Snow Chicken

Went yesterday to the Ex’s to have him replace the two wheel studs that had broken off my tire when he put the snow tire on the rear driver side and my plug to plug the car in. Yes, Saturday, despite years of constant checking, I drove off with my car plugged in. The cord remained plugged into the outlet and the plug ripped free from the car. Ah yes, the shades of red my face was Saturday night when I arrived home from work, was hidden by the darkness.  The ‘Are you f***ing kidding me?’ as I shook my head and ground my teeth in frustration, was pure comedy.

This is also my week with T so I killed two birds with one stone and he came home with me once the Ex was all done with the repairs.  We also discussed a few things with regards to T, and how we were going to go together and help T out with a purchase of a gaming system that he wants. I am the lesser of the idiots when it comes to gaming platforms so I shall be the one doing the research and looking around for the best deal. T wants an Xbox 360 except I have discovered that Xbox has its next generation Xbox One out. There was also a discussion with regards to language.

Remember how T dropped the f bomb on me? Well apparently he has been really vulgar at his dad’s. Yesterday he was asked if he was allowed to swear at my place and obviously his answer was no. So they wanted to know why he thought he could swear while at his dad’s? I am sure that T is going to long for the days when his dad and me did not talk for no sooner was he in the car with his seatbelt on than the question was asked: I understand that you have been swearing a lot what is that all about? I don’t know, as he looks at his lap.

Look I am not an idiot. I know that he swears. I am not so far removed from my own vulgarity and the recalled horror of the one time I dropped the ‘f’ bomb on mom, but there is a place and a time. The place and time right now is not within hearing distance of any adult and only with your friends. As I said, I know it happens, I do not need to hear it too.

We talked all the way home with a few laughs. Found out how far he was in his Call of Duty game. Learned that a new one was coming out and soon all his on-line friends would be playing that and not the one he had. Which lead to a discussion about how he would have to earn money to purchase said game, that they were not free. I do believe that he is beginning to understand that money is not something that grows on trees.

Although it is only the beginning of winter, there is already a snow pile in both the parking lot of the gas station next door and a wee one next to the building. We were going over the rules of snow hills. No sliding down snow hills that are piled up at the street corners. No sliding down hills in parking lots. The one on the side of the building is okay as now no one can park there. (It is our visitor parking)

We are sitting at the red light discussing the rules. I look over and read the sign for a local restaurant: 9 pc Chester Chicken with fries and 2 liter pop $5 off.

‘And T I really do not want you to be run over by a chicken.’

I knew as soon as it came out of my mouth. And I howled. T looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted wings and repeated ‘a chicken mom’?

I pointed over to the sign and he read it and looked at me. I am giggling uncontrollably because I totally know what happened. I was saying the standard ‘I don’t want you to get hit by a car’ at the same time as I was processing the sign about the sale on chicken and those wires crossed.  This is not the first time nor will it be the last time it happens. I am the Queen of wires crossing and the weirdest things coming out of my mouth. I have asked people if they would like milk for their bags? Would they like cereal in boxes? Some days I think it might be better for me to keep my mouth shut, but the comedy is gold I tell you.

The start of our week was awesome. What with the laughing and snow hills and all. Just remember folks to watch out for those deadly snow chickens, you never know when they will appear.

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End of an Era

Today is going to be the 2nd hardest day of T’s life to date. I would say his first hardest was when I moved out of the family home into our apartment. Like that time period, he had to adjust and redefine his reality. This is going to be the same. Today is the day that T’s best friend K is moving. An hour away.

Yesterday T and me, we put on a helluva show for the neighbors and others who were lucky enough to have caught it. At one point the RCMP drove by and all I could think was wonderful, I am going to be arrested for making T go for a walk. Again. This time I did not even make a lap around the park I was so furious. Walking back I steamed. When we got home he refused to come in.

It was awesome. His dad had text to say he was going to take T shopping. I text him back and said come and get him. I cannot deal with this attitude. I went outside and told him his dad was coming to get him. And I ruined his life even more by telling both of his friends that he was grounded. The t.v., the play station, youtube, computer, all gone.

When his dad arrived I explained everything to him and handed the Fire Kindle back saying T is not allowed any electronics. I assumed that he would think that I was over-reacting so was a bit on the defensive.  He did not. And when T came out and was snarky with me, my ex said T’s name and looked at him.

I went back inside, still angry. I was so tired of T’s attitude. All I had wanted was for T and me to go for a quick walk while his friends were not home. This whole show was for a point he had snippily informed me, as he did not want to go for a walk. But your friends were not even home, I pointed out, so there was no one to play with. You did this all for nothing.

I mulled it over. Text back and forth with K’s mom M and finally I decided that because it was K’s last night I would allow T to play with his friends. I still was not giving him back his electronics because he acted like a little snot, but I would not be the cause of irreparable childhood scars for not letting him play with his best friend, on his last night, as our next door neighbor.

They played and all things were grand until T came in and he had tears on his face. Angry that he could not play with his friends, he could not understand why they had gone into one’s house without him. He wanted to go knock on the door again, and while I sympathized with him, I had to caution him that it was inappropriate to go banging on the door again. In under two minutes. Than he heard the boys and went off running. Only to return three minutes later tears leaking down his cheeks.

I held my arms open and he flew over to the couch. I held him, rubbing his back and rocking him, my heart breaking and my own tears falling. I told him that K was only an hour away and that with school starting he would make new friends, people he had never met before. T shook his head and said ‘no mom, I have no other friends. And I know everyone in grade 4.’

I had no argument for him. I held him until he felt better and he sat up. I cajoled him into the shower. The tears had left tracks in the dirt on his face. And he had said it was shower night anyways. We sat on the couch and talked a little bit more. I let him watch Larva and I watched it with him. A show that I cannot fathom nor explain. It is on Netflix.

He was in bed and asleep at 9. I am holding firm on that one. We have been getting back into the swing of a 9 p.m. bedtime so I won’t have to fight next week. This morning when he got up, I text M to see if they were awake. They were. T and K are together for the last little while.

As I was writing this, any residual anger that I felt at T for his behaviour has leaked away. Instead I am ashamed that I was not more compassionate towards him. He is 9. His best friend since he was 1.5 years old is moving today. They have been neighbors for over a year. Don’t get me wrong that does not excuse T’s behaviour, and the repercussions still stand, but compromise might be possible. After I get my house cleaned. And his room purged. And the cat litter boxes cleaned………..

 

 

Not Funny

Yes so Wednesday T was furious with me. I had been after him all day to go for a walk with me. He kept putting me off until finally I had had enough and told him that we were going, no ands ifs or buts about it. Outside we went and he huffed and puffed behind me. Stomping his feet and swinging his arms, postulating like an ape. I was trying so hard to keep a straight face.

We walked along, me slightly ahead of him, as I was not going to allow his misery to color my joy at being outdoors. Finally he comes clomping up next to me and with a red face demands that I slow down. I am walking too fast if I can be way ahead of him. I slowed my pace but refused to talk to him while he was still acting this way. All I wanted was a little time where he and me could get out and enjoy our time together.

We got to the park and began our lap around the pathway. I ended up being warmer than expected so made him hold the keys and my phone while I took off my hoodie. This began a conversation. Of sorts. First though T had to make sure that I knew without a doubt that I was only allowed to take one lap around the park.

Our conversation was actually pretty cool. We talked about university versus college. How was T to get there? What if he didn’t have his driver’s license by than? All this stemmed from the fact that I informed him that unless he was going to school, he would not be living with me rent free until he was twenty-five. I was optimistic as this is the first time that T has agreed that he is going to further his education after high school. (I should note here that he wants to be a mechanic and own his own business. I keep telling him that he will need to learn the trade aspect as a mechanic and than take business courses so he knows what he is doing. T seems to think that this might be a good idea now.)

As we come around the curve, I decide that we are going to keep going so I wave T to continue walking. Which did not meet with his approval. So he became angry. We walked along no longer talking. T continued to bitch and moan that I was not being fair. We no longer had anything to talk about. I finally had enough.

‘Here, lay down on the grass between the trees and I will continue my walk.’

‘No, you aren’t going to come back this way mom.’

‘You can see the entry way, just watch for me.’

‘But what if I miss you?’

‘I guess you will figure that out soon enough,’ I glanced over at him.

‘Mooooooom! You would just leave me here?!?’

I could not contain myself. The look on his face one part abject horror that I would even conceive of leaving him laying on the grass in a pout and one part anger that I would even conceive of leaving him laying on the grass in a pout. I burst out with laughter, and not a gentle ladylike tee hee hee. I guffawed. I chortled. I had tears in my eyes.

