“Mama… It hurts. It hurts.” Kaden is crying out in pain. I enter the living room and there he is bow legged and jammies half unzipped. The zipper stops right at his crotch. I know exactly what and why it hurts. My stomach drops.
I ask to look. He tells me no. I explain I have to look even if he wants to pull out his jammies (I show him with my collar as I move it away from my skin), so I can take a peek. I tell him I have to help him unzip jammies. He has tears pooling over his big brown eyes. “Mama is it going to hurt?”
This is the moment of the brave. I can’t ask him to be strong if I am unable hold back my own tears. His question put a vice right around my throat. I knelt down to his level and put my hands on his waist I felt my lips quiver as he looked at me for reassurance. “Kaden, it may hurt. I don’t know. We have to be brave and do this together.”
The pool in his eyes became the river down his face: “NO, Mama! I don’t want YOU to hurt me!” The vice tightened and I couldn’t keep up with my thoughts. At this moment I wanted to pass on the Momhood badge "Freeing pee-pee from zippper". I don't need the honor.
I had not given thought to issues I’d have to face with being a mom of two boys. I just found I was grateful to avoid the conversations, moods and issues usually associated with daughters. Heck, boys are supposed to be maintenance free, right? As parents of son's we have a conversation about safe sex, toss them a condom and send them on their way… (Okay, I am abbreviating this a little!). Anyway, I have been prepared with a first aid kit for the blood and band aids for the ouies, which leave no marks. This is what I signed up for.I didn’t prepare myself to enter a living room to rescue my three-year-olds pee-pee from the grips of his footie jammies. This I was 100% unprepared.
I did what I always do. I turned to food. I offered him a Popsicle. He declines. He saw this as his opportunity and asked for a Christmas sucker. There is one left and boy howdy he can have it. Now, Ashton sees me in the drawer and is demanding a look-see for something sweet. He wants the sucker. He gets PEZ.
He is calming down. I lay him down on the couch. I touch the zipper and he screams. I wonder, "Do I ice him?" I really am at a loss here. I act on my next thought. I grab my phone and call Adam.
He tells me there is one way and one way only to do this. It is going to hurt, but I have to do it. I then here, “Hey, do you know how to get a small pee-pee out of a zipper?” His coworker had no magic to offer.
When I have blood drawn I like people to talk to me. I forget what is going on. I go to this method. I keep my hand on the zipper and start talking to him. I ask him if he wants to sing. He doesn’t. He wants to know why my hand is on the zipper and keeps asking the wrenching question: "Are you going to hurt me, Mama?"
I back off of him. I am getting nauseous. Do I go up? Do I pull down? Do I zip quickly like ripping of a band aid? Do I move slowly to be sure there is no injury?
I call The Church’s.
“Hello, Les… Is Inez there?” If he answers the phone I already know she is out of the house. “Okay, well I have a situation. Kaden zipped up his pee-pee and I am not sure how to unzip him.” Les, “What is that, Hun?” I repeat myself, “Kaden zipped up his pee-pee and I am not sure what to do?” Les, “Okay, Hun, what is going on?” I get a little louder, “Kaden got his penis caught in his zipper. What do I do?” Les, “Oh Man, oooo oooo oooo that hurts! (He giggles) You just have to do it. Hun, do you want me to come and do it?” I explain my anxiety, but that I can do it. With great assurance and no apprehension he tells me to do it as quick as I can. And again, he reiterates it is going to hurt.
I get off the phone and turn around looking at my son watching “Klipper the Dog” and sucking on his sucker wide eagle. I go back to my position. I grab a hold of the zipper. He asks what I am doing. I ask him to tell me the colors on his lollypop. “Oh, there is red, blue and…” I pull up.
I feel the zipper teeth move over his flesh.
I feel like I am going to passout. I pray: Please, please don't distrust me after this, Kade. Please, don't be mad at me. Please, let this moment pass quickly..."
He looks down. He is free! He smiles with gladness. He wants to check his parts out. All looks fine.
“Mama, see I am a tough guy!” He exclaims. “You don’t have to worry!”
No, Kaden, you are beyond tough. You are a Superhero. You have the great power to make any situation calming.
And with that Kade asked to look at Ashton’s pee-pee. He wanted to be certain Ashton's diaper won’t ‘stuck it’.
Our life and all pee-pee's are officially back to normal.
