I write so often about my boys...but don't pay enough attention, I'm afraid, to Brian.
A buddy of mine recently sent me an email forward of an article on how to treat your husband. It included a checklist of dos/don'ts...ways to diagnose whether or not you're the pefect, loving wife. Many of the items on the list made me wonder if there was a nationwide epidemic of loveless, unhappy marriages--or, more specifically, shitty wives. Because so many of the "dos" on the list were/are things I do on a daily basis.
1. Tell your husband you love him. Check.
2. Tell your husband you're proud of him. Check.
3. Brag about him to others. Check.
4. Laugh at his stories. Holy shit..Check!
And trust me, I don't think this separates me from anyone out there that I know...I'm not patting myself on the back for these things. I was just surprised to think that anyone would need reminding of such basic, decent, human behavior.
But then I got to the "don'ts"...and there were just a few that stuck out, but not in a good way.
1. Don't make fun of your husband to others/in public. Woops.
2. Don't get angry with him in front of others/in public. Woops.
3. Don't pick at the way he does things with the kids--ok, this one wasn't on the list, but it's one I feel guilty about all the time. So double Woops.
The making fun one is definitely something I'm guilty of...I think a lot of wives are, and honestly, the comments/narrative are often benign in nature. Just normal "mommy conversation", for example.
But sometimes I've been known to reference Brian's "Dungeons and Dragons" days in a way that is only funny to me...not to him. And I'll be honest--the fact that he used to play that shit in college really does make me scratch my head and want to call him a nerd. Because in so many ways, Brian is just dorky. But the thing is, I knew that when I met him...and knew it even better when I married him...because it's one of the things I first fell in love with about him, as it related to his innocence and genuine nature. There wasn't/isn't any pretense or "need to impress" with him.
But in the last few years, I've managed to let my pissed-offness about dirty dishes and messy clothes on the floor color my commentary on Brian when talking to others.
And the public-pissy-ness. Yikes. That's one that I always said I wouldn't do...and for the most part, I try to keep our discussions/arguments out of public view. But once in a while I let it be known how annoyed I am with him, particularly if I'm with a friend/family member who can relate when I'm in the moment.
So yes. I'm--shocker--not a perfect wife.
In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm a royal pain in the ass many days.
Why did I feel the need to purge myself on my blog today...I've no idea.
Perhaps it was that silly article.
Last night, after we watched The Office and 30 Rock, Brian and I sat on the couch, without the tv on, and just chatted about random junk. It was really nice, and I found myself feeling like a total space case for not having asked him more about his work lately. His promotion has been such a huge deal, and I've been more than supportive and congratulatory, but haven't taken the time to ask him if he's felt more stress from it. Seems he's handling it rather well and loving it, which is great.
The reality is, it's just so hard to find time for those conversations.
We went on a kid-free vacation a month ago, and still managed to have some of our best conversations over the past week, here in GR, and often on our spit-up-stained couch.
Funny that way.
I'm hoping that no one has actually gottent this far in today's entry...because if I were to be reading this on someone else's blog, I don't think I'd be able to stop throwing up.
Whatever.
Just love my Brian.
Guy takes quite a beating being married to me (hour long conversations about sports shows being on during dinner...so ridiculous), yet still manages to grab my ass as I'm walking out the door this morning for playgroup.
Love that.
Now, anyone know of a good article on how to treat your wife?
Sister needs to forward that one on...:)
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Benjamin.
What an incredible kid.
I absolutely love this child...and while it's impossible to be objective here, I dare say he's one of the most hysterical kids I know.
Miss Margaret's class was today and we had such a ball...made and painted our own apples with various forms of toddler media--his favorite, of course, was the paint. Thank heavens it was washable paint, though, as he decided to test out the glorious shade of red on his new pair of Merrells.
We also made our own applesauce, which was by far his favorite part of today's class..."Mommy! See apples in blender! Go, go, go apples!!"
But my favorite moment...easily my favorite moment, I'll add...was at the end of class.
A bit of background:
Brian and his sister Denise have, for years, always used this ridiculously funny voice whenever they say the name of their Aunt Barb. You know, just one of those silly sibling things you do...like quote certain movies. It's a relic from their growing-up years together, and with the addition of myself to the family, it's become a real staple in our fits of laughter together.