‘That is not funny at all mom.’

‘I thought it was.’

‘Well it wasn’t.’

We continued along in silence a little while longer. Me giggling under my breath and wiping away the stray tear. T clomping along in stony silence. Finally throwing me a glare he muttered ‘you can talk now mom.’

With that we segued back into our conversation about school. I admitted that I kinda wished that I had continued my university education. Not sure what I would have done with a Bachelor of Arts but there you have it. When we came to the bend again, T made sure that I continued walking the straight and narrow out of the park.

His friends were outside playing but he graciously conceded to walking to the Co-op with me. As we walked over to the apartment, I was glad I had forced the issue. I thanked T for walking with me, and told him that I hoped it would happen again. And soon.

 

 

 

T’s turning 9

My little boy is turning 9 on Monday, August 7th. (Just in case anyone is so lost in the summer that they are not quite sure of the date he he he) This is going to be a hard one for me as he is with his dad so I will not be seeing him. I lied. I just text his dad(at 6:50 a.m. on a Saturday morning) to ask him to rearrange plans so that I could at least see T and give him a hug and kiss.

T is not so little any more. He was born two months premature. Due October 4th and decided to arrive on August 7, 2008. We were building the ex’s shop and joke that T wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

I was scared.

When I found out I was pregnant.

Bear in mind I was 35 not 25.

It is a kinda funny story how it all started. At work I had been complaining that my boobs were killing me. Everyone joked that I was pregnant. I scoffed. We had been trying for 5 years, were in the final process for adoption (where they did home visit etc.) but damn when my 3 lb cat stepped on me I nearly killed her they hurt so much. Clue number 1.

I could not understand why I could no longer drink coffee. I wanted it. I would pour my cup and set it down. Take a sip or two and than allow it to grow cold. I love my coffee. There is life in my coffee. And niceness. And civility. Should have been clue number 2.

It was our first new long weekend in February. For non-Canadians, the government decided that it was too long for workers to go from January to March/April without having a long weekend. So in February we have Family Day or as in Manitoba, the province I live in, Louis Riel Day. A long weekend. My ex decided to go snowmobiling. I was excited to have Saturday and Sunday and most of Monday to myself.

Got home from work and set the groceries down on the floor to be put away. When I heard the first growl I snapped around. Oh shit! Odin my cross Great Pyrenees x Collie x St. Bernard and Nero my Rotti were about to go head to head. And I was on my own. I screamed and yelled. I threw a heater trying desperately to get them to stop fighting.

I had Odin on the porch and was kicking at him. Kicking him, hurting him, something I swore to never do. I had a hold of Nero. Almost had the door to the porch nearly closed when Nero surged forward bursting into the room. Now I am in the porch, desperate to pull these two dogs, who combined, weighed 200 lbs to my petite 115 lb frame, apart. They are snarling, saliva is spraying and I am screaming and yanking at them.

Nero hit the stand up tool box that we kept on the porch. Sockets rained down. I was trying to get the door open, because despite the fact it killed me, I needed to get them outside so the fight could end naturally. My socks were wet from the cream that someone had bitten and it had flowed all over the kitchen floor. I was not aware of this. I stepped on a socket and down I went. Hard.

Oh boy. Now I was mad. To top it off, as I stuck my hand out for balance, I managed to stick it in Nero’s mouth as he was in mid-bite. By the time that my brain even registered that I had been bitten, he had already let go and was looking at me. My anger and frustration, fear and tears turned to rage in that moment. Rage that my damn dogs wanted to fight. Rage that I was alone dealing with this. Rage that I had been bitten! I slammed open the door leading outside and screamed at them to get out.

Stood at the kitchen sink washing the wound while screaming out the window for them to stop. The entire fight lasted no more than 2 minutes, 3 tops. It felt like an eternity to me. I got Odin in the house, put Nero on the porch and looked at my hand. Yep, pierced right through fat and oh my god is that bone????????

Called my girlfriend up and she and her boyfriend left the restaurant they were at before they even got their meal, to come and get me. Hospital here I come. They could not believe my lack of fear and stoicism as my hand was cleaned and bound. Heavy duty meds to counter any infection and I was sent home. With a doctor’s note, I was now off work for the week. (As an aside my hand blew up to 3x’s its size and I could not move it the next day, or the day after that.)

Up until this point my periods had been every 28 days without fail. So when I skipped the Sunday after that fight, I put it down to stress. By Wednesday, I was concerned and I purchased a home pregnancy test. Took it and began to clean the house. Completely forgot about the test for an hour. An hour people!!!! When I did remember in I went in to be presented with 2 double pink lines. The first thing I breathed was ‘Holy Fuck man, I cannot do this.’

Called the ex. Called the doctor for a second opinion. They told me to come in as soon as I could pee again. I drank two bottles of water and off I went. I was scared as shit. I had lost my daughter when I was five months pregnant with her. There has never been any answers for me as to why that happened. This was 15 years prior. I was in shock.

T was an extremely laid back baby in the womb. Rarely moved, when he did it was in response to my drinking a Coke (which I had stopped drinking years ago, switching to Pepsi, but he liked Coke. Or I had eaten a chocolate bar) Or when Patches the cat draped herself over my tummy and purred away. He liked that. He was not a fan of anything with processed sugar so I ate a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables.

From day 1 I knew he was going to be a boy. Everyone warned me that saying he was a boy meant that I was having a girl. But I knew. There were a lot of differences between this pregnancy and my daughter’s. However, he had a strong heartbeat, when he chose to kick me they were good strong kicks. Yet still I worried.

Tuesday August 5th, 2008. I worked a normal day. Except I knew that something was off because I barely ate. Got home, made supper which I again barely ate and flaked out on the couch. I was exhausted. Could not keep my eyes open. Something was not right. The ex came in and I told him this as I was preparing for bed at 8 p.m.

Got up at 10:50 p.m. to go to the bathroom. Made it to the bedroom doorway when it happened. My water broke. Now I was terrified. I still had 2 months to go. And it just kept coming. An incredible sense of calm broke over me as my ex panicked. I dressed although by the time I got to the hospital my sweats were soaked.

At emerg I was asked if I was okay to walk down to admissions. My eyebrow shot up. Away I went only to be sent back to emerg 2 minutes later with papers in hand. The hospital is not outfitted for premature births so I was going to be sent to Winnipeg, if in fact my water had broken and I had not just peed myself.

That is right folks. The nurse on duty asked me if I was sure that my water had broken and I had just not peed myself. (Mom I love you and know you have mad nursing skills but I nearly decked this woman). Off I was sent to pee in bottle because well all pregnant women have to pee in little bottles for months and months.

Then came the test to ensure that my water had broken. This one a little more invasive and potentially could lead to infection. And they lost the first one. So I had to allow more invasions only to be told what I had already told them. My waters had broken. Ex was sent home to get me clothes to change into. Thank god I had my book with me. Although truth be told, I would read the same page over and over again.

I was fucking scared. T had been pretty quiet. I was set up on an i.v. drip to, I don’t even remember. I had no one to call. I mean yeah, I could have called mom or the bro. Truth be told, I wanted, I needed a girlfriend who would come running, hold my hand and tell me everything would be totally fine.  My ex was not really helpful in the face of an emergency so there I was deep breathing, trying to control my anxiety and wait.

I was taken by ambulance to St. Boniface in Winnipeg. By 5 p.m. Wednesday August 6th I was dilating and having contractions. Mom got a speeding ticket as she rushed to my side. My bro and SIL came to offer me encouragement. The ex’s mother showed up and wished she could go into the delivery room with me. Also made it all about her. The drugs were wonderful though. No epidural for this girl. No Morphine. They gave me Fentanyl which could be given right up until I went into the delivery room as it did not affect T. Epidural, I was pretty far along in my contractions because I had back labor, might not have worked. So why try?

Again my labor was fairly easy. My contractions were five minutes apart. Lasted a minute. The worst two I had, when T moved into the birth canal and his head popped out. When his head came out I was ready to quit until told all I needed to do were little pushes. Waved my hand at the doctor and informed him ‘I could so do that.’

I had been warned not to worry if T did not cry when he arrived. His heartbeat had been strong throughout labor. But when my little guy arrived and they laid him on my belly, he squalled and screamed. Tears filled my eyes as I reached down and said ‘Welcome to the world baby.’ And he grabbed my thumb and squeezed. 16.5″ long and 3.15 lbs. Six weeks in NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) and then he came home.

Flash forward nine years later. To look at him you would never know that he was premature. There have been no delays in his development.  He is smart as a whip. Funny with a sense of humor that rivals mine. (He also has a dirty little mind that I am working very hard to ignore) His sarcasm is coming to a fine point. And I am sure that by next year he will be as tall as me, if not taller.

And on Monday, August 7/17 my baby is going to be 9. OMG I just realized that next year he will be a tween!!!!! Will I keep my hair?

 

 

 

Who knew I could smell so bad?

This is my week with T.  Wednesday I was suddenly struck cold, right through to the bone. I even pulled the heater out at work when I was covering my second’s break because I was so cold. Went home, slept, went and picked up K and came home to T. In the evening it wasn’t so bad. But it hit hard over night. I awoke drenched in sweat my hair could almost be wrung out. Gross right? Well I felt worse.

I called in. Something that I had promised myself the last time that I was going to avoid doing for the next six months. I moved and my head throbbed, my eyes squinting because the light was too bright. I had blinds closed, glasses off and it was painful. My hips, my legs, my back ached. I slept almost all day. I did not take T to soccer. Ordered him pizza for supper because I could not move to cook. I have never felt so helpless and useless a mother as at this point.

T tucked me in and gave me his stuffed puppy to cuddle with. Along with his blanket. His dad knew I was ill so he picked him up and off to soccer they went. Home at 8:30 I tell him his bedtime is 9:30 and I am trusting him. He was in bed at 9:30. Friday a.m. I woke up again covered in sweat and my sleep had been so disjointed but I had to go to work. I groused and groaned and snivelled and groused some more, but off we went.

I am glad that I went in. I pushed through my day and as I did I began to feel so much better. By the end of my shift I was no longer forcing my smile or my laughter. Not cured mind you as my head was still throbbing. I made T clean up the floor because it hurt to bend over and pick up the mess on the floor. Hint 2 I was feeling better: the mess that had accumulated in two days of being ill, was annoying me.

Woke up this morning feeling good. Wee headache but livable. Only to discover that T puked in the middle of the night. He also had a wee accident. And he was cold.

It is Summer in the City in our city this weekend. He had to go. ‘Mom I am fine.’

I caved. He pushed through it. I am going to say this kid has way more stamina than I do. I do believe he is built like his chichi and refuses to allow illness to deny or keep him from anything.

As we are walking home, holding hands, I know yet again my guy isn’t feeling very good. Because what healthy 8 year old boy wants to be seen holding his mother’s hand as they walk down the street? He is also complaining that his legs are aching.  ‘Mom when we get home I just want to lay down on your couch.’

As I am sitting at the computer T is laying on the couch. He has not eaten yet, another indication of illness. I look over and use the bribe food: ‘Hey if I make mac and cheese you gonna have some?’ ‘Sure mom.’

Okay, and he is warming up. Maybe he is like chichi and not his wimpy mommy when it comes to sickness.

I start making the mac and cheese and he is patiently waiting. I am playing on the computer, minding my own business, eye on the timer when all of a sudden……pooot poooooot poooot pppppoooooot ppppppppppoooooooooot.

I look over at T with wide eyes and say what was that? Like I don’t know.

T stares at me I think in slight suprise. And than I am guessing that the smell hit him. His face twitched, he gasped and said ‘I didn’t know I could smell like this mom!’

And I laughed as I got up to stir the noodles and said ‘and you can’t even get away from it.’

****T did attempt to get me to smell said disgusting fart by insisting he required a kiss. I held my breath until far enough away.

 

A Mother’s Guilt

“Mom! Mom!” I bolted upright from a dead sleep sure that some new crisis had arisen. “What buddy?” I groggily call back trying to find my glasses. “I am all cured. No stomach ache, no headache!” “That is great buddy, but it is only 7 a.m. go back to sleep!” June 3/17 @ 6:55 a.m. 

This is my week with T. My heart. My soul. I watched him cry and sob as his head throbbed and his tummy hurt. I felt as though that pain would cleave me in two. I could do nothing to help him.

After our doctor appointment on Wednesday I text my boss to let him know that T was down and out for the next two days. I was in a way hoping that he would tell me that I should take the time and be with my son. For it is my week and he is ill on my watch. The offer was not made so I had to take my ex up on his offer to watch T for me. He felt that he ‘owed’ me.

Thursday morning he arrived to pick T up. T was still asleep when he got here. I woke him up and he stumbled up the stairs. Whimpering a little at the pain but a trooper still. I worked at 5:30 this morning so again asked what the plan was. Which is when I found out that T was not going to be home until today when I got off at 2. I walked down the stairs, my heart breaking in two and I cried.

Nothing mattered to me. I went to work, and thank goodness it was quiet. I spent my day tidying my desk and getting all my paperwork caught up that I had been neglecting for the longest time. Got organized. Do not need my boss to put down that the thing I need to work on is maintaining a clean desk. (In an aside, I have read that a messy desk is the sign of an intelligence person so who am I to argue?)

I text my ex. I tried calling. I could not get through. My heart begins to race. T never gets sick like this. The last time he was this sick was at about a year and a half, and we were in hospital for three days while he had pneumonia. I was scared sick, than feeling that I had failed him as a mother.

My evening was relatively quiet as I sat here. I text the ex a couple of times. I asked that T call me. I waited. And than he did. In tears. Telling me that his tummy hurt. Asking me why I had to go to work and could not come and get him. I tried to be so strong. I told him how great he was doing because he had not asked for Advil since 6:30 a.m. and it was 9:30 p.m. I asked how the pain was. Had he eaten? I could hear his fear. I told him I loved him and could I please speak to his dad?

I burst into tears when my ex got on the phone. I demanded to know what he was doing to help T. I was livid because I could tell that he had been drinking. His dad came out. It was a party. (Yes there is some lingering anger issues here) He tried to tell me it was all good. The I did not need to be there, he was. And I said to him “That is not what this is about. I am his mother. That I cannot be there to hold him, to help him kills me. When we get off the phone you go inside and you cuddle him. Promise me!”

He promised. I think he was chastened. I was sobbing. My baby needed me and yet I could not be there for him.

Do I not trust my ex to do the right thing? Not at all. However, I felt that he did not quite see how extreme this was. Our son is never sick. Sniffles, flu, but down and out? Never.

This morning I lasted until 9 a.m. before I text to see how T was. And was told he had not eaten. That he had puked. And I freaked. This was an escalation, not a getting better. Now I am panicking. I made an appointment with the Quick Care Clinic because, well, I am a mom and I jump to insane conclusions when my normally healthy child is so ill.

On Wednesday I got everything done before 8 a.m. Today, I was done by 7:30. I do what I have to do. But that is not where my heart is. I argue with my phone when I received messages that are not about T. I tried calling my ex and finally shot him a message saying that his house line was screwed and to please let me know what was going on with my son.

When I showed up at 2:30 to pick up T he did not come out to greet me. I was concerned. Asked the ex where is he? In the house.  I went in and he is laying on the couch his head covered and I look at the ex and say ‘He is still sleeping??????’ T pops up and looks at me. ‘Hi mom.’

Than he stood up. Oh dear lord, really? The pants he wore were six inches above his ankles. I looked at the ex and went really? What the hell are those? T bursts into tears and falls on couch covering himself with his blanket. I rush to him and apologize, brushing his tears away.

I tell him we will stop at home and change before the appointment at the Quick Care Clinic. That is when he tells me he does not want to go. His dad and I cajoled and he agreed. We walk outside and he trips falling head over heels. This has not been a good week for my baby.

His head is aching a little and as we drive along I try to hold his hand. He is not in the mood. Still a little weepy. When suddenly he announces that he is starving. I look at him and ask what he has eaten today? Nothing. We drive along and I tell him he has a choice. How is he feeling? Does he want to see the Nurse Practitioner? T tells me that he is feeling better. He is hungry.

I ask again what he would like for supper? He says to me you mean lunch right mom? Okay buddy what do you want? McDonald’s mom. I am really hungry.

I stared at him. The good mom is already nattering away, ‘Jay don’t you dare. He has not had anything substantial to eat in 72 hours. That is not the way to go.’ Mom who is experiencing reality and relief ‘Jay let the boy have whatever he wants so long as he eats it.’ T did ask for milk with his happy meal and drank it all. As well as eating everything.

As I sit here typing this, he is curled up in his bed, eating half a freezie watching Youtube. He was cracking jokes and making fun of me earlier so I know that he is on the upswing.

T is my life. Nothing and no body matters more to me than he does. That I could not be there for him each and every day that he was ill, when he required his mother to hold him and cuddle him, rips my heart asunder. The stress and fear that I felt because he was not in my presence, where I could ensure his well being, was crippling.

