Thank God
Thank God, it's not his true colors glaring through. It's just a virus showing up, or a sinus infection, I'm thinking. Little boy isn't feeling well today. He's got a sore throat and a headache, he says. I noticed this morning that he wasn't his usual mile-a-minute talking, pert self. Rushing me out the door and glowering at me from the sidewalk when I have to run in for "just one more thing!". Instead, he was complacent and quiet. I should have known and made him stay home. Hopefully the babysitter's little guy doesn't get sick. Part of me thinks that he's faking it to stay home, but then again, he was really looking forward to seeing Anna (I think he has a crush on the fill-in babysitter). I asked him this morning if he wanted to stay home and he said "no" he wanted to go to Anna. At the moment, he is staring dazed, at the TV, watching Shark Tale and picking his continually dripping nose. Not really a drip, per se, as a constant oozing of ... well, you get the point. Not really a slime, but a sludge. Yuck.
What is it with mothers? We scream over spiders and shiver at snakes, yet we can and will discuss poop and snot without batting an eyelash, with perfect strangers. The only thing we need in common is a kid and a willingness to spill the dirt, or snot as the case may be.
Especially mothers with babies. Put two mothers w/ babes in a room and they can entertain themselves without interference from outside world for HOURS. Discussions of throw up, diapers and mucus abound betwixt mothers with babies. What is that about? People who, before motherhood, that would walk into a different room to blow/pick their noses can casually toss around conversation about snot in the company of... who cares(?) without stopping for breath. Hmmm... must be something about labor and leaving the hospital and your dignity behind, huh? Really, I think that it basically comes down to the fact that when you have a new baby, you are obsessed about everything that pertains to your little bundle of not so much joy. Does his breathing sound funny to you? My god, that stinks, do you think she caught that bug that is going around China? Good cryin' out loud, that kid pukes a lot, do you think she ingested bleach, lye, de-wormer, fertilizer? Seriously, new mothers are obsessed and I suppose it comes from spending SOO much of your energy towards one little human that you naturally become completely and totally immersed in anything baby. I know I did.
I used to lay in bed for hours, eyes open and staring at the ceiling in a complete, sleep deprived haze. Holding my breath until he took his next one. Sitting at the side of the bassinet, peering over the edge at the boy laying there, thinking "My God, I can't take care of him. I can't be who and what he needs me to be". I always wanted to be a mom and pardon me, I really am humble, but I think I do a pretty good job of it. But in those first, oh, 8 months, I was constantly terrified about everything. How much he threw up, how much he weighed, how much he ate, how much he peed, how much he pooped (or didn't). Terrified. Eventually, though you come to an understanding of yourself and of parenting. That you do what you can (namely take care of the kid's basic needs) and what you can't, it can wait. That the rest (in both senses of the word, the sleeping kind and the rest of the world kind) will come later. Laundry doesn't go anywhere, it just multiplies. A little dirt never hurt anyone, or in my case, a lot of dirt. But that boy needs someone to teach him to walk, talk, eat. Someone to feed him and cuddle him and laugh with him. Someone to change him and wash him and spend hours playing in the bathtub with him. The rest will get done when it gets done.
I catch myself worrying every now and again, still. The worrying, it doesn't go away. I worry now that he doesn't know his ABC's or how to count to 20 and he's ALREADY 4, for god's sake! But I try to remind myself of what I (and my family) have already taught him. The things that he'll carry with him all his life. That his mama will walk through fire (maybe even wildfire, at that!) for him. He does know how to share (although it takes some prodding), he does know how to say "Please" and "Thank You" (again, SOME prodding). He knows how to laugh, the good, from your gut belly laughs that feel so good. He knows that laughing until you cry makes all the sense in the world and it's one of THE best things, ever. He knows how to say "I love you" with complete and true feeling. He knows what hugs and cuddling with mom on sunny afternoons feels like. He knows that he can go to Aunt Merce's and get the same love there. He also knows how to make people laugh, which explains how he gets out of a lot of pretty rough spots. He is starting to know the Cowboy Way, that old fashioned, gentleman way of thinkin'. He holds doors for me, which I don't know that he's seen a lot of, I am thinking it's just him... Just some old fashioned sense that lives inside of his old soul. He also knows that he's supposed to be lying on the couch because he is sick, instead he's crawling around, pretending to be a cat. Friggin' rotten child. God, I do so love him.