Here's how you say it: you draw your uppler lip down and under your teeth, do the same in reverse order with your lower lip...then press your mouth together real tight and blurt out "Bbbbarrrrrb!"....though it really sounds more like "Baaayyyyyaahhhrrrb".
Seriously? Sounds ridic. And it is...but it's damn funny in person, and once you get the hang of it, it's surprisingly addictive.
So.
The other day Brian and I were, yet again, practicing this in the kitchen...and Benjamin thought it was the most hilarious thing he'd heard. So he practiced several times on his own, before putting his own unique spin on it. And by this, I mean he chose a new name: Miss Margaret.
So, for Benjamin, the ultimate funny and hilarious thing to say in this house is, "Miss Muuurrrrgaaaruuuuut!"...with his face all contorted--mouth pursed, nostrils wide open, and eyes like quarters. It's hysterical.
Unbelievably ridiculous...but funny as hell.
So! Today, when we were getting ready to leave class, I leaned down and said "What do you say to Miss Margaret, Benjamin?"...the way I do at the end of every class.
He takes a few steps toward her, throws his shoulders back, chest forward, tilts his head up to the sky, and declares proudly--"Thank you, Miss MURRGAAARRRUUUUUUUUTTTT!"
I almost wet myself.
I absolutely love this child...and while it's impossible to be objective here, I dare say he's one of the most hysterical kids I know.
Miss Margaret's class was today and we had such a ball...made and painted our own apples with various forms of toddler media--his favorite, of course, was the paint. Thank heavens it was washable paint, though, as he decided to test out the glorious shade of red on his new pair of Merrells.
We also made our own applesauce, which was by far his favorite part of today's class..."Mommy! See apples in blender! Go, go, go apples!!"
But my favorite moment...easily my favorite moment, I'll add...was at the end of class.
A bit of background:
Brian and his sister Denise have, for years, always used this ridiculously funny voice whenever they say the name of their Aunt Barb. You know, just one of those silly sibling things you do...like quote certain movies. It's a relic from their growing-up years together, and with the addition of myself to the family, it's become a real staple in our fits of laughter together.
Here's how you say it: you draw your uppler lip down and under your teeth, do the same in reverse order with your lower lip...then press your mouth together real tight and blurt out "Bbbbarrrrrb!"....though it really sounds more like "Baaayyyyyaahhhrrrb".
Seriously? Sounds ridic. And it is...but it's damn funny in person, and once you get the hang of it, it's surprisingly addictive.
So.
The other day Brian and I were, yet again, practicing this in the kitchen...and Benjamin thought it was the most hilarious thing he'd heard. So he practiced several times on his own, before putting his own unique spin on it. And by this, I mean he chose a new name: Miss Margaret.
So, for Benjamin, the ultimate funny and hilarious thing to say in this house is, "Miss Muuurrrrgaaaruuuuut!"...with his face all contorted--mouth pursed, nostrils wide open, and eyes like quarters. It's hysterical.
Unbelievably ridiculous...but funny as hell.
So! Today, when we were getting ready to leave class, I leaned down and said "What do you say to Miss Margaret, Benjamin?"...the way I do at the end of every class.
He takes a few steps toward her, throws his shoulders back, chest forward, tilts his head up to the sky, and declares proudly--"Thank you, Miss MURRGAAARRRUUUUUUUUTTTT!"
I almost wet myself.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
What a way to start the day...
Our youth minister and his wife just had their baby two days ago...so I offered to host the Wednesday morning breakfast at Wolfgang's. I absolutely groaned when the alarm went off at 5:45 this morning, and wondered why I was dragging my ass out of bed that early when my kids were still sleeping!
Anyway, I showed up at the restaurant at 6:20am, and was amazed at the influx of kids that came through the door not five minutes later. We had about 25 high schoolers this morning...all fresh-faced (though some more than others) and chatty as ever. And there was me, at the end of the table, clutching my mug of coffee and wondering how and where they get so much energy.
I have plenty of friends who work out at this time of day, so I know it's not impossible...but I was just truly amazed at their readiness to hang out and have a somewhat meaningful conversation at that hour of the day.
