Going UP

A few weeks ago I was sitting on the playground with my children. I was visiting with another Mama who was watching her littles play, and the atmosphere was chill. I love those days. No worries. Nowhere to be. No one crying or needy but coming by often enough to get kisses and nods of approval at the bouquet of weeks freshly picked. Heaven, I tell you.

The other Mama watched my boys race each other UP the slide and turned to me and asked a question I'd never considered before. "Do you allow your boys to climb up the slide?" Well, yes. Why wouldn't I? Why do I care which direction they go on the slide? If it's more fun going up, I say go for it. Play on, brothers. Play on.

Her question makes sense in hindsight. Last week my big boys were in VBS, but since there was no program for littles under 3, I had the two babies all week. My Aaron needs a routine and was bothered by leaving the two big brothers every morning, so we developed a new routine--drop the big boys off and head for Chick-fil-A where we ate breakfast together, then played on the playground and fed the birds our leftover biscuits. Every single morning I saw other kids rush out the glass door to the play enclosure and head straight for the slide--going up. Do you know that Mama after Mama insisted that those kids climb the stairs and go down the slide like civilized little playground users?

I think the other Mamas were trying for something very noble--respect. If you're going up the slide, those who are trying to come down can't reach the bottom. The thing is, my Aaron got off the slide anytime someone else was trying to come down. Being aware of others--now that's respectful.

I loudly praised him when he made it particularly far up the twisty slide. I'm sure the other Mamas glared. But the Mama at playgroup and I get it. Chill. Create your own sense of chill. Play on.

Dear Aaron

Dear Aaron,

You turned 2 on Saturday. I can't wrap my mind around it. It seems like you went to bed a baby and woke up a little boy.

Sweet Aaron, I remember so clearly looking at your tiny squash-colored body and worrying that you were jaundiced. I remember sitting in the doctor's office as they pricked your heel and tried not to worry me. I remember getting the phone call that afternoon to go immediately to the hospital. I remember crying as they took you from me and pricked you again and put an IV in your foot. I remember sitting by your side counting the minutes until I could pick you up for those precious few moments every two hours--for days. And, Aaron, I remember exactly how it felt to hold you for the first time after all this, without cords tethering you to medical equipment. It was just you and me again. It felt beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

I don't think I put you down for a month after all that. I held you while I ate my lunch. I held you when you napped. I held you even at night. I rubbed your tiny feet every day so that you wouldn't develop a fear of being touched on the foot after all the pricks. I wanted you to feel how much I loved you.

And you cried, little Aaron. You cried and cried and cried. You cried for hours every day no matter what I did. I was so frustrated. And I was disappointed because I wanted so much for things to be perfect. I wanted to be the perfect mom this time around, and I just couldn't pull it off. On a whim, I ordered a sling. I put you in and--insert chorus of angels--you stopped crying. You fell asleep on my chest all snuggled in your sling. I could smell your powdery goodness and kiss the top of your fuzzy head as you dozed. And you know what? Things were perfect...well, almost perfect.

Aaron, when you laugh, your entire body laughs. You kiss your baby brother and try to share your toys with him. You adore your big brothers and mimic every move they make. You charm the socks off of everyone you meet. Your eyes are the most beautiful almond shape. You talk on the phone in a whispery voice that melts me. You're perfect...well, almost perfect. You find trouble. And when I redirect you to something else, you find trouble again. And again. And again. You STAY in trouble. Oh, but your sweet mischievous smile. You find trouble, and I scold you, and you give me that smile, and I forget how mad I was. And we repeat. Over and over and over.

Little Aaron, we joke that you're our future football player. We kid that all your roughness will pay off someday when you sign the contract to be a linebacker. And if that makes you happy, I'm right behind you. But, Aaron, if you want to be a teacher, or a scientist, or even a garbage man, Buddy, I want you to go for it. Love God and your family (in that order) and do whatever you decide to do with enthusiasm. And you'll be amazing. You ARE amazing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Mama

Good to Be

Tonight at supper I kept noticing a lady at the table next to us watching my family. I caught her eye several times, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed that I made eye contact with her. I wondered what interested her so. I wondered if she envied me with my sweet family. I didn't find it hard to imagine that. If I were someone else, I'd envy me. That's a really good feeling.

It's good to be the Mama.

The Eyebrows

What Aaron lacks in vocabulary, he makes up for in facial expressions. This particular look says, "You again? Go. Go now. Leave me alone with my Mama."

Have Wet Bag. Will Travel.

