in the knowledge that we would probably not be missed.

Although the weekend wasn't particularly restful, it was extremely productive.  I was able to help my Mom with her lengthy to-do list.  I'm leaving happy, knowing that we accomplished almost everything that has been frustrating her.

From laying down mulch to fixing bicycles, I was a Peggy of all trades.  Robby was moderately helpful, although he was content relaxing inside with his Nana. To my surprise, he asked to stay an extra day because he was having so much fun.

My sister and her brood moved in with my Mom over two years ago, but this weekend they were all off on different adventures.  This visit was reminiscent of our time before her family moved into the house. I think Robby quite enjoyed the quiet and not having to share his Nana.  My Mom and Robby spent a lot of time playing outside, giggling and talking. It was only while they were playing that I realized it has been a long time since they interacted in that manner.  Robby even noticed, grinning from ear to ear and remarking that it was like the "good old days." 

We are heading home today, and back to reality tomorrow.  Summer vacation is peeking around the corner, so close we are counting down. This weekend was a great kick start to the Summer of Awesome II. 

Correction

Apparently my benign little blog, designed to only demonstrate that life after limb loss can be wonderful and fulfilling, has been causing a stir. I need to take this opportunity to clarify, and to hopefully heal some hurt feelings.

Writing a blog is an egocentric endeavor. I primarily write about my experiences, and interactions with those around me. If somebody is omitted from a story it is not meant as a slight. In order to write a blog everyday, sometimes I need to abbreviate the stories so that I can fit them into a readable format.

Also, blogs are not always published in a chronological order. Sometimes, such as when either I or one of my kids are sick, I will publish a pre-written but previously unpublished post. These posts tend to chronicle previous experiences but address real emotions.

Keeping a few stories and experiences "in the can" has helped me manage the pressures of work, my family and my blog. Some days my life is simply too hectic, or exhausting, for me to sit down and write. This is especially true when one of my kids are sick, when I am traveling, or when I am juggling many projects against a deadline.  Because of the pressures of trying to publish a daily blog, I have found that keeping some drafts on hand has reduced the stress involved.

 I try to be specific about the people I include in my post. When nobody specific is named, I caution against making assumptions about people, places or situations. Typically posts that do not include specific identifiers is an indication that the story was published from my prepared archives.

Any implications that may have been assumed because of the timing of one of my posts published from "the can" are regrettable. My son did not have a reaction to cinnamon in Ohio, it occurred at a different time. In an exhausted state I attempted to piece together a series of previous experiences while weaving current information. I apologize for the confusion, and for the perceived accusations.

Breathing Treatments

This has been the first morning that I have felt a sense of optimism that Timmy is turning the corner fighting his little cold. He has been coughing and dealing with a green runny nose for weeks and, despite our best efforts, nothing was helping. Coughing during the day is one thing, but his constant hacking all night was beginning to border on torturous for all involved.

Yesterday he went to the doctor who prescribed a series of breathing treatments. Initially I was upset that the treatments were warranted, but I also knew that in the realm of things that could be "wrong" with my child, this was minor.  I quickly realized that his little body needed help, and and was hopeful that these breathing treatments would work. 

Holding the little mask up to his mouth last night saddened me, but Timmy was a trooper. His fears were quickly redirected by his big brother sitting next to him, reading him a book.  Thankfully the treatment was not nearly as traumatic as we had feared.

Yielding results that were almost magical, Timmy slept through the night without coughing! He woke up this morning happy and energetic. I feel a sense of relief that we have finally found something to help my little Hamlet.