I did manage to get some quality grocery shopping accomplished on my way home, which was truly a gift.
Great start to the day, really.
I just get so much out of being around those kids, that it makes me feel guilty...I'm supposed to be there for them, but so often they end up being the ones feeding me.
Now for a day with my boys...:)
Anyway, I showed up at the restaurant at 6:20am, and was amazed at the influx of kids that came through the door not five minutes later. We had about 25 high schoolers this morning...all fresh-faced (though some more than others) and chatty as ever. And there was me, at the end of the table, clutching my mug of coffee and wondering how and where they get so much energy.
I have plenty of friends who work out at this time of day, so I know it's not impossible...but I was just truly amazed at their readiness to hang out and have a somewhat meaningful conversation at that hour of the day.
I did manage to get some quality grocery shopping accomplished on my way home, which was truly a gift.
Great start to the day, really.
I just get so much out of being around those kids, that it makes me feel guilty...I'm supposed to be there for them, but so often they end up being the ones feeding me.
Now for a day with my boys...:)
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
I confess...
...that the bouquet of fall flowers hanging on my front door is fake.
So is the big, glorious bunch of fall-colored mums stuffed in a vase on my dining table.
...that last night's episode of the Bachelor gave me the heartiest laughs of my entire day.
...that I don't flush the toilet when I pee during the night, for fear of waking up a wee one. (probably shouldn't have used the term wee in this context)
...that I usually give about 50% effort during the abdominal track during Body Pump.
...that I accidentally tooted during a Yoga pose the other night...gratefully, no one was able to hear it above the ancient tribal music.
...that I may have forgotten to write a wedding thank-you note (still haven't figured out who gave us those camping chairs...clearly someone who didn't/doesn't know us well)
...that I still crave a cigarette every now and then
...that I actually tooted during Body Pump once, too (I'm tellin ya, after two vaginal births, things just aren't the same...)
Well, as things obviously aren't heading in a flattering direction for me this afternoon, I think I shall get going. Before I do, though, I need to pat myself on the back for the following, as I am incredibly proud of both:
1) successfully attempted the wheel/backbend in Yoga class last Saturday (and no, I didn't toot)
2) tried Spinning for the first time last night...and loved it! I've been ridiculously afraid of the "Spinsters" (people who spin) for as long as I can remember...they always look so intense and hard-core, especially when they klackety-klack down the hallway in their special Spinning shoes...the class itself has scared me, too, since I'm not all that coordinated on a bike. But a friend from Body Pump has been bugging me to try it, and I finally gave in last night. It was a hit! And I didn't do as horribly as I'd feared.
My cookie hurts something awful today, though...but that'll go away.:)
Anyway, I've made it a goal for myself to try something new at the gym each week...so I feel like I'm off to a good start.:)
So is the big, glorious bunch of fall-colored mums stuffed in a vase on my dining table.
...that last night's episode of the Bachelor gave me the heartiest laughs of my entire day.
...that I don't flush the toilet when I pee during the night, for fear of waking up a wee one. (probably shouldn't have used the term wee in this context)
...that I usually give about 50% effort during the abdominal track during Body Pump.
...that I accidentally tooted during a Yoga pose the other night...gratefully, no one was able to hear it above the ancient tribal music.
...that I may have forgotten to write a wedding thank-you note (still haven't figured out who gave us those camping chairs...clearly someone who didn't/doesn't know us well)
...that I still crave a cigarette every now and then
...that I actually tooted during Body Pump once, too (I'm tellin ya, after two vaginal births, things just aren't the same...)
Well, as things obviously aren't heading in a flattering direction for me this afternoon, I think I shall get going. Before I do, though, I need to pat myself on the back for the following, as I am incredibly proud of both:
1) successfully attempted the wheel/backbend in Yoga class last Saturday (and no, I didn't toot)
2) tried Spinning for the first time last night...and loved it! I've been ridiculously afraid of the "Spinsters" (people who spin) for as long as I can remember...they always look so intense and hard-core, especially when they klackety-klack down the hallway in their special Spinning shoes...the class itself has scared me, too, since I'm not all that coordinated on a bike. But a friend from Body Pump has been bugging me to try it, and I finally gave in last night. It was a hit! And I didn't do as horribly as I'd feared.