Friday, January 20, 2012
What If
What if I would have chosen to stay in Oregon City after graduating high school?
What if I would have chosen to transfer to an instate university?
What if I would have chosen a different sorority?
What if I would have chose to return home after my first winter break?
What if I would have chosen to work in Moab State Park in Utah vs Camp Wayne for Girls Summer Camp in the Pocono Mountains?
What if I would have chosen to continue to study social work?
What if I would have chosen to ignore wrong doings in my work place?
What if I would have chosen to buy a home in Arizona?
What if I would have chosen to move to Bend?
What if I would have chosen to accept a job transfer to Washington DC?
What if I would have chosen to stay home the eve before Easter?
There are people who believe the ‘grass is always greener’ or who have a case of the ‘shoulda-woulda-coulda’s’. They believe had they chosen that this would have happened. They live in the past.
Yes, hindsight is 20/20.
Perception after the fact is quite simple to figure. The challenge is to have foresight within this same vision. It is to be present and understand it isn’t the choices you didn’t make, but the choices that you do, which hold the most substance.
Honestly, I can write that I don’t live a life where I feel the grass is greener. However, I am guilty of looking back into my past. What if I had opted for the alternative to one- just one- of the above instances?
What if I would have stayed in Oregon City? Moved to Bend? Stayed home that Saturday night?
I would not have met your Dad. Before your Dad I had a list of “What if’s”
What if I never find love?
What if I never get married?
What if I never have children?
What if I never have a home?
What if I am never happy?
I will never know the answers; and I am so pleased.
If I question my choices I question the life I am living. Granted, I didn’t know how the chain of my choices would later affect my future, but I now see its fruit.
There is no question: I am living the life I was purposed.
What if I would have chosen to transfer to an instate university?
What if I would have chosen a different sorority?
What if I would have chose to return home after my first winter break?
What if I would have chosen to work in Moab State Park in Utah vs Camp Wayne for Girls Summer Camp in the Pocono Mountains?
What if I would have chosen to continue to study social work?
What if I would have chosen to ignore wrong doings in my work place?
What if I would have chosen to buy a home in Arizona?
What if I would have chosen to move to Bend?
What if I would have chosen to accept a job transfer to Washington DC?
What if I would have chosen to stay home the eve before Easter?
There are people who believe the ‘grass is always greener’ or who have a case of the ‘shoulda-woulda-coulda’s’. They believe had they chosen that this would have happened. They live in the past.
Yes, hindsight is 20/20.
Perception after the fact is quite simple to figure. The challenge is to have foresight within this same vision. It is to be present and understand it isn’t the choices you didn’t make, but the choices that you do, which hold the most substance.
Honestly, I can write that I don’t live a life where I feel the grass is greener. However, I am guilty of looking back into my past. What if I had opted for the alternative to one- just one- of the above instances?
What if I would have stayed in Oregon City? Moved to Bend? Stayed home that Saturday night?
I would not have met your Dad. Before your Dad I had a list of “What if’s”
What if I never find love?
What if I never get married?
What if I never have children?
What if I never have a home?
What if I am never happy?
I will never know the answers; and I am so pleased.
If I question my choices I question the life I am living. Granted, I didn’t know how the chain of my choices would later affect my future, but I now see its fruit.
There is no question: I am living the life I was purposed.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
SNOW DAY
Today was a day that takes me back to fond childhood memories: SNOW DAYS.
Snow days were special, no magical. They were the days Mom (GG) made hot cocoa with warm milk. We would eat grilled cheese sandwiches or fresh homemade cookies. As cold as it might have been outside these were days of comfort.
We were not your ‘outdoorsy’ family. On the rare snow days we had year-to-year we may or may not have the proper attire. We wouldn’t always have mittens or gloves. On the off years she would wrap our hands in old socks. Yep, we wore old athletic socks on our hands. It worked like a charm.
As we were not ‘outdoorsy’ we didn’t play hard in the snow. A snowman here and a snowball there, but most of the time we just walked around. Jana is only a few years my senior and due to Grammy and Papa living two houses down she would join Uncle Jake and I out on our street. Since the street was a short dead end we would ‘skate’ in our KEDS down the road. We also used our feet as sleds. We would stand tall and others would push us by our backs down the slick street.
