Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Mommy's Role

I always figured the way I would raise my kids would be some kind of a cross between Kevin's mom from 'The Wonder Years' and Lucy Ricardo. Some sweet snuggles, home cooked meals, wise and loving lessons, and then a few ridiculous bursts of chaos and temper. Also I'd probably leave my kids with the neighbors a few times a week to chase my dreams of singing in a nightclub.

And I'd say with my little kids I'm pretty spot on. I can sit Vegas in time out with one hand and make pot roast with the other, expertly kiss a boo-boo and decide if it needs a band-aid or a silly song, and read Pete the Cat so many times it makes my eyes cross and my ears bleed. And yes, I definitely enjoy hanging out at my local community theater or with friends away from my kids for reasonable amounts of time.

But it's harder with Little Man. I don't always feel like I'm able to just mother him. I feel like I do a mediocre job of being his Mommy because I'm busy also being Doctor, or Therapist, or Advocate. I think I miss some of the sweet easy moments of his childhood because I'm too busy scheduling his next appointment or researching private schools and therapy. I feel disconnected from mothering as I grasp his chin in my hands and study his gaze while I administer a syringe of medication. Instead of assuming my kid wants to snuggle with me after school, I worry that he's coming over to me to bite or tantrum and hit. Basically it's more common for me to be worrying about what can and does go wrong than to be content and present with what is happening right now.

Just typing that makes me cry angry, guilty tears. I hear the admonishments in my head to "cherish the moments", but how can I when I'm thinking twenty steps ahead every day? Little Man's needs are becoming so overwhelming lately. His tantrums are bigger and angrier, his medical needs more urgent, and the gap between him and any kid his age is more pronounced than ever. I feel like Mommy has taken a backseat to all the other roles he needs from me recently. My love for him never changes, but the way I mother him... I just feel inadequate. I hold on to the hope that my actions and decisions are what is best for him. That he understands somehow that I'm still Mommy under the stress and worry and fear and other roles I take on for him. Definitely not the Mommy I thought I'd be for him, but hopefully the Mommy he needs.
Little Man and Mommy

Monday, July 17, 2017

Wet, Hot, Summer

Little Man's doctor has yet to call me back about his Botox appointment. Hopefully he gets back to us soon, because you can really see a huge decrease in his mobility lately. In all areas except removing his mother-ducking-pajama suit. After a good year and some change, he can now remove pajamas that we have zipped up backwards with the feet removed and sewn on again.
Cheeseball modeling his regular jams, Little Man in modified jams.
So every morning it is like waking up to that toilet monster from 'Dogma' in Little Man's room. I'd link a photo of that too but... nah, Google it, if you really need to see that mess. It's diaper off, gross stuff everywhere. For now he seems less inclined to touch any of it than he used to be - thankfully. But we're still having a bath and room scrub every morning again and it is exhausting. Next step is possibly finding a way to secure the zipper in the back so he can't pry it open and over his shoulders (I think that is how he's doing it)... either with tape or a fastener of some kind.

This summer has been pretty blissfully quiet the last few weeks as Little Man and Vegas both started camps. Of course they're in camps on opposite sides of town and random weekdays, but my in-laws have been amazing at helping with drop offs and pickups so it's been smooth sailing. It's also been a really good time to get household things done and relax with Cheeseball. Today is much less relaxing though, because I'm missing bulk grocery shopping and my workout to wait for someone to fix our air conditioner. It's a sticky 80 degrees in here now at 10:30 am, so we will be spending most of the day in front of the box fan and sipping ice waters. And then I will add to my heaping slice of mother-guilt by giving Cheeseball a dose of Tylenol for the low-grade fever (teething?) we didn't catch for a night because it's so hot in here. Call before you come over, we're living in our diapers and sports bras today.