My cookie hurts something awful today, though...but that'll go away.:)
Anyway, I've made it a goal for myself to try something new at the gym each week...so I feel like I'm off to a good start.:)
Monday, October 22, 2007
If you know how I feel, raise your hand...
It's been one of those days where I've had zero down-time. No kid-free time...always "on". And while I consider myself to be pretty damn good at the "on" stuff...at this point in the day I seriously feel like murdering someone.
Case in point: just after I finished typing that last sentence, I had Benjamin at my thigh, yanking on my pant leg to see what I was doing. I had to lift him up onto my hip and explain to him that I was writing in my journal, having "Mommy time"...
It's not that I'm complaining.
I'm just bitching.
We had a great morning at Bright Beginnings, which was easily the high point of our day...Benjamin has just changed so much in the last month...even Katie was commenting on it today. And the ladies in the nursery at the MAC last week told me he was one of their best-behaved kids (before you barf, read on...)
Makes me feel so proud.
Strong.
Able.
And then, as I'm preparing lunch today...I turn around to find Benjamin missing.
Then I look out on the front lawn, where he's stepping into his Cozy Coupe with no pants on...and no diaper.
He proceeded to take a nap--YAY!--while Jonathan boycotted his.
Jonathan is now taking a very late afternoon nap, and B's up...totally ready to rock.
I swear--and maybe you can chime in here, Steph (if you're reading this)--on days like today, I feel like the old days of teaching SS to 50 6th graders at once would be a welcome change.
I'm so not kidding.
Hormones and all...bring it.
Just get me out of here.
As I type, B's whining to go outside...so off we go.
Grabbin the monitor and a Diet Coke.
Later, Bitches.
Case in point: just after I finished typing that last sentence, I had Benjamin at my thigh, yanking on my pant leg to see what I was doing. I had to lift him up onto my hip and explain to him that I was writing in my journal, having "Mommy time"...
It's not that I'm complaining.
I'm just bitching.
We had a great morning at Bright Beginnings, which was easily the high point of our day...Benjamin has just changed so much in the last month...even Katie was commenting on it today. And the ladies in the nursery at the MAC last week told me he was one of their best-behaved kids (before you barf, read on...)
Makes me feel so proud.
Strong.
Able.
And then, as I'm preparing lunch today...I turn around to find Benjamin missing.
Then I look out on the front lawn, where he's stepping into his Cozy Coupe with no pants on...and no diaper.
He proceeded to take a nap--YAY!--while Jonathan boycotted his.
Jonathan is now taking a very late afternoon nap, and B's up...totally ready to rock.
I swear--and maybe you can chime in here, Steph (if you're reading this)--on days like today, I feel like the old days of teaching SS to 50 6th graders at once would be a welcome change.
I'm so not kidding.
Hormones and all...bring it.
Just get me out of here.
As I type, B's whining to go outside...so off we go.
Grabbin the monitor and a Diet Coke.
Later, Bitches.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
It's not easy being Jonny C...
I've no business being online right now, as there are at least a dozen other things needing my attention in this house. But, as of five minutes ago, I'm finding myself without any children awake...and my blog is seriously needing some updates.
Now, about my Jonny.
It's been a heck of a few days for him round these parts.
I'll begin with Saturday. I left that morning for a girls' overnight out at the lake with friends...and Brian was awesome, I'm happy to report, about the whole thing. I think the fact that he got to drink beer and eat pizza with dudes made a difference, but let's just assume that he was loving his Daddy Time. So, as mentioned, the dudes of our girls' group were invited to assemble themselves and their respective "charges" over at one of our friends' houses...to let the kids play...and eat pizza, drink beer, and watch football. Oh, and kids, too...to watch the kids, too. *wink*
Honestly? It was an awesome idea...gave Brian and the boys something fun to do, change of scenery, etc....and yet, the best feature of all was the setting. Because when little Jonny C decided to do a header onto a large toy school bus and slice his upper lip open...he was lucky enough to be in the home of a surgeon.
Holy shnykies.