What is it with mothers? We scream over spiders and shiver at snakes, yet we can and will discuss poop and snot without batting an eyelash, with perfect strangers. The only thing we need in common is a kid and a willingness to spill the dirt, or snot as the case may be.
Especially mothers with babies. Put two mothers w/ babes in a room and they can entertain themselves without interference from outside world for HOURS. Discussions of throw up, diapers and mucus abound betwixt mothers with babies. What is that about? People who, before motherhood, that would walk into a different room to blow/pick their noses can casually toss around conversation about snot in the company of... who cares(?) without stopping for breath. Hmmm... must be something about labor and leaving the hospital and your dignity behind, huh? Really, I think that it basically comes down to the fact that when you have a new baby, you are obsessed about everything that pertains to your little bundle of not so much joy. Does his breathing sound funny to you? My god, that stinks, do you think she caught that bug that is going around China? Good cryin' out loud, that kid pukes a lot, do you think she ingested bleach, lye, de-wormer, fertilizer? Seriously, new mothers are obsessed and I suppose it comes from spending SOO much of your energy towards one little human that you naturally become completely and totally immersed in anything baby. I know I did.
I used to lay in bed for hours, eyes open and staring at the ceiling in a complete, sleep deprived haze. Holding my breath until he took his next one. Sitting at the side of the bassinet, peering over the edge at the boy laying there, thinking "My God, I can't take care of him. I can't be who and what he needs me to be". I always wanted to be a mom and pardon me, I really am humble, but I think I do a pretty good job of it. But in those first, oh, 8 months, I was constantly terrified about everything. How much he threw up, how much he weighed, how much he ate, how much he peed, how much he pooped (or didn't). Terrified. Eventually, though you come to an understanding of yourself and of parenting. That you do what you can (namely take care of the kid's basic needs) and what you can't, it can wait. That the rest (in both senses of the word, the sleeping kind and the rest of the world kind) will come later. Laundry doesn't go anywhere, it just multiplies. A little dirt never hurt anyone, or in my case, a lot of dirt. But that boy needs someone to teach him to walk, talk, eat. Someone to feed him and cuddle him and laugh with him. Someone to change him and wash him and spend hours playing in the bathtub with him. The rest will get done when it gets done.
I catch myself worrying every now and again, still. The worrying, it doesn't go away. I worry now that he doesn't know his ABC's or how to count to 20 and he's ALREADY 4, for god's sake! But I try to remind myself of what I (and my family) have already taught him. The things that he'll carry with him all his life. That his mama will walk through fire (maybe even wildfire, at that!) for him. He does know how to share (although it takes some prodding), he does know how to say "Please" and "Thank You" (again, SOME prodding). He knows how to laugh, the good, from your gut belly laughs that feel so good. He knows that laughing until you cry makes all the sense in the world and it's one of THE best things, ever. He knows how to say "I love you" with complete and true feeling. He knows what hugs and cuddling with mom on sunny afternoons feels like. He knows that he can go to Aunt Merce's and get the same love there. He also knows how to make people laugh, which explains how he gets out of a lot of pretty rough spots. He is starting to know the Cowboy Way, that old fashioned, gentleman way of thinkin'. He holds doors for me, which I don't know that he's seen a lot of, I am thinking it's just him... Just some old fashioned sense that lives inside of his old soul. He also knows that he's supposed to be lying on the couch because he is sick, instead he's crawling around, pretending to be a cat. Friggin' rotten child. God, I do so love him.
posted by Lori | 1:20 PM
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