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Archive for the ‘parenting’ Category
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Sunday, October 31st, 2010
I’m Losing my Mind.
Wednesday, October 6th, 2010I’m losing my mind.
Completely.
Worrying.
About him.
There’s a haze. And it’s engulfed me.
Entirely.
I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t breathe.
And yet, I do.
Because it makes others uncomfortable when I don’t.
Or if I say anything other than, “He’s fine.”
But he’s not.
Fine.
He is losing weight.
Again.
Latham.
So, we draw blood. Collect samples. And run tests.
But they can’t figure it out.
The doctors.
And so, more blood. And more samples. And more tests.
And still.
He loses weight.
And yet.
He eats. And drinks. And plays.
He laughs. And sleeps. And gives kisses.
But his single symptom is swallowing him.
Slowly.
And no one knows why.
And as I watch him, helplessly.
I’m losing my mind.
Completely.
Editor’s Note: I wrote this blog weeks ago when I was at my most desperate with Latham’s health. I didn’t want to share it with you because I was so scared. And to be honest, I still am. But I’ve always treated this blog as a journal for our family. And Latham’s health is something that needs to be chronicled in it.
This is Latham’s second serious and chronic bout with diarrhea in 6 months. It seems to pop up out of nowhere and ravage his little body for about four weeks. But really, the only two symptoms of the condition are severe weight loss and chronic diarrhea. And oddly, as soon as it starts, it stops.
Doctors have poked and prodded my 2 year old and tested him for everything from Cystic Fibrosis and Leukemia to Celiac Disease and food allergies. And they’ve found nothing. Nothing.
We have an appointment with a pediatric Gastrointestinal specialist next month and have high hopes he’ll be the one to figure out what exactly this is that’s plaguing our little Latham.
Given all the negative test results, however, our pediatrician is becoming more and more certain Latham may simply have something called Toddler’s Diarrhea. She says sometimes, toddlers have chronic diarrhea and there’s no real reason for it. It’s not what he eats. Its not what he drinks. And it’s not his surroundings. It’s just a chronic condition that most toddlers grow out of at some point as they age.
And I hope that’s all it is. Please, let that be all it is.
The One Where You Hit a Baseball
Monday, October 4th, 2010When you made eye contact with that stranger, I couldn’t help but giggle.
You smiled really big before making your eyebrows jump and wiggle.
Neither she or I could believe it; It was the most hysterical thing.
You were just like a court jester who was performing for his king.
You do stuff all the time I had no idea you could do.
Like when you picked up a pencil and drew the number 2.
“It’s a 2,” you smiled when you finished your task.
And when I realized you were right, I just sat there and gasped.
And when you gazed at the moon and called its shape a crescent,
The word you used to describe it was better than any Christmas present.
But what really surprised me was the day you picked up a bat.
You hit the ball so far, I had to search to discover where it landed at.
You impressed us so much, your dad took a video with his phone.
We’re kind of nut jobs like that, who must document every milestone.
We’re having the best time, little dude, being your parents.
And we look forward to a lifetime of your super amazing moments.
I’m Not Sure How I Knew. But I Knew.
Wednesday, August 25th, 2010I always knew I’d be the mom of two little boys.
I’m not sure how I knew.
But I knew.
I waited for you.
I longed for you.
I dreamed for you.
And now that you’re here, my boys.
I want you to know.
You are the most incredible creatures.
I am inspired by you.
I am amazed by you.
I am blessed by you.
I always knew I’d be the mom of two little boys.
I’m not sure how I knew.
But I knew.
Scott’s Stories
Monday, July 19th, 2010‘My brother-in-law grew a third boob after he showered shoeless at the gym one time,’ I remind myself as I towel off my exposed toes. ‘Too late now,’ I sigh as I make a mental note to pick up a pair of flip flops during my next Target trip.
He didn’t really grow a third boob, my brother-in-law, it just looked like one. If I were to be anatomically correct, the large lump on Scott’s chest was actually a clogged gland caused by a staph infection he contracted from showering without shoes at the gym. But don’t worry, a couple weeks and several steroid doses later, his third boob vanished.
But the story never did. Scott still tells it all the time. And every time, I laugh.
My brother-in-law is full of stories. And I love listening to them, especially the ones about him and David. Because of Scott, I feel like I’ve known David decades before I married him.
I’ve heard the one a million times about David pelting him with a pencil when they were kids. And it always ends with both boys in the emergency room with a few millimeters of lead being removed from the back of Scott’s head.
I’ve heard the one a million times about the early morning pillow fights they had when David would give his little brother 10 free hits before tearing after him in retaliation. It always ends with their dad waking from a deep sleep, red faced, and chasing after both boys in his underwear yelling at them to stop.
I’ve heard the one a million times about how 12 year old David conned an 8 year old Scott to spray the can of AquaNet at a pile of leaves they spent all morning raking. It always ends with neither of their parents being home while David lights the fluid on fire with a match. To this day, they both laugh and wonder how they made it out of that story alive. I do, too.
David and Scott have a million stories. And every time I hear them, I laugh. The lives these two brothers share is so close and so incredible, I only hope the magic their relationship holds can be sprinkled from this generation to the next.