My husband says we've become hippies. He's referring to this:


That's Aaron in a cloth diaper. Is it the cutest thing you've ever seen? I decided to buy a couple of cloth diapers and give it a trial run. I love it. I ordered 16 more. Want another peek?

Okay, that's some serious bedhead, but how cute is that bright red caboose?

The first time I changed a dirty diaper, I had a little panic. I was pretty sure this was all a big mistake. But now I've gotten the hang of it, and I am in love. It's easy. And they are SO cute.

So, the big question is WHY, OH WHY would you choose to do this when there are great disposables out there? Oh, thanks for asking. First, there are health benefits. Disposables contain Dioxin, Tributyl-tin, and sodium polyacrylate. These have been linked to cancer, hormonal problems, and toxicity (respectively). Also, boys who wear disposables are at risk for reproductive problems. Then there's the cost factor. Disposables save money, no doubt about it (although if you become a diaper addict, as I fear I might, the cost savings is harder to see!) And, of course, cloth diapering is much greener.

I had intended to ease into this. I would start putting Aaron in cloth while we were at home, but keep using disposables while we were out. But now that I'm spoiled to cloth, I just can't stand to put a rough, toxic disposable on him. He wore cloth to church on Sunday, and the nursery worker (bless her) didn't complain a bit.

Last week we made a trip to Chattanooga to visit Daddy. I packed a bag full of cloth diapers, a couple extra sets of clothes (I haven't quite figured out how to tell when the diapers are wet yet!), and my brand new (and very cute) wet bag. I really thought about packing a box of disposables, just in case, but I thought better of it. We did great. I considered our first road trip in cloth diapers to be our official crossover to a cloth diapering family.

...Or hippies, as Mike would say.

Dr. Doctor,

Dr. Doctors of the World,

We would very much appreciate it if you would stop having your nurses call us to give us lab results. Your nurses, while very kind and well-intentioned, do not understand what they are reporting. They are able to read "positive" or "negative" and repeat as many times as is necessary to get us off the phone, but ask them a question and they are lost. We pay you a LOT of money. Seriously, pick up the phone and call us yourselves.

Sincerely,
Your Patients

So, yeah, Aaron's on ear infection #10. On Monday only his left ear was infected, but since then his right ear has started draining nastiness, so I feel pretty sure it's infected now too. I have adamantly refused to put him on any more antibiotics until a lab culture reads positive for some kind of bad bacteria. But, alas, two cultures in a row have come back negative. The nurse on the phone seemed just as baffled as I was as to why the good doctor was so very sure there were bacteria eating away at my son's eardrum when the lab results show the opposite. Last time she told me perhaps the ear infection was viral. At my next visit the doctor he said that he didn't think that was the case and ordered another culture, which came back negative today. This time the nurse told me directly that she just didn't know why the culture would read negative. I asked her why we were treating a non-bacterial infection with antibiotic ear drops (which I did reluctantly agree to use because the doctor assured me it was necessary, even if we didn't give him an oral antibiotic), and she didn't know. I asked her if I should bring Aaron back in to be re-examined, and she didn't know. I asked her how I would know if the ear tube got blocked or if it healed itself. She didn't know. I asked her if I should have the newly infected ear looked at, and she said she didn't know. She diligently wrote down my questions and told me she would call me back with the answers. I asked her why the doctor couldn't call me himself, and she assured me he was very busy with surgeries. I think I'm done with this doctor. Anyone know a really good ear, nose, throat doctor in Knoxville?

Parenting is Dangerous

Aaron is having a terrible tantrum. He wants me to put him down, but as soon as I do, he screams and tries to climb up my leg. I pick him up and he struggles to get down. I'm tired. I don't know why he's so grumpy, and at this moment I don't really care. I just want him to stop screaming for five minutes so I can close my eyes for a second before I have to go downstairs and cook supper. I hold him tight hoping that he'll settle into my embrace. He struggles. He throws his head back. The hard part of his head hits the bridge of my nose. It makes a horrible cracking noise, and pain shoots through my entire body. I swear I see lights. I think for a moment that I might have been struck by lightening. My husband runs into the room and looks terrified. I realize that I'm crying and that I can't speak yet. It hurts. A. LOT.

That was yesterday. Today my nose is still very sore. I can't wear glasses at all because I can't stand anything touching the bridge of my nose. I even flinched when putting on makeup because the mineral brush hurt just brushing across my nose. There's a big bump at the top, and it's a bit swollen. I'm pretty sure it's broken, although I don't fully understand how you can break a nose if it's all cartilage. I'll read up on that when I can hold my eyes open long enough. For now, I'm thinking it's time to head to bed.