These days were full of amusement, friends and family. A time of enjoyment for those in play and as well as for those having a quiet moment tucked away inside.
We went up the mountain with Ta-Ta and played in the snow. It was a first for you both.
The four of us had a delightful time. Kaden you built a snowman. It was only as tall as my shin due to the snow being fresh powder.
We blew bubbles into the snow drift.
Ashton you were so bundled you literally fell face first into the snow. You laid there content dipping your face into the snow eating it.
I was unprepared without a hat or proper gloves. It wasn’t cold, but wet.
On these snow days, I find I am repeating my childhood comforts. We are drinking steamed cocoa and snacking on fresh baked brownies. We eat grilled sandwiches and chicken noodle soup. Our house has a draft, but I have never felt warmer!
And, yes, you had mittens…
Snow days were special, no magical. They were the days Mom (GG) made hot cocoa with warm milk. We would eat grilled cheese sandwiches or fresh homemade cookies. As cold as it might have been outside these were days of comfort.
We were not your ‘outdoorsy’ family. On the rare snow days we had year-to-year we may or may not have the proper attire. We wouldn’t always have mittens or gloves. On the off years she would wrap our hands in old socks. Yep, we wore old athletic socks on our hands. It worked like a charm.
As we were not ‘outdoorsy’ we didn’t play hard in the snow. A snowman here and a snowball there, but most of the time we just walked around. Jana is only a few years my senior and due to Grammy and Papa living two houses down she would join Uncle Jake and I out on our street. Since the street was a short dead end we would ‘skate’ in our KEDS down the road. We also used our feet as sleds. We would stand tall and others would push us by our backs down the slick street.
These days were full of amusement, friends and family. A time of enjoyment for those in play and as well as for those having a quiet moment tucked away inside.
We went up the mountain with Ta-Ta and played in the snow. It was a first for you both.
The four of us had a delightful time. Kaden you built a snowman. It was only as tall as my shin due to the snow being fresh powder.
We blew bubbles into the snow drift.
Ashton you were so bundled you literally fell face first into the snow. You laid there content dipping your face into the snow eating it.
I was unprepared without a hat or proper gloves. It wasn’t cold, but wet.
On these snow days, I find I am repeating my childhood comforts. We are drinking steamed cocoa and snacking on fresh baked brownies. We eat grilled sandwiches and chicken noodle soup. Our house has a draft, but I have never felt warmer!
And, yes, you had mittens…
The Truth
I won’t lie.
I will always be truthful. The truth is: I lost my way. Dad lost his way. We lost our way the better part of 2011. I won’t go into details. The end of the story is this: we found our way back to one another. This is what matters. This is where we find the lesson.
The lesson is to step back and approach again with new eyes bringing most importantly an open heart.
It is from here I continue to write.
Welcome to a new beginning. A new promise.
Welcome to 2012, boys.
I will always be truthful. The truth is: I lost my way. Dad lost his way. We lost our way the better part of 2011. I won’t go into details. The end of the story is this: we found our way back to one another. This is what matters. This is where we find the lesson.
The lesson is to step back and approach again with new eyes bringing most importantly an open heart.
It is from here I continue to write.
Welcome to a new beginning. A new promise.
Welcome to 2012, boys.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Happy Happy
Three years. I can barely believe my first born is three years old. It doesn’t seem possible that so much time has passed. And then again, I cannot believe it has only been three years, for it feels like I have had you all of my life.
This year has been amazing. We have experienced many fun adventures. You have learned so much. I have learned so much. I constantly feel a surge of pride in the boy you are. You are all things gentle, kind, caring and nurturing. You are hilarious. I don’t know an adult who can make me laugh the way you do- constantly. It isn’t because of toddler antics, but because you are down right one funny guy.
You are polite and believe in boundaries. You walk on what is right and point out what is wrong. You are still the observer and learner. You would rather watch and then lead. You are cautious. The irony is you have no fear of water and love to ride on your toys fast and complete ‘tricks’ as we watch. You love an audience.
It is said that a parent teaches their child what they truly believe. It is in these teachings we as parents come to know what kind of person we are and understand what we believe to be important. I have learned so much about who I am through being your Mom. I didn’t realize how firmly I held true to certain thoughts, expectations and values until I parented. Again, KK you make me so proud in the system you are creating regarding your values and beliefs.