And Brian, when he left me a message detailing the whole debacle on my cell phone voicemail, was able to include the following phrase: "...but, luckily he (daddy surgeon) was able to clean it and apply some surgical glue to Jonathan's lip...he also examined it to determine if he needed stitches or not, which he doesn't...so...don't worry, honey..."
Meanwhile, I'm holding a french dip sandwich in mid-air, staring off into space with a "WTF???" expression on my face as I listen to the message at lunch in Holland.
After talking with Brian later that afternoon, I'm reassured...and honestly? Just glad I wasn't there for it. I even decide in my mind that it was probably far worse to witness than it is in actuality...and I do a pretty good job of believing that.
That is, until, I see little Jonny C in the nursery at church the next morning.
I met Brian and the boys there, and was paged into the nursery during the service because the little dude was crying and completely out of sorts. When I found him, he not only had snot mixed with tears all over his very red face...but his upper lip made him look like he'd been at war. And to add insult to injury (quite literally), he had a giant patch of dried, crusted booger underneath his nose that was totally stuck to the wound on his lip.
What is it with our husbands that they DON'T know how to wipe noses? Ok, I'll retract that statement in the odd likliehood that my eldest brother is reading this...because he's every wife's hero when it comes to keeping the wee ones clean and hygenic.
But I digress.
So...after a few days, Jonny's little injury resembles less of an ax wound...and more of an Adolf Hitler costume. But the important thing is he's on the mend.
And that brings us to this morning.
Jonathan had an appointment to have his allergies tested at 7:30am. Brian's out of town, so I brought Benjamin over to his Nana's at 7, still in his sleeper...PLG. So cute.
And off Jonny and I went to the allergist's office, which was surprisingly busy for 7:30 in the morning.
Anyway...I knew he was going to have the "skin test" done on his back, as I'd had it done when I was a teenager and was quite familiar with it.
Or so I thought. What I forgot was how un-freaking-comfortable it was, and that the person having the testing done had to lie completely still for TEN FUCKING MINUTES, face down, on an examining table. Except in this case, it wasn't a person having it done.
It was a one year old.
And not just any one year old, friends...the squirmiest, most wiggly, most stubborn and freakishly strong one year old you've met. Even our pediatrician says she's never seen "such a squirmy and determined kid"...so when the nurses this morning politely said not to worry, that most babies "settle right down" once the procedure started, I just gave them a nervous smile and decided it was their funeral.
Or mine.
Or Jonny's.
Basically it was all of ours.
Now, it's important that I mention here how I feel about shots, and other such procedures done on my children. As sensitive as a Sally as I am...LOL...I'm amazingly thick-skinned about enduring these types of scenarios. I've always been able to tough it out through the screams, wails and pathetic, reaching arms during immunizations...all because I know it's for a good cause.
But this morning, for some reason, I couldn't hack it.
Nurse #1 instructed me to lie him down, face down, on the examining table (you know, the one with the ream of butcher paper fastened to it...sheesh...so comfy), and to stand over the head of the table while holding his arms and upper back/neck down with my own forearms. She actually gave the following nugget of advice right before we started: "Sometimes moms use their own head to pin the child's head to the table".
Was she high?
Was this allergists office stuck in mid-evil times? Were the nurses going to clink their heavy, giant mugs of beer together in the hallway when the screaming commenced?
I waited for nurse #2 to grab ahold of Jonny's legs and ankles before squinting my eyes and deciding to picture his birth..the happy, peaceful moment he came into the world. I tried telling him about that into his ear when the procedure began, but he didn't seem calmed by it.
Instead, he proceeded to buck wildly beneath all of our grips...screaming, wailing, spitting, and blowing snot all over the butcher paper.
It was awful.
Even as I type I'm remembering how horrid and barbaric it felt.
I did my best to "shh-shhh" in his ear...and just held my face right next to his cheek...and tried to communicate love to him the best way I could. Which was laughable, since I basically had him in a WWF-style grip. All the while, nurse #1 was working away at the pricking of several spots on his poor little back, dropping various types of liquid into each one. These were substances geared to determine which foods he's allergic to. By this point I would've settled for "just feed him vegetables for the rest of his life" if it'd meant we could just get the hell out of that office.
