Tuesday Thoughts

22 Apr

Everyone has gone back to school, spring holidays are over, and once again I find myself alone in my house talking to my dogs.

I’ve had moments this week where thoughts pop into my head.  Things I don’t dwell on because, frankly, there is no point in dwelling on them.  But in the spirit of “I shall overshare so others don’t feel alone”, I’m going to share these thoughts…

Thoughts like…

On Saturday, I took Miriam with me to a free makeover event at Ulta.  We got our nails done and tried on colors we wouldn’t normally go for.  We had fun.  Before leaving, I was in the shower thinking about how Mim was going to enjoy this…and that in a way, Miriam is the only daughter I have that I can do such stuff with.

Not that Maura doesn’t enjoy girly things.  On the contrary.  But it isn’t the same as going out with Miriam, who has very solid opinions on make up, for both herself and for me.   With Maura, there is a level of interaction that is missing.  But instead of dwelling on what I could and couldn’t do with Maura, I decided to just be grateful I have one daughter I can share such afternoons with.

Then there was last night, as we were getting Maura ready for bed, when I realized there was blood on the side of her head.  Dried blood.  I started wiping it away, to find the source…and realize the source wasn’t on her head.  But there was blood on her hand as well, and a little under her chin.  At that point, Josh is questioning the teens, who didn’t know anything about blood (and they are pretty good when it comes to Maura and injuries), and I started checking her scalp while asking Josh to check her mouth.  Turns out she must have bumped the inside of her lip, sucked her thumb and thus blood getting here and there.

That was just one of those cases of “My child can’t tell me what’s wrong.” that we deal with more than we’d like.  Maura could understand just enough to start saying “I’m sorry” for whatever she did, poor girl.  We told her NO! Don’t be sorry!  You’re good!  We just wanted to know where the booboo was! And she relaxed.

And Monday morning, I had to shower Maura,  only for me to realize yet again that she’s getting really tall.  She’s nearly my height.  She’ll be taller than me by the time she finishes growing.  And I’m stretching as is now to wash the top of her head, thinking how we need a tub she steps down into, so she’s at a lower level than me, so I can still get the top of her head.  And that maybe we need some hand holds in the tub so she has something to hold onto when she steps in and out of the tub.  Which lead to the thoughts about having a child with only minor physical disabilities, really barely even that, just more motor planning disabilities and how there’s really nothing out there for people like Maura.  There’s no guides on having a house with just minor adjustments.  But at the same time, we’re renting, so we couldn’t do anything anyway, not permanently, so I have time to plan out things for when Maura does get taller than me.  That said, she has to sit down now if I’m doing her hair, just so I can see clearly what I’m doing.  Yes, the straight part is important to me!

But when these thoughts about what Maura can’t do invade my head, I’m also reminded at how she just keeps chugging along, trying out everything.  She’s trying to figure out how to make her own hot chocolate, which results in a big mess and a mug full of powder with a touch of milk.  She’s really into learning how to cut her own food, and is very determined to do so.  (Thank you God in Heaven for butter knives!)  She is getting quite able to dress herself these days, when she wants to.  Her independent streak is as bright and bold as ever, which delights and terrifies us at the same time.

I should probably hide the car keys now.  At some point, she might think she can drive.

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Dear Sweet Child o’ Mine

19 Apr

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I love you. I love you dearly Maura.  You know I will do anything for you.  Anything.

That stated -

Sweet Baby James you are something else this morning!  Yes, I understand, you’re having one of your “Very On” mornings, where you’re bright and perky and uber-interactive.  And that’s great, it really is.  I’m sure it’s because you got to sleep in.

But holy sheep girl, you need to pause for one moment so I can breathe and drink my coffee.

I’ve already stain treated the carpet from the lip sticky stuff I stepped on in your room after you yelled for me because you couldn’t get up while holding three penguins, a crackPad Jr., and sucking your thumb.

I also removed the big container of take-away sticky rice from the sofa before you could snack on it.

I high-fived you when you did put on your own leggings after I refused to help you because I was making my coffee and oh yeah, you can do it yourself, really! See?  You did it!  Great job there boo!

I played “Guess what I want from the pantry” with you, opened your snack bar, removed tags from the new clothes I bought you yesterday, and turned down the volume on the crackPad Jr. because you had it so loud you kept shouting at me but couldn’t hear anything I was saying, like “Maura, turn it down!” and “Eat at the table!” (latter one because of course, you were chewing loudly, and it’s that Special Time for Mommy when her tolerances run low.)

And just when I thought I had all the fires put out, volumes turned down, and a moment to drink the coffee…this happened.

Oh why have you failed me technology?

Oh why have you failed me technology?

 

Our next Life Lesson will be “How to plug everything in at night” bedtime routine.

Love,

Mom

P.S. – thank you for transitioning into playing with dolls after crackPad Jr. failed you.  Even if it means you tossing stuff around the formerly clean living room. I will always choose happiness over cleanliness.  Especially if it means I get to drink my coffee.

Ow.

17 Apr

In a moment of inspired “We Can Do It!”, two friends and I signed up for personal training at the local gym.

We_Can_Do_It!

It’s a good idea – we’re all three at similar fitness levels (aka, none, lol) and have great senses of humor so can laugh at with each other.  We have weight to lose, and goals to reach.

The problem is, after Day One, I can barely lift my coffee cup this morning.

It may actually hurt to type.

ow.

It’s all good, really.  I mean, years of doing absolutely nothing have gotten me to this point – which is a very out of shape, kinda wobbly point.  My main goals are to lose weight and become stronger, because Maura’s getting my size, and is beginning to knock me down with love.  No, really, she will launch herself at you to give you a hug, and I have started bracing myself otherwise I stumble backwards.

Also, I’m realizing that I’m not as young as I once was, and I don’t want to be one of those older women who are out of shape and waddling, huffing as they walk.  I don’t want to be that person.  I want to be dancing still when I’m 80 years old.

So I’m paying some young guy to make me lift heavy things and glare at him by the end of our session while telling him I may not like him so much.

Which is why I can’t have my husband help me work out.  While he may know all the right ways to work out, me telling him I don’t like him, and to eff off by the end of the work out won’t be good for our marriage.  Young guy I’m paying?  Can laugh it off.

I haven’t told him to eff off though.  Yet.  I might.  I make no promises.

But here we are, trying to get into shape.  And while doing so, I’m just going to remember why I’m doing this.  It’s not just about me, it’s about this girl who needs me to be healthy and around for a few more decades.  And not getting my hip broken when she knocks me over with a hug.

The things we do for our children…

 

 

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