Kudos to you parents who remember the really hard stuff about your kids....like their birthdays down to the exact day and year they were born along with their birthing stats, or what antibiotic they took last and when and for how long. I just remember all the good stuff like how they very first thing I noticed about Dillon when they handed him to me is he had invisible eyebrows/eyelashes, and how Mabel was the exact opposite (
but they were both perfect in every way), and their favorite foods or (
hopefully) to bring water when we go out to the park. Every single time I sit down to fill out another dang patient portal to get Dillon in with a specialist or for therapy, I'm racking my brain all over again about the fine details in his life that everyone wants to know. "Is she really his mother?" they probably think. "If so, why can't she remember all these things about her kid?" I think I'm just going to create a resume for him and then tattoo it to his back, like that girl in the movie Waterworld.
When I'm not arguing with our insurance company or making one hundred other phone calls to try and utilize as many recourses for Dillon as possible, I'm making sure to hardwire the most important memories into my brain; the memories of my kids being kids.
Toddlers and preschoolers. They are their own species; a fun and very confusing set of alien-mammals
.......maybe even more confusing than men find women to be. I mean, I think everyone is familiar with the whole saying "no" when they mean "yes" thing.........But sometimes they’ll do anything just to spite you, like scream for "Marshall" pull-ups when you try to put on the "Chase" pull-up, and when you grab the "Chase" pull-up scream for the "Marshall" pull-up.........or add a "no" to your "no" to make a "no no", and when you repeat it, adding another negative to make a "triple no". This of course, always means "yes"....or "maybe".....or "no".....or "I'm too tired to know what I want", and as their parents, you're just somehow suppose to know the answer while remaining a stoic rock solid voice of reason.
......even though the inside you is slowly curling up into fetal position.
And then there are the sweet times with a twist of grossness, like when you’re outside scooping up all the dog poop with the popper scooper so your kids can run as wild and free as a kid can be in a metro-yard in the fresh air without stepping in feces and your son runs up to you and says, “Here you go mommy. I found one!” and hands you a handful of dog turds.......to which you do your best to hide your horror and gently reply,” Thank you, sweetie. That was very helpful and thoughtful. Now let’s go wash your hands and don’t touch ANYTHING. Poopoo is yucky, “ treading carefully not to crush his spirits or discourage his help
......and thank your lucky stars that at least it wasn't fresh!
And let's not forget their constant state of denial until it's compellingly urgent, like realizing they are the living-breathing-tiny-versions of that snicker's commercial "You're just not you when you're hungry." Or lately our boy has been literally bouncing off the walls before bed (
no matter how much gross motor play we do during the day) and when either of us finally get him to sit in the rocking chair he dramatically yells, “My eyes!” as he rubs his fists into them and we say, “They’re burning because you’re so tired,” and he is in REM sleep about 15 seconds later. And on the occasion that he crawls into bed with us in the wee hours of the morning, I'm awoken to, "ROOOOAAAARRR. Shark monster!" which is startling, but still preferred over the sound of an alarm clock.
How in the world are we suppose to know how to handle every situation?!?!? A couple of weeks ago, Dillon fell asleep on the couch while I was still at work. Patrick, scared to wake him, took the opportunity to give Mabel a bath and start putting her to bed, and when I got home, that boy was still sound asleep. We diligently debated all angles of waking him up verses letting him sleep and ultimately decided to gamble with everyone's night by transferring him to bed, fully clothed and all, crossing our fingers for the best. Ahhh, we were so close to waking him, in fear that if we didn't, he would wake up at 2 am from a great nap, ready to rumble..........but as luck would have it, he slept the entire night!!!!
Maybe the most confusing part about being a parent is the lacking of individualized owners manuals for each child, since they're all completely unique.......and within themselves react differently to every situation based on their unstable moods. What would the manual be called? "Instructions for what MIGHT work during impossible situations. Full disclosure: As fore-mentioned, we called it an impossible situation for a reason because their frontal lobes aren't fully developed yet and there's nothing you can do about it."
But that's what makes it an adventure, right? It's like they say, "It was no mistake that God made them cute." And it's also probably why they invented Yoga and wine.
Posts