At one point, when I thought neither Jonny or I could take any more...he managed to move his head just enough to look up at me with this pathetically pleading expression, and that's when I lost it. Totally started crying...sobbing, actually. Heavy breathing, chest in spasm-mode...the whole shootin match. And Jonny kept right on with more of the same on his end.
It was at that point that the nurse plunked an egg timer down on the table, announcing that we had "8 and a half minutes left".
Fuu-huuck!
And it was then that nurse #1 packed up her shit and instructed myself and nurse #2 just to "hang in for 8 more minutes while the liquid dries"...so results had time to manifest.
Damn, this was the hardest thing I'd been through as a mom. And making the whole thing worse was the fact that Jonny was clearly itching like mad from all of the marks on his back. Right away several of the pin prick marks were turning into welts, indicating allergies to various things..like wheat, eggs, barley, rye...and the mother of all allergies, and one very familiar in our family, peanuts.
Anyway, by the time we neared the last minute, Jonathan actually started to quiet down and close his eyes. The nurse told me we were done and that I could get him dressed...but this sistah wasn't about to work a onesie over his little head right about then. Instead, I scoope him up as fast as I could (seemed to be in slow motion), and held him all naked in his diaper for a good five minutes before I got him dressed. And he didn't move...just cuddled next to me and whimpered. But just being able to hold him was heaven.
If anyone reading this has been through this procedure, they know of my pain this morning. And more importantly, of Jonny's.
Right now he's happily sleeping upstairs, enjoying a long afternoon nap.
And the irony of all ironies is that he likely doesn't remember a thing...the whole ordeal was obviously much harder on him than it was anybody else, but it's going to leave the biggest scar on his mommy.
As we were leaving I asked the allergist (whom we met with after the procedure was finished) how I should interpret a rash that had broken out on my eldest child's face last weekend after eating a bite of peanut butter. Her eyes got a little big, her eyebrows raised, and she said "Hmm, let's bring him in. Doesn't sound good."
To this, I said..."Alrighty, will do."
But in the car, while driving back to Nana's in the rain to pick up Benjamin...Jonathan in deep slumber in his carseat...I called Brian to tell him of the whole ordeal. When I got to the part about Benjamin, at the very end of the story, he asked me if I was actually going to make the appointment.
You figure that one out.
At least not today, anyone. I'm not a negligient mom...just a fragile one today.
Now, about my Jonny.
It's been a heck of a few days for him round these parts.
I'll begin with Saturday. I left that morning for a girls' overnight out at the lake with friends...and Brian was awesome, I'm happy to report, about the whole thing. I think the fact that he got to drink beer and eat pizza with dudes made a difference, but let's just assume that he was loving his Daddy Time. So, as mentioned, the dudes of our girls' group were invited to assemble themselves and their respective "charges" over at one of our friends' houses...to let the kids play...and eat pizza, drink beer, and watch football. Oh, and kids, too...to watch the kids, too. *wink*
Honestly? It was an awesome idea...gave Brian and the boys something fun to do, change of scenery, etc....and yet, the best feature of all was the setting. Because when little Jonny C decided to do a header onto a large toy school bus and slice his upper lip open...he was lucky enough to be in the home of a surgeon.
Holy shnykies.
And Brian, when he left me a message detailing the whole debacle on my cell phone voicemail, was able to include the following phrase: "...but, luckily he (daddy surgeon) was able to clean it and apply some surgical glue to Jonathan's lip...he also examined it to determine if he needed stitches or not, which he doesn't...so...don't worry, honey..."
Meanwhile, I'm holding a french dip sandwich in mid-air, staring off into space with a "WTF???" expression on my face as I listen to the message at lunch in Holland.
After talking with Brian later that afternoon, I'm reassured...and honestly? Just glad I wasn't there for it. I even decide in my mind that it was probably far worse to witness than it is in actuality...and I do a pretty good job of believing that.
That is, until, I see little Jonny C in the nursery at church the next morning.
I met Brian and the boys there, and was paged into the nursery during the service because the little dude was crying and completely out of sorts. When I found him, he not only had snot mixed with tears all over his very red face...but his upper lip made him look like he'd been at war. And to add insult to injury (quite literally), he had a giant patch of dried, crusted booger underneath his nose that was totally stuck to the wound on his lip.