Because Reichen and Latham are going to start making their own stories soon. And I can’t wait to hear them over, and over, and over again. And laugh.
Toddler Talk
Thursday, July 15th, 2010It’s 8:30pm, I’ve brushed his teeth, read him books, and Reichen is in my lap snuggling one more minute before bed and I whisper…
Me: “Reichen, you and Latham are the most amazing little boys in the whole world. I love you so much.”
{pause}
{pause}
Me: “What do you say when mommy says she loves you?”
Reichen: “I. Want. To. Go. To. The. Mall.”
Put Your Dukes Up
Tuesday, July 13th, 2010The way David plays with the boys is so different from the way I play with them. I play cars, read, and have picnics with them. David wrestles, tackles, and throws balls at them while they run. Seriously. And here’s the latest activity my husband has taught my 2 year old how to play, if you can call it that.
The Tale of Two Brothers
Monday, July 12th, 2010Everything your brother does, you want to do too
Riding tractors, playing cars, it doesn’t matter much to you.
You think Reichen is amazing, and of course, we agree
But as his baby brother, there’s something special that you see.
You think he’s so hilarious whenever your sibling speaks
You laugh hard, and loud, and show the dimples in your cheeks.
If Reichen takes off running, like his shadow you’re behind him
And if he’s missing a few toys, you never stop until you find them.
When your brother asks for milk, you too, beg for a cup
If a hamburger is for lunch, you both dunk it in ketchup.
Reichen calls you ‘Bob-O’, a nickname you adore
If anyone calls you ‘Latham,’ you don’t even look; you ignore.
I love how much you love him, and guess what, he loves you too
When he gets a piece of cheese, Reichen always splits it with you.
He likes to share his toys and pushes you on the swing
He throws away your trash and likes it when you sing.
Two brothers who are buddies, I couldn’t ask for anything more
I’m so excited to see the other surprises you boys have in store.
But I Still See You
Monday, June 28th, 2010My eyes hurt. So, I close them.
But I still see you.
And what you’re doing.
Underneath your smoke and mirrors.
Underneath your shiny veneers.
Underneath your magic tricks.
And I may kiss the boo boos of butterflies.
And ride to the moon with Buzz and Woody.
And sing alligators to sleep.
But I still see you.
And what you’re doing.
Even though my eyes hurt. And I’ve closed them.
Willing To Let Go
Wednesday, June 16th, 2010
Who Am I To Take Away Amazing?
Wednesday, June 2nd, 2010He wears his helmet every day whether he rides his tricycle or not, my 3 year old son. His favorite place to wear it: the car.
And I let him.
He laughs and says he feels amazing when he wears the protective piece. And I agree.
Because who am I to take away amazing?
But one day, he’ll change his mind. Some one will see him and say his helmet is not amazing.
And he’ll believe them.
I dread that day. I wish I could protect my son’s spirit from what society says is and is not amazing.
Until then, I’ll sneak peeks of his sweet face from my rear view mirror. And laugh with him when his happy helmet giggles bubble from his belly and spill all over his brother and me.
And that’s amazing.
Keeping Your Eyes on the Road is so Overrated.
Thursday, May 27th, 2010Keeping your eyes on the road with both hands on the wheel is so overrated.
Especially when there are two toddlers in the back laughing and saying, “Look at me, Mommy! Look at me, Mommy!”
Sometimes, When You Sleep, You Scream.
Monday, May 24th, 2010Sometimes, when you sleep, you scream.
The sound rips me awake.
And I run.
To you.
You’re soaked in sweat. Crumpled in covers. And tears fall from your lids.
You’re asleep.
The only sound from your struggle has been stifled in slumber.
The thick, groggy, haze holds you hostage.
And I hate it.
So, I whisper.
You’re safe. You’re loved. You’re wanted.
You’re kind. You’re funny. You’re smart.
You’re handsome. You’re sweet. You’re special.
You never need to have another nightmare again.
But if you do.
Scream.
And I’ll run.
To you.
Clutching Cars
Sunday, May 16th, 2010When you’re tired, you yawn, and start rubbing your eyes
And what you ask me to get you still makes me surprised.
“My Ramones,” you demand as soon as you lay down
And you toss, and you turn until they are found.
So we scour the house, your dad, brother, and me
We search for your Cars from the Disney movie.
It’s not Doc, Flo, or Mac; not even Lightening
It’s the low rider you crave, the cool ’59 Chevy.
“We found them,” I yell as we all bound up the stairs
I plop them in your palm which relieves your despair.
I kiss you goodnight and you smile at me sweetly
You grab your two cars and roll over completely.
I check on you later, with mouth open you’re snoring
On your belly you lie and it’s cars you’re still holding.
You think they are amazing and you love them so much
You’re my sweet little boy who sleeps with cars in his clutch.
Toddler Talk
Friday, May 14th, 2010Reichen: “Latham, you are an amazing genius. I’m so proud of you.”
What Reichen told Latham after watching him walk down the stairs for the very first time all by his 2 year old self. I melted a little bit inside when I heard it. Okay, I melted a lot of bit.
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