Baby love, I hope this happy-happy is all you have been waiting for over the six months. You have been anticipating and waiting for this day for a long time. I hope it is full of magic and good wishes come true. My hope is the coming year you will grow new friendships, stay true and continue to ask me to dance after lunch. I look forward to the conversations and sharing in the coming year. Please feel free to keep both your tantrums and practice of testing the limits of your independence to yourself. Keep your chin up and stay the course.
I love your guts. I love you so so much.
Oh- let me quickly answer your questions:
Yes, three comes after two. You cannot chew gum because it is your happy-happy (nice try!). You do get to go to school and wear underwear. You are a big boy, but you still need to take a rest. And nope, no more diapers with the exception of bedtime.
Happy number three, Mister Man. Happy number three. ~
Mommy
This year has been amazing. We have experienced many fun adventures. You have learned so much. I have learned so much. I constantly feel a surge of pride in the boy you are. You are all things gentle, kind, caring and nurturing. You are hilarious. I don’t know an adult who can make me laugh the way you do- constantly. It isn’t because of toddler antics, but because you are down right one funny guy.
You are polite and believe in boundaries. You walk on what is right and point out what is wrong. You are still the observer and learner. You would rather watch and then lead. You are cautious. The irony is you have no fear of water and love to ride on your toys fast and complete ‘tricks’ as we watch. You love an audience.
It is said that a parent teaches their child what they truly believe. It is in these teachings we as parents come to know what kind of person we are and understand what we believe to be important. I have learned so much about who I am through being your Mom. I didn’t realize how firmly I held true to certain thoughts, expectations and values until I parented. Again, KK you make me so proud in the system you are creating regarding your values and beliefs.
Baby love, I hope this happy-happy is all you have been waiting for over the six months. You have been anticipating and waiting for this day for a long time. I hope it is full of magic and good wishes come true. My hope is the coming year you will grow new friendships, stay true and continue to ask me to dance after lunch. I look forward to the conversations and sharing in the coming year. Please feel free to keep both your tantrums and practice of testing the limits of your independence to yourself. Keep your chin up and stay the course.
I love your guts. I love you so so much.
Oh- let me quickly answer your questions:
Yes, three comes after two. You cannot chew gum because it is your happy-happy (nice try!). You do get to go to school and wear underwear. You are a big boy, but you still need to take a rest. And nope, no more diapers with the exception of bedtime.
Happy number three, Mister Man. Happy number three. ~
Mommy
Thursday, September 8, 2011
No Cry Zone
As we get out of the car I feel pretty good. We were laughing and talking about the day ahead. We walk towards the doors and he points to the play area and shares he has ‘that, that and that.” We are still playful and walk down a short flight of stairs. The smell of cookies, glue and play-doh fill the air. I grab my chest. Nicole, do not do it. Don’t do it. I look up to the ceiling having the tears retreat back into my eyes. We have reached the No Cry Zone.
I hold his hand a little tighter and take my eyes down to look straight ahead. There it is on the wall “KADEN” written with black sharpie on a green gingerbread boy. The wind is knocked out of me. I squeeze his hand and shake my body. I adjust my posture. I ask him to stay close because Mom needs her baby. It is happening. We are going to school.
I see his teacher down the hallway, which only a moment ago was a short distance from where we stood. It now has a feeling of a photograph taken with an eye fish lens: narrow and long and everything in the distance is taller and askew. It all sits in a bubble. I am nervous, uneasy and a little hungry. The glue must be making me high.
Today is introduction to preschool day. Three one-hour sessions to play and meet as well as pay are available for students and family. I have literally been thinking of this day for 2 ½ years. He was six months old when I started researching area public and private schools. At birth I knew he was either going to be the youngest or the oldest in his class. And like I do best, I started researching and planning. What I didn’t plan for: No Cry Zone entry.
We have looked at school many times on the internet. He asked where the Pooh chair is. The teacher pointed and he ran towards it. He grabbed a book and jumped into the cushions. It is nice he is so comfortable. Never mind I am left standing in the doorway clutching a bag of school supplies gaping for what feels like my last breath. Isn’t this how he is supposed to feel? I should be planning my ‘free’ time with a joy-filled (not heavy) heart.