What is it with our husbands that they DON'T know how to wipe noses? Ok, I'll retract that statement in the odd likliehood that my eldest brother is reading this...because he's every wife's hero when it comes to keeping the wee ones clean and hygenic.
But I digress.
So...after a few days, Jonny's little injury resembles less of an ax wound...and more of an Adolf Hitler costume. But the important thing is he's on the mend.
And that brings us to this morning.
Jonathan had an appointment to have his allergies tested at 7:30am. Brian's out of town, so I brought Benjamin over to his Nana's at 7, still in his sleeper...PLG. So cute.
And off Jonny and I went to the allergist's office, which was surprisingly busy for 7:30 in the morning.
Anyway...I knew he was going to have the "skin test" done on his back, as I'd had it done when I was a teenager and was quite familiar with it.
Or so I thought. What I forgot was how un-freaking-comfortable it was, and that the person having the testing done had to lie completely still for TEN FUCKING MINUTES, face down, on an examining table. Except in this case, it wasn't a person having it done.
It was a one year old.
And not just any one year old, friends...the squirmiest, most wiggly, most stubborn and freakishly strong one year old you've met. Even our pediatrician says she's never seen "such a squirmy and determined kid"...so when the nurses this morning politely said not to worry, that most babies "settle right down" once the procedure started, I just gave them a nervous smile and decided it was their funeral.
Or mine.
Or Jonny's.
Basically it was all of ours.
Now, it's important that I mention here how I feel about shots, and other such procedures done on my children. As sensitive as a Sally as I am...LOL...I'm amazingly thick-skinned about enduring these types of scenarios. I've always been able to tough it out through the screams, wails and pathetic, reaching arms during immunizations...all because I know it's for a good cause.
But this morning, for some reason, I couldn't hack it.
Nurse #1 instructed me to lie him down, face down, on the examining table (you know, the one with the ream of butcher paper fastened to it...sheesh...so comfy), and to stand over the head of the table while holding his arms and upper back/neck down with my own forearms. She actually gave the following nugget of advice right before we started: "Sometimes moms use their own head to pin the child's head to the table".
Was she high?
Was this allergists office stuck in mid-evil times? Were the nurses going to clink their heavy, giant mugs of beer together in the hallway when the screaming commenced?
I waited for nurse #2 to grab ahold of Jonny's legs and ankles before squinting my eyes and deciding to picture his birth..the happy, peaceful moment he came into the world. I tried telling him about that into his ear when the procedure began, but he didn't seem calmed by it.
Instead, he proceeded to buck wildly beneath all of our grips...screaming, wailing, spitting, and blowing snot all over the butcher paper.
It was awful.
Even as I type I'm remembering how horrid and barbaric it felt.
I did my best to "shh-shhh" in his ear...and just held my face right next to his cheek...and tried to communicate love to him the best way I could. Which was laughable, since I basically had him in a WWF-style grip. All the while, nurse #1 was working away at the pricking of several spots on his poor little back, dropping various types of liquid into each one. These were substances geared to determine which foods he's allergic to. By this point I would've settled for "just feed him vegetables for the rest of his life" if it'd meant we could just get the hell out of that office.
At one point, when I thought neither Jonny or I could take any more...he managed to move his head just enough to look up at me with this pathetically pleading expression, and that's when I lost it. Totally started crying...sobbing, actually. Heavy breathing, chest in spasm-mode...the whole shootin match. And Jonny kept right on with more of the same on his end.
It was at that point that the nurse plunked an egg timer down on the table, announcing that we had "8 and a half minutes left".
Fuu-huuck!
And it was then that nurse #1 packed up her shit and instructed myself and nurse #2 just to "hang in for 8 more minutes while the liquid dries"...so results had time to manifest.
Damn, this was the hardest thing I'd been through as a mom. And making the whole thing worse was the fact that Jonny was clearly itching like mad from all of the marks on his back. Right away several of the pin prick marks were turning into welts, indicating allergies to various things..like wheat, eggs, barley, rye...and the mother of all allergies, and one very familiar in our family, peanuts.
