My Baby Is Growing Up

When I think about how there are only 4.5 weeks left of school, I feel a bit sick. I want to take time, slow it down, savour it. Every week seems to rush past in a blur of routine, sporting and after-school activities, and weekends that pass in a blink of an eye. It really feels to me like last month we were just starting the school year. I'm really in a daze that another one is coming to an end. 

My oldest, R, is eleven. Well, eleven and three quarters really. I can't bring myself to think about him turning twelve, then - GASP - thirteen! 

When I think of how he'll be graduating to high school this time in two short years, my eyes well up with tears. I don't know how I'll ever make it through that ceremony. I'll be a mess, I just hope I'm not going to be the only mom bawling uncontrollably, and I certainly hope I won't embarrass him. 

R is such a great kid.  I don't think I sing his praises enough. He's cooperative, helpful, patient, kind, and most of all, so smart. He's pretty much a straight A student, which as I'm seeing with L's struggles with his studies, is quite an achievement in this school! I take it for granted too much that he just does his homework without being asked, he studies for tests, and comes home telling me he has an A on yet another test. 

And now, he has reached another milestone. My baby boy now wears deodorant. Taking him out shopping to find a scent he liked seemed like such a huge thing for me. It reminded me of when my mom took me out for my first bra (even though I really didn't need one). 

Every day that I'm frustrated and sick of the daycare business, I just need to remind myself of how it allows me to spend more time with my two guys than if I was working a 9-5 (or similar) job. 

Just When You Think It's Getting Better, Reality Smacks You In The Face

Today was a tough day for L. He wasn't feeling well last night; he had a tummy ache which led him to believe he was going to throw up. Since this past winter, when he had a stomach bug twice (and never had one ever before that!) he's terrified of throwing up. So of course, being the vicious circle that it is, he convinces himself he's going to be sick, which actually does lead to him being very nauseous, even if he never was going to be sick in the first place. 

So today he got to stay home from school, since he insisted that his stomach still hurt. I figured he could use the day off to work on a project he has to do. 

But I think he really was fighting something. Not because of his physical symptoms (of which there were few) but because of his emotional ones. He gets very mopey, and anxious, and weepy. He managed to keep hurting himself (minorly, but still, to him it's big) and that continued on through the evening. By the end of the night, he was weeping in his bed. He said he was sick of the day, of hurting himself, and that if he just stayed in bed nothing else bad would happen to him. Neither DH or I could convince him to come downstairs to watch the rest of a movie we had started a few days ago. L kept saying things like, if I go downstairs I'll probably fall down the stairs, and when I suggested he hold my hand and we go slowly he then said what if I fall then and take you down? 

This is classic anxiety disorder. His brain is in flight mode, thinking up every possible bad scenario that could happen. The thing is, even though I knew what was happening, I was powerless to help him. I couldn't snap him out of it. DH tried too, to no avail. 

The night escalated. I tried several times to distract him, and could even get him to a point talking about something else that he was smiling. But as soon as I went to leave the room, it's like it all came back to him and the crying would start again. There were also the usual proclamations of him wanting to kill himself, which are surprisingly getting less shocking. I feel like that's not such a good thing. I fear I'll not take him seriously the day he decides he is serious. 

Nothing I did, nothing I tried or thought of would work tonight. I found myself wishing desperately for a syringe filled with a sedative so I could just put him to sleep. 

It's a tough thing as a parent to hear your child cry, but even harder to try every trick you know that used to work, and every new trick that you can think of but still have nothing you do console him. You feel powerless. You feel helpless. And a little bit like a failure. 

My heart aches for him. As I'm sure any parent watching their kid suffer in pain feels, I'd do absolutely anything to endure it for him. 

He's quiet now, finally, and I'm going to check in on him. My own anxiety has me thinking of all sorts of horrifying scenarios for the reason that he is quiet. I must prove to myself now it's because he's finally sleeping. 

Tomorrow's a new day. And hopefully a happier one. 

Happy Mother's Day

Dear DH

I know I'm not your mother, but I sure take on all the mothering responsibilities when it comes to you. I mean, I cook for you, I clean for you, I wash your clothes, put them away, and occasionally iron them. I keep the household running, keep all dates and appointments in mind, and make sure everyone gets where they need to be most of the time. 

So would it kill you to put in a little effort for Mother's Day? Ok, how about we rename it, "Female Authority Figure of the Household Day?" So that covers wife and mom. 

Don't get me wrong; I'm happy you washed some dishes (one small sinkfull). I'm happy you folded the laundry (that I collected, sorted, washed and dried). But you didn't make a meal, or even organize one. I was the one to suggest, decide upon, order, pay for, and then drive to pick up the Chinese takeout we had for dinner. You didn't get the kids organized to help out with some chores. R did vacuuming on his own, which was great, but L needs lots of prompting. You know that. 

All I wanted was a day when someone else would take over. So I didn't have to be the nagger, the reminder, the enforcer, the organizer. 

And you didn't step up. 

And now I'm stuck with the aftermath of having a day "off" - laundry, folded, but not even in a basket let alone put away. (You do remember I have small children here during the day, right? What do you think will happen to all that folded laundry all over the floor where they play?) - kitchen, a disaster - front hall, covered in dried mud - bathrooms, still filthy - the list goes on. 

Thanks for a memorable day.

I'll be sure to remember this come June 16th.