T is my life. He is my heart. He is my soul. He is my inspiration. He is the reason why I want to achieve and be a better person. And he is the only boy (man) who has the ability to rip the heart from my chest. And I will love him forever.

 

Are you dying?

Mom is a trained nurse. She is tough. When the bro and me were younger we so did not even dare to get sick during the week. Mom even brags about how good we were, always saving our sickness for the weekends. I can only remember staying home once and that was when I had Scarlet Fever and only than because we had a babysitter coming to the house.

My brother has asthma and rarely did he have an attack the precipitated a visit to the emergency room. I recall, again, only one incident. And it was late. Or later in the day on a holiday. I want to say Thanksgiving but am not sure.

This has lead me to going to work and pushing myself hard when I should be at home. In bed, sleeping and sipping hot drinks. Not cashiering and talking to/sneezing on my staff and customers. I have to suck it up though for I constantly hear my mom asking me if I am dead. (Inside joke dead or in the hospital the only way one was allowed to stay home).

Flash forward to yesterday when T is at M’s because Auntie K cannot watch him after school. Apparently he crawled right into K’s bed and told M had had been cold all day. I talked to him briefly re soccer and at first he wanted to go but two minutes later M is calling me to tell me he got out of bed and began to cry.

By the time I got home he had been let into the house and was curled up in his bed. I could feel the heat coming off him. I was able to persuade him to take a Tylenol which seemed to bring the fever down. Still had a headache and his tummy hurt. I fed him some soup and he was off  and into bed by 9 p.m. without a fight. Asleep in like 2 minutes.

Had to wake him up this morning at 5 to take him to the babysitter’s. Again I could feel the heat coming off of him and he began to cry. It hurt his head to stand and walk, his tummy was hurting again. I felt horrible but needed to be at work. I dropped him off with heavy heart and went to work.

My mind was not there. I went through and got everything done in record time. Everything from settling the store to getting inventory done. Watching and waiting for  8:30 a.m. so I can call the doctor’s office. In the two minutes it took me to get through this morning, our family doctor was fully booked up but we were able to get into the same day clinic.

I was frantic when Auntie K called to tell me T had a temperature of 103 but she had given him some Tylenol and he had eaten an orange. I no longer even had a thought about work. I watched the clock to 9:30 when my second got in. Raced through the doing of exceptions and tobacco daily inventory so I could be out by 10 a.m.

I ran across the parking lot which should give you an indication of how scared and worried I was. I may move at a fast walk but rarely do I break into a run. Got home transferred T from the van to my car. Talked with Auntie K for a few minutes and than we all went our separate ways.

T brings his stuffed dog into the doctor’s office. He ended up wearing my coat because he was freezing. And he cannot get comfortable. Wants to lie down but has grown so big that he is draped across my lap. He sat with his head on my lap and I ran my fingers through his hair and across his back. T was not happy. He had no questions and even my attempt at a lame joke went completely unanswered.

Finally we see the doctor. His temperature is down in the normal range. Ears and throat are good. Headache not good but manageable. It is the stomach that is of concern. And of course in my head dances the possibility that his appendix is the culprit. He told the doctor where it hurt while she was poking and prodding. Thankfully it was not his appendix.

Viral gastroenteritis. An inflammation of the stomach lining due to a virus. Usually includes all T’s symptoms with the added bonus of diarrhea and puking. Thank goodness T does not have those two symptoms. Diarrhea I can live with, but I am a sympathetic thrower upper. The minute I hear someone throwing up my own begins to rise. In all his life T has puked on me once, he sat up in bed and blach! I made the ex clean it up.

So we came home. And he took over the couch. Binge watching Teen Titans and suffering with the pain as best he can. He finally caved and had half an antacid which I was told to give him because it might help. I am making him drink a bit of milk and praying that he does not end up throwing that back up. (Milk thrown back up is disgusting.)

Where I may not look after myself and see the doctor unless I am in deep distress, I do not wait for T to get that bad. But there are sickness rules; if you are sick you are not allowed to play with your friends. You may watch t.v. but there is none of this racing around, you have to lay on the couch. T willingly follows all these rules. Which is when I know that he is truly ill. Oh yeah, and he had no questions for the doctor. Usually, he asks tons of questions as he wants to know everything. Today none of that.