Anyway, by the time we neared the last minute, Jonathan actually started to quiet down and close his eyes. The nurse told me we were done and that I could get him dressed...but this sistah wasn't about to work a onesie over his little head right about then. Instead, I scoope him up as fast as I could (seemed to be in slow motion), and held him all naked in his diaper for a good five minutes before I got him dressed. And he didn't move...just cuddled next to me and whimpered. But just being able to hold him was heaven.
If anyone reading this has been through this procedure, they know of my pain this morning. And more importantly, of Jonny's.
Right now he's happily sleeping upstairs, enjoying a long afternoon nap.
And the irony of all ironies is that he likely doesn't remember a thing...the whole ordeal was obviously much harder on him than it was anybody else, but it's going to leave the biggest scar on his mommy.
As we were leaving I asked the allergist (whom we met with after the procedure was finished) how I should interpret a rash that had broken out on my eldest child's face last weekend after eating a bite of peanut butter. Her eyes got a little big, her eyebrows raised, and she said "Hmm, let's bring him in. Doesn't sound good."
To this, I said..."Alrighty, will do."
But in the car, while driving back to Nana's in the rain to pick up Benjamin...Jonathan in deep slumber in his carseat...I called Brian to tell him of the whole ordeal. When I got to the part about Benjamin, at the very end of the story, he asked me if I was actually going to make the appointment.
You figure that one out.
At least not today, anyone. I'm not a negligient mom...just a fragile one today.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Can someone explain all of this?
On my way to bed...so ready, in fact, that I have my glass of water parked on the coffee table next to me, ready to take upstairs and set on my nightstand before crawling into bed.
But after watching the news tonight (now, and the nightly news at 6:30 earlier tonight), I'm completely baffled at how the school shooting in Cleveland has made "third billing" in news programs. I'm not saying it needs to be the second story of the night, or even the first...but why is it that when someone so much as breathes wrong at an all-white, suburban high school or university, it makes that evening's top news?
Ok, stepping off of soapbox.
In the interest of levity here this evening, I'll tack on a couple of other "what the F" items that have been rummaging through my brian today:
1. Why my husband loves the band Radiohead so much, but also enjoys a good Yanni number every now and then.
2. Why I can be feelin the spirit on the treadmill, all rocked-out to some great song, feeling great, then look at the profile of myself jogging in the mirror at the gym, and lose all sense of "I'm awesome-ness".
3. Why, after Benjamin and I hug-it-out after he's been on the step (it's a ritual), he insists that I hug the branch of fake fall-colored leaves that's sitting on our dining table right now...this happened tonight for the first time, but he made Brian do it, too (so Brian told me when I got home tonight).
4. Why local news anchor Brad Edwards can annoy the living piss out of me for the past few years...and suddenly he gets promoted to a swankier, more savvy Detroit station. I guess I should just be glad I won't have to hear his voice again any time soon.
5. Why I'm still online.
But after watching the news tonight (now, and the nightly news at 6:30 earlier tonight), I'm completely baffled at how the school shooting in Cleveland has made "third billing" in news programs. I'm not saying it needs to be the second story of the night, or even the first...but why is it that when someone so much as breathes wrong at an all-white, suburban high school or university, it makes that evening's top news?
Ok, stepping off of soapbox.
In the interest of levity here this evening, I'll tack on a couple of other "what the F" items that have been rummaging through my brian today:
1. Why my husband loves the band Radiohead so much, but also enjoys a good Yanni number every now and then.
2. Why I can be feelin the spirit on the treadmill, all rocked-out to some great song, feeling great, then look at the profile of myself jogging in the mirror at the gym, and lose all sense of "I'm awesome-ness".
3. Why, after Benjamin and I hug-it-out after he's been on the step (it's a ritual), he insists that I hug the branch of fake fall-colored leaves that's sitting on our dining table right now...this happened tonight for the first time, but he made Brian do it, too (so Brian told me when I got home tonight).
4. Why local news anchor Brad Edwards can annoy the living piss out of me for the past few years...and suddenly he gets promoted to a swankier, more savvy Detroit station. I guess I should just be glad I won't have to hear his voice again any time soon.
5. Why I'm still online.
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