You know it's cold season (or that I have a cold) when every load of laundry out of the dryer comes with a shredded tissue. Oh people, I do try. Them tissues is sneaky! It's my fault really for always sticking them up my sleeve like my grandmother (or in my bra...or in my waistband. Not all pajamas have pockets, you know!)
I don't want you to get the idea that all I do is bitch about how unwell we are (we are) or ooooo! the kitchen is a mess again (it is) or the damn dog ate another lego (he did). Sometimes, even daily mind you, happiness and tender moments creep in and rear their pretty little misshapen heads. It's mostly when the child is QUIET and sleeping, but there they are never-the-less.
Sometimes when he is running around hell bent for leather chasing the dog or bouncing from couch to pile of pillows ass over teacup or composing his next great novel he yells out "Mom, guess what!" Because that is probably the fiftith time I have heard it the past hour I growl "What?????" or "What now????" or "Yeah?" And he yells, "I love you!", and continues on his merry way. That's when everything just stops for a second and there is silence in my brain and I suck in my breath. I never see it coming. It's not rare, just always unexpected. That's the moment when I am NOW. Everything goes tunnel vision and I have crystal clarity of that exact moment.
Every time I chelate him I sleep in his bed. I gave him my queen size so he has room to throw himself around nocturnally or jump his brains out during the daylight. This summer he started to be petrified of the dark and of being alone. This phase has yet to pass. So we spent night after night with him terrified running to my room or to the computer, depending on the time, in blind fear. After the first 4 years of his life (before the sensory therapy) with him not sleeping much at all and getting no sleep myself I was uninterested in revisiting this particular ELE, or extinction-level event. So I've been sleeping with him for months. I know, I am a terrible mother. As long as I sleep with him though I can usually sleep the WHOLE WAY through the night. That said, I don't care what you think. Sleep is My Preeeeeciousssss. So there. Anyway, he giggles almost every night in his sleep when he's not kicking and hitting me. It's amazing that I can't hear the alarm or phone when I'm sleeping, but the giggling wakes me right up enough to smile.
The other night I was laying with with my arm over him and the dog in between us. They were both sound asleep. It occurred to me how these are the beings that depend on me for their very lives. They trust me and need me. How special that makes me feel to be trusted with THEIR LIVES. What an awesome responsibility. What a reward to have that trust. The day to day grind of letting the dog out, combing the kid's hair, making his lunch, picking out his clothes, feeding the dog, etc. can be a real drag. When it is handed to you like a medal though as a job, as a reward, as a gift it is like the Nobel Prize...or like the medal Luke and Han got after blowing up the Death Star...or like...motherhood. Just amazing.
My poor kid. He doesn't know if he is coming or going. I plaster so much medicine on him four times a day he can't sit on his knees, scratch his face or roll over. We got issues. Thank you internet for knowing exactly what to do though! Let me preface this disgusting bit of info with saying that just because I have to clean the toilet with a screw driver or the kitchen looks like a meth lab we don't necessarily have hygiene issues. We've got six year old boy issues. Last year he got ringworm above his eyebrow. (No, it's not real worms. Google it.) He got it from Tae Kwon Do. That'll teach you to meditate with your head on the floor. So we got that cleared up with some Lotrimin after a few weeks and lots of circle band-aids. Then this summer he got it again inside his right arm. He had to wear a life jacket at the YMCA till he was able to swim. The same life jackets that every other dirty wet kid had on. The same life jackets that hang damp 24 hours a day on a rack. Plus he would wear his wet swim suit home without changing first. Did I mention this kid does not know how to dry himself off? No? So after more Lotrimin and Spiderman band-aids (so as not to RE-infect the general population) we got that cleared up.
At the beginning of the summer I noticed a skin tag like thing on his knee. Harmless, not itchy, not spreading anywhere wart-like dot minding it's own business. Since I had to spend lots of time on the internet searching up the original ringworm infection and what to do about it and then loads more time trying to diagnose my shingles (damn you, shingles!) I came across a picture of bumps on the knee like that. I just breezed by the info though because ours was not a problem...yet. So a few weeks ago I notice a few more skin tag thingees. Then last week I notice about TWENTY ...and one on THE OTHER KNEE. It jumped continents! We got a pandemic here!
So the internet tells me this is called molliscum contagiousum. (We've since renamed it goosebumps cause that's less "contagiousum".) It's common in little kids. It will clear up on it's own...in a year or TWO. You can go by the dermatologist and get it frozen off of sliced off. It's not itchy. It's contagious with open wound contact, like most things. Except it can spread...LIKE A PANDEMIC ON YOUR BODY. Okay, so the internet didn't say it like that. I read on a mothering board about just how it can spread. And after 20 pages or so of pictures AND HALF OF THEM WERE ON THE GENITALS I decided we had better do something. I don't want Monkey to have his genitals on the internet. I'm not being crazy overprotective Munchhausen mom here. There was one and then there were TWENTY. Believe me there were horror stories of scars and shunning amongst the kiddos on the message board.
So I made notes (on my iPhone!) and off we went to the health food store. Yes, you guessed it, everything smells bad. "Mom, I'm going to vomit!!!! What is that smell???" But we have been applying gross stuff four times a day and we have progress! Little bumps are gone and the big ones are soon on their way. He didn't bathe for four days because hot baths could make it worse. Shut up! Of course I washed him off in the meantime! Guess what doesn't help ringworm? Not Showering. So tonight as I tucked him in I notice a new dry patch above his eyebrow. F! F! F! It's back. So I grab the Lotrimin and we will nip this in the bud immediately. UNBELIEVABLE. He says to me "Mom. My forehead is itchy." I say, "I know, but that's not the ringworm spot." So have I turned him into a sissy? He's afraid to scratch himself? All I know is you will not be viewing his genitals on any online dermatological site. And don't hug your child to your breast like that. His shorts completely cover his knees because he is so hip (short.)
Lately I've been dreaming that I have a boyfriend. I saw an old boyfriend's picture the other day and now I've dreamed that he's my current boyfriend every time I go to sleep. Nothing racy, just that he IS my boyfriend. The whole time I'm dreaming I'm thinking, this is soooo complicated! I wonder if my brain is trying to tell me something? Just what would it be trying to tell me? It's time to look for a boyfriend or don't bother cause it's soooo complicated? To be honest there's no way I could have a boyfriend when I can barely get along with myself. How would anyone else be expected to manage? I've already been married, and it is soooo complicated. I was talking to an acquaintance that ask me if I had one. Which was a nice change because no one ever asks. I guess I'm just supposed to be this way. Of course maybe it's because I'm completely nuts and repulsive. I'd like to think it's just because I've already dated everyone worth dating. (Is that possible? Well, I dated alot once upon a time.) I will have to revisit this idea when I actually see someone that makes me think I am not, as feared, asexual. (Google it.)
Guess what's better than plain old ear plugs. My iPhone! I'm thinking of you and nothing else as I dance around the kitchen and scrub the counters. Blissful full volume "I can't hear you" silence.
You know, even Typhoid Mary had a mother. She would totally want you to check this out: