A Tale of Two Mommies

…because more seems excessive…

Tag Archives: sick parents

Eyes on the Prize

My little man at twenty months is becoming independent.  My husband and I have been talking about my son’s emerging preference to sit in a regular chair, foregoing his high chair.  Naturally, we are reluctant to do so.  But, today as I’m holding my son and preparing to feed him his lunch of chicken, orange, and milk (all elements he chose, by the way), he once again refused to sit in the high chair, and no amount of touting how special his chair was would change his mind.  At first I assumed that he wanted to dine on my lap once again.  After the last several meals conducted in such a fashion I stated that he was well enough to eat on his own.  His response was a determined pointer finger at my chair.  I inquired if he wanted to sit on the chair by himself and eat, and after he confirmed such a desire with his assertion of, “Dah,” I figure, why not?

This was not an easy decision, but it was unavoidable.  I could either suffer through a tantrum with a sleeping husband upstairs or suck it up and embrace cleaning the contents of his mean off the floor within seconds of Little Man’s upgraded dining experience.  And, just to make sure to nurture this likely catastrophe, I kept his chicken on one of our regular plates.  I know it’s Corelle, and therefore pretty hearty, but what are the chances of the dishware surviving in my son’s hands after a minute into his meal…tops?

But, as he was sitting so nicely on my chair, barely seeing over the top of the table, it was too late to switch to one of his smaller, plastic plates.  I placed his meal before him, realizing that he still needed  his milk, orange, and fork.  As my content Big Man began eating appropriately, I took a deep breath and quietly rushed to the fridge to retrieve one remaining article at a time.

I never became fully confident that my son wouldn’t toss the plate, but I could see the swell of pride as I served him.  He pointed to the placemat I forgot to drag in front of him, and he looked up at me and smiled in between sips from his cup once he was able to carefully replace his drink on the mat…just like Mommy and Daddy.

He didn’t want much of his orange, but he sat there quietly concentrating on his meal, using his fork as he has been in increasing frequency as of late.  I sat around the corner from him not wanting a perfectly good orange to go to waste.  As I began eating, Big Man looks at me and offers me his fork when he sees me dining with my hands.

His lunch didn’t last all that long, but he looked up at me when he was finished and raised his arms for me to pick him up.  Well done, my love.  Growing up so fast…

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In Sickness and in Health…But Mostly Sickness…

It’s Christmas, and by not celebrating we always inadvertently celebrate.  This year my son and I are blessed with a cold.  He’s been sick every two weeks for the last few months.  This is the first time I’ve had an illness in the last year.  I shouldn’t complain, but I will…This stinks…  My eyes are itchy.  My nose is itchy and running, albeit less than yesterday.  I can’t see through the fountain of tears, thanks to the perpetual proclivity of my eye duct work this fine supposedly winter’s day…  During one of my hourly toilet calls spaced throughout the night, I became acutely aware that my throat was absolutely killing me.  Thank goodness for small miracles; that has significantly abated.  I’m not sure if all the tea I’m sucking down has impacted that blessing, but I’ll use any excuse I can to make myself this beverage, so we’ll call it the reason to give myself permission to continue to stain my teeth.  I figure my dental appointment is in a month-and-a-half; he needs to earn his professional credentials.

Cold aside, I’ve forgotten what a good night’s sleep is like, but it seems that last night was particularly heinous;  I kept the Warrior Queen awake in the process of my comfort seeking gyrations.  Feeling her stir throughout the overnight hours was the best part of remaining awake from two to four in the morning, but that probably makes me a terrible person.  Consequently, she seems to be out cold this morning; she’s barely moved, which is highly uncharacteristic from my future Taz.  In any case, she made a noble effort to stir as I carted Little Man in this little wagon that is really purposed for obscenely large Lego-type blocks.  I haven’t really exercised all week, so I think she just appreciated the gesture.  With all of my flatulence, I’m sure hearing the rhythm of my heartbeat while I’m in motion is a pleasant diversion.  But, alas, thirty minutes later, she is sleeping again.

A sick little man is not quite so glorious as a stowaway who doesn’t complain all that much.  He’s been upset all morning because we won’t let him gnaw on the various cords in one of our desk drawers that he can apparently open even though the handles were removed.  Even with a spare USB cable, my son wants no part of the alternative.  Thankfully, my husband is home and healthy, giving me a moment to write this post and reflect on the banalities of family life…under a cloak of plague…

All of this yuckiness on a day that I’ve never liked and I think of our soon to be larger external family when two kids will be sick at the same time and probably both of us.  No one will be sleeping.  Every one will be cranky and in need of a nap, but a slumbering peace will not fall on our humble household…It never does when you most need it…  It will be absolutely miserable and draining, but sometimes even when my moist Mr. Man is looking up at me with the pained eyes of someone who hasn’t fully embraced every expression of demonstrating one’s misery, I think how amazing it is to experience all these small, uncomfortable moments that I will soon forget baring this written notion.  But, then again, maybe I’m just a bit loopy from sleep deprivation and a face I want to rip off just to make the itching stop.

 

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