Oh, and we did find out why poor Aaron is so grumpy. He has an ear infection in both ears. Yes, ear infections again. He had tubes less than 2 months ago, and we're already on our second round of ear infections. Two weeks ago they had to reopen his tubes because they were blocked AND infected. Seriously, this kid can't catch a break. It's no wonder he's so mad he wants to break his mother's nose. And he has a big bump on the back of his head in the shape of my nose.

My Toddler

Aaron Michael, 1 year ago

My baby Aaron turned one today. One. Whole. Year. He's a toddler. Well, he's still MY baby. And, following in the tradition I started with my other boys, here are the things that I love most about him.

His cheeks are so soft and chubby. I can't walk past him without kissing them.

His hair won't lay down no matter how hard I try. It has a mind of its own--just like Aaron.

He bullies his big brothers.

He throws things from his high chair and laughs. And it's so cute I pick them up every time.

He holds everything to his ear as though it's a phone. He's been known to talk on the cello-case-phone, paper-towel-tube-phone, graham-cracker-phone, and the diaper-cream-phone. He really carries on a conversation too. I wonder what he's talking about?

He explores--but not too far. He always comes back to me.

He gives the best slobbery kisses in the world.

He has had more ear infections than I care to count this winter, but he's still sweet and bubbly.

He squints his eyes and throws his head back and whines when he's mad. And then he stops and opens his eyes to see if you noticed.

He smells so sweet I can't stand it.

He loves his brothers more than anything in the world. Even in the midst of a terrible tantrum, he will stop and smile if he sees one of them approaching him.

He darts his tongue in and out while making silly noises. We call him our lizard.

He laughs at himself.

When he says Mama in his precious baby voice, it makes all the middle of the night feedings, diaper explosions, mealtime messes, grocery store tantrums, stretch marks, and countless trips to the pediatrician all worth it.

He's taught me to slow down, stop trying to make things perfect, and just enjoy the moment.

Just look at him. What's not to love?

Aaron Michael, this afternoon

Wear the Aare Bear, Mama Bear

These days, I'm babywearing. My sweet Aaron (Aare Bear, as I've taken to calling him) demands to be held at all times. I researched the best wraps and slings to find the perfect one for us. I decided on a Peanut Shell pouch sling. He LOVES it. No matter how fussy he is, I can pop him in there and he'll be content (sometimes even asleep) within minutes. The maker claims I can wear him until he's 35 pounds. I guess they're sending me a personal trainer to buff up too? He will be 6 months tomorrow. 6 months. Half a year. That's 1/36 of my time with him. Okay, probably a little dramatic. Taking a deep breath.

I'm feeling overwhelmed with life today. This morning the boys were especially petulant, and I wasn't at my most patient as I threw clothes on them and tried to get out the door. Ei pooped all over everything 10 minutes before we had to leave, and my only choice was to throw him in the shower. I am at my wit's end with potty training (or lack thereof). I couldn't keep Aaron in his sling while I was cleaning the mess, so he was wailing from his exersaucer. Jackson thought of 500 things that he needed, and I fussed at him to leave me alone. We finally got in the car, and I unloaded them at Nana's. She told me she wanted a diaper on Ei, which I completely ignored. I understand her concern (refer to Monday's post), but I can't take two steps back in process. It was rainy and gross outside. An 18-wheeler changed lanes on the interstate too close to me, and suddenly, I wanted to cry. I dumped them in Nana's house and left with a half-hearted kiss on each of their cheeks. What if the truck had hit me and I never had the chance to make peace with my kids? I'm the grown-up here. I can't believe I let myself get so worked up over normal kid stuff. But I did make it back, and I grabbed them up and kissed all over them as soon as I did.

Okay, last random thought... I took Jackson to his cello lesson this afternoon. Yes, my 4 year old takes cello. I know that everyone who hears that thinks that I'm one of those crazy whip-cracking moms who makes their kids take music lessons and practice French in their spare time, but I promise I'm not. He wants to play the cello. So, off to cello lessons we go. His teacher is really sweet, and he likes her very much. At home, he is so excited about this whole experience. At the lesson, however, it's a different story. He sucks in his cheeks the way he does when he's nervous, and he refuses to speak. He won't make eye contact with her, and his limbs jerk rather than move fluidly. I knew he was shy, but this seems a bit extreme. So, of course my mind goes to dark places and I worry. Breathe.

So, I can't seem to potty train my middle child. I can't seem to socialize my oldest. But I can wear the Aare Bear and solve all his problems. So, I wear on. He's almost 20 pounds. I am going to need a backup plan for what to do 16 pounds from now.