Monday, November 25, 2013

Stress Relief: Laughter. Who knew?

Friday afternoon, I got the phone call I've been waiting for. The results are in. I find out what they are Tuesday afternoon.

I knew with complete certainty that this is going to be a very long weekend. A weekend, not filled with anxiety over what could possibly happen, but with dread over the inevitable conclusion that my child is fine. The imagining of her sitting there across the table from me, showing me in black and white and maybe some colorful graphs the unarguable, indisputable evidence that his problems are all my fault. I worry too much. I help him too much. His delays are because of my bad parenting, his struggles are because I didn't push hard enough, I didn't expect enough. If I had only believed in him more, if only I had listened to the experts with degrees instead of thinking I knew so much... My chest still gets tight over those expectations but that's not what happened this weekend. This is...

Saturday morning, bright and early, the hellpups were ready to play. Running and jumping and shouting and waking the entire house up with their mischievous antics and excited yelps. Walter gave in and got up pretty early. The first thing he did was come running up the stairs to hit the power button on the radio and turn it all the way up. "Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock..." Walter looked at me, I looked at Walter. Walter grinned at me, I grinned at Walter... we both looked at the Goofy One... his foot kicking to the beat of the song. If there is anything the boy loves more than Halloween, it's Christmas. Walter danced with Alex and the girl danced alone :)

We cleaned the house, we laughed, we planned the holidays, we moved furniture to make room for the tree. I am enthusiastically talking to Alex about Santa, trying to get him hyped up about it, not that he really cares- which is the problem, you see, because Christmas is effing magical and he must be as excited as the rest of us- when the girl comes running up, shoving her body between my chair and Alex's. She was NOT being left out of this discussion...

I asked her, the same as I asked Alex, "Are you going to see Santa?"
Her little 2 year old body tense and clenched with excitement, she shakes her head yes.
"Are you going to sit in his lap?"
"NO!"
"You have to sit in his lap! You have to tell him you were a good girl and tell him what you want for Christmas!"
*excitement* *clenching* *enthusiastic nod*
"Are you going to sit in his lap!?"
*excitement* *clenching* *enthusiastic nod*
"Are you going to tell him what you want!?"
*excitement* *clenching* *enthusiastic nod*
"Are you going to tell him you were a good girl!?"
*excitement* *clenching* *enthusiastic nod*
"*suspicious glare* ...were you a good girl?"
*excitement* *clenching* *enthusiastic fist pump* "NO!"
I laughed so freaking hard. At least she's honest, right?


Saturday went and Sunday came... and things stayed the same. The radio on, Alex and the girl just dancing away- spinning, spinning, spinning, little bit of an awkward shimmy in the girl's spin. Alex is a great dance teacher, just sayin'. The Goofy Child continued his ridiculousness, as evidenced in this status update:

Oh, man. I love my Goofy Child.

My brother bought the girl a Barbie- the one with the nightgown- last night and bought swords with ninja turtle masks for Goofy and Little D.

My brother says the Goofy One loves his new weapon. The girl is running around with the mask and sword while Goofy has the Barbie. He's raising her skirt saying, "Ooooooo, she's going to blind you!"

Lesson Learned: I will never again tell my children that that will make you go blind.

Later, getting back into the school night routine, it's bath time... The Goofy Child plays in the bath tub until he yells at me that he's done and I go wash him. Tonight, the water is taking forever to warm up, "Did you use all of the hot water!?" "Well, I was cold." uhg. The logic. Too freakin much logic. I turned it all the way to hot to get it warm enough to wash him and did a quick job of it. Blow drying his hair, he says, "Mom, um, I think I used all of the electricity. That's cold."

Bed time comes and I'm sitting there, as usual, my music blasting in my ears, with the girl tucked up beside me, both of them screaming their freaking heads off, when the hilarity of the situation hit me. Huh, I think to myself... how can I just sit here and not listen to "my" children howl in torment, their screams of protest at this cruel, cruel world being ignored by the person who should care the most!? This is not right. This is not being a good mom or grandma. Their screams should be recognized. Their complaints should be answered... So, I did what any good mom/mawmaw would do, I got up and danced my heart out, I lullabied the hell out of them until they begged for mercy and swore to lay quietly. "...find out games you don't wanna play."  Mama wins. and, no, dear husband, I don't care if I am supposed to be the adult here.

Here it is, Monday morning, one day away from the appointment, and I'm still in a good mood. Tomorrow I'll probably cry but one way or another, the answer won't tell me anything I didn't already know. 1. I suck at parenting or 2. my boy's got issues. Either way, my kids are as they have always been and life goes on. I'm ok with that. They're pretty great.

2 comments:

  1. You're pretty great, too. Nothing like the kids to drag you out of a funk.

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  2. I'm going through this also but appointment is on Wednesday. Now looks like I'll have to cancel cause of a storm coming. I hope his results are o.k. and nothing serious is going on, but still I want answers and they don't seem to come. My mom died two weeks after he was born and I tear myself up thinking I didn't spend enough time with him bonding and that even if this is just "him" that I could have gotten him help sooner if I hadn't been so much in pain. Thanks for writing this it really helped me.

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