Mrs. Snook spent 10 minutes of one-on-one time with him. They watched the fish in the aquarium. She read to him in funny voices. She showed him a few activities and asked him about his family, favorite things and the like. Kids ran into the room looking for her. She hugged each child close right up onto her cheek. She would rub their arms, legs and even hair on a girl’s back. She is genuine. She cares. She is a nurturer. As she asks each child about something they did over the summer (she remembered so and so was going to have a sibling, go to Bend or move into a new house) she listened to their story through stutters and toddler voice. I love her. I felt the cramp in my throat working its way out.
Kade and I took the tour one more time. We looked at the bathroom. He liked the tiny toilet. He laughed and laughed at the pint size of it. We went through the snack room and into the music room. He enjoyed the ‘gym’ and climbing piece. We looped back into the entry hallway. This time it wasn’t as long as it appeared upon our arrival. It is actually a short walk and we did so quickly just as we had done through these past three years.
At the beginning of his life it felt preschool was a lifetime away. He would never fit into 3T clothes. And here I am standing in the door way between baby and boy. The path from then to now is crazy fast. It had its own fish eye moments, but it was a short quick walk, indeed.
As I am sitting in a world of symbolism his little voice squeezes my heart. “Bye-bye school. Be back yater!” His hand is in the sky waving. I can hear the laughter behind us. “Mama, can I bring Daddy to show him school?” They will be back at 6:30 to check it out again.
The two of us leave the No Cry Zone he as a preschooler and me, well a little stronger as I have to reenter the 'zone' on Tuesday. I think my (big) boy will help me get through MY first day.
I hold his hand a little tighter and take my eyes down to look straight ahead. There it is on the wall “KADEN” written with black sharpie on a green gingerbread boy. The wind is knocked out of me. I squeeze his hand and shake my body. I adjust my posture. I ask him to stay close because Mom needs her baby. It is happening. We are going to school.
I see his teacher down the hallway, which only a moment ago was a short distance from where we stood. It now has a feeling of a photograph taken with an eye fish lens: narrow and long and everything in the distance is taller and askew. It all sits in a bubble. I am nervous, uneasy and a little hungry. The glue must be making me high.
Today is introduction to preschool day. Three one-hour sessions to play and meet as well as pay are available for students and family. I have literally been thinking of this day for 2 ½ years. He was six months old when I started researching area public and private schools. At birth I knew he was either going to be the youngest or the oldest in his class. And like I do best, I started researching and planning. What I didn’t plan for: No Cry Zone entry.
We have looked at school many times on the internet. He asked where the Pooh chair is. The teacher pointed and he ran towards it. He grabbed a book and jumped into the cushions. It is nice he is so comfortable. Never mind I am left standing in the doorway clutching a bag of school supplies gaping for what feels like my last breath. Isn’t this how he is supposed to feel? I should be planning my ‘free’ time with a joy-filled (not heavy) heart.
Mrs. Snook spent 10 minutes of one-on-one time with him. They watched the fish in the aquarium. She read to him in funny voices. She showed him a few activities and asked him about his family, favorite things and the like. Kids ran into the room looking for her. She hugged each child close right up onto her cheek. She would rub their arms, legs and even hair on a girl’s back. She is genuine. She cares. She is a nurturer. As she asks each child about something they did over the summer (she remembered so and so was going to have a sibling, go to Bend or move into a new house) she listened to their story through stutters and toddler voice. I love her. I felt the cramp in my throat working its way out.
Kade and I took the tour one more time. We looked at the bathroom. He liked the tiny toilet. He laughed and laughed at the pint size of it. We went through the snack room and into the music room. He enjoyed the ‘gym’ and climbing piece. We looped back into the entry hallway. This time it wasn’t as long as it appeared upon our arrival. It is actually a short walk and we did so quickly just as we had done through these past three years.
At the beginning of his life it felt preschool was a lifetime away. He would never fit into 3T clothes. And here I am standing in the door way between baby and boy. The path from then to now is crazy fast. It had its own fish eye moments, but it was a short quick walk, indeed.
As I am sitting in a world of symbolism his little voice squeezes my heart. “Bye-bye school. Be back yater!” His hand is in the sky waving. I can hear the laughter behind us. “Mama, can I bring Daddy to show him school?” They will be back at 6:30 to check it out again.
The two of us leave the No Cry Zone he as a preschooler and me, well a little stronger as I have to reenter the 'zone' on Tuesday. I think my (big) boy will help me get through MY first day.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)