Monthly Archives: February 2010

Yesterday I had a little surgery on my gums. The Dentist took a bit of skin from the back of mouth on the left side and then he pulled my gums lower on the right side and added the skin he stole from the other side of my mouth. It’s the tooth next to my canine tooth so the pain is excruciating, it hurts in spasms and flashes on pain that radiate through my sinuses and right into my eye.

This morning Jane decided she wanted to go sleep over at my Dad’s house for Shabbat and spoiling. This means that Alexander will be an only child. It’ll be Mr. G, myself, My Mom and Stepdad and Alexander for dinner. I asked Alexander what he wanted for dinner and he quickly replied, “Whatever you make.”

“Honey, Mommy has a really bad headache, maybe you can pick a restaurant.” I prodded him.

“We can bring food in.” Was his quick reply.

“Alexander I’m feeling really bad, I don’t want to have to clean the kitchen.”

“It’s okay,” he responded, “Me and Dad will take care of everything.”

Dinner it is. Dinner at home, where everyone really wants to be.

I watched this in it’s entirety and I think y’all will enjoy it as well.
We’ve all had the privilege of watching Tiger Grow up, well…. he’s growing some more.

Earlier this month I had some concerns about bullying. Well, I always have concerns about bullying, but earlier this month they were urgent concerns. Y’all weighed in, and once again the comments on these two posts were incredibly helpful, insightful and always kind. You, my readers, my community, never fail to impress me.

As a result of our discussion, my friends at Parents Ask did a show addressing some our concerns. All of us.

Thanks so much to Betsy Brown Braun, Bonnie Zucker Psy.D., and Foster Cline MD for some really great advice. I’ve linked to each of their pages at Parents Ask if any one of them struck you as particularly interesting.

My relationship with my son is different than my relationship with my daughter. They are different children, though I love them both with the same intensity and I enjoy them both in so many different ways, Alexander and I are on a see saw right now.

Alexander delights, he’s the boy that makes everyone grin. He’s got a gravelly voice and inquisitive eyes, he’s full of questions and jokes and fairly brims with boyish delight.

Alexander stores data. He is the family historian in that he recalls absolutely everything we do and say, he knows what we ate, where we went and who was with us. Alexander also recalls every slight. He doesn’t let you know at the moment that you’ve hurt him, but every now and again it comes tumbling out of his body with accusations, tears and very real pain.

These episodes are often when we are smack dab in the middle of something difficult and unrelated. Learning how to cut a cloud out of a piece of paper may bring tears and a tirade of, “you never respect me”.

And I… I am so wound up in my need to be a “good mother” that I find myself unable to really hear my son. As he’s crying and letting it all out what he’s really saying is that there was a collection of slights and he needs an apology and he needs help cutting out the clouds. He’s overwhelmed by the physical work and he needs a teammate.

I don’t want an eight year old yelling at me. Ever. I want him to do his homework. I want him to say thank you.

It can’t happen. My needs won’t be met, and I have to adjust them.

I’m learning that my son is the kid who bottles it up and then melts down alone, at home, where it’s safe. My son still loves me and I’ll always love him. I love him with his strengths and with his weaknesses. Loving Alexander means being still and letting him fall apart a little, because he is still so little.

When he does it a little piece of me just falls apart. I’m not very good at this part of mothering, but I don’t have the luxury of time. So now, right at this very moment I’m going to have to be a better mother to my boy.

I haven’t really talked much about the kids lately, and it’s mostly good. There hasn’t been a big milestone, too often milestones are marked by trips to the Emergency Room or the school.

Jane has one soccer game left in her school season and Alexander is about to start his Little League Season. Mr. G is Alexander’s Little League coach, and like every year, he feels like he can’t possibly make the time. Like every year, the time is there and father and son have a wonderful springtime. I get to cheer, and read books, because baseball is slow. Very slow.

Valentine’s Day was nice. We hung out and swam. Yes, East Coast, its was a balmy 84 degrees all weekend so we spent it in the pool. Jane picked out lipstick for me, I got the kids a few sweet gifts, and we got Mr. G the ice cream cake he loves. It was a low maintenance Valentine’s Day and we all enjoyed it.

Alexander had some stomach pains last week, and now he has a drippy nose. As soon as I get him to the doctor for one symptom it’s gone and another one kicks in. He hasn’t actually gotten sick, but he seems to flirt with it. When he’d woken for the third day in a row with a stomachache but no fever (as the back of my hand would take his temperature). So finally I get him to the doctor, but by the time I walk through the door I’m imagining Crone’s disease and stomach cancers, I’m not thinking virus. Thank goodness the doctor is. She said he had a tiny fever (like 99.2) so it was probably the same virus the other 12 kids in her office had that morning. Just to be sure though we would need a stool sample.

Yep. Now I’m a shit collector. In order to get a stool sample you wait until your kid needs to go and you put a piece of saran wrap over the back half of the toilet. When they have a bowel movement you take your rubber gloves and use a tongue depressor to put a bit of the feces into a collection jar. Then you wrap it in aluminum foil SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO SEE IT. You take the saran wrap, the gloves and the shit covered stick and you place them in your awful neighbor‘s trash bin (because they’re out on the street anyhow). Since it is 5pm and the lab closes at 5.30 you take your son’s feces and put it in about 800 ziploc bags and store them in the refrigerator. The next morning, when you are ready to take the chilled shit to the lab, your son wakes up feeling “just great mom”. But now he has a runny nose, and I absolutely am not taking him to the doctor for a clear drippy nose. I have to save my money for a few good therapy sessions and a new refrigerator.

It’s mostly easy around here. The kids are good, they’re doing well in school, they’re playing nicely with their friends and although they’re more independent each day there’s a lot for me to do.

Last week when I went with Alexander on his field trip he was unhappy. He didn’t want me there. Then he stood with me at lunch in front of all of his friends kissing my cheek and whispering in my ear, “Mom, I’m so embarrassed that you’re here. I really wish you weren’t here. This is embarrassing.” And he kept kissing me.

That’s where we’re at.

Have you ever taken your kids out of school for a vacation?

Do you get grief when your kids take a mental health day?

I’m dying to hear about it, because I am stymied by this one. Karen, Dana and Asha don’t feel conflicted at all… ooh, I’ll just call them the next time I take the kids skiing instead of to school.