First, my apologies to CG - in my previous post, I forgot to issue a warning that I would be departing from my normal Ick Free Factor policy. Sorry ‘bout that, CG. Hello? CG? Damn. I think he’s gone for good.
Anyway, it appears the Dragons of Dung have been slayed for the time being. I have my prune juice and thermometer armed and ready, just in case. Actually, Arun didn’t care much for the prune juice. Sadly, the cheapskate in me can’t let a whole bottle go to waste, so, um, well, you know what THAT means. Stayed tuned. Or not. Your choice.
It’s nice to have my smiling, happy boy back. He’s excited again to play with his toys and grab for any unsuspecting felines who meander too close (How desperate can a cat get for attention? Come to MY house. I'll show ya). Anyway, this has been a good exercise for me. I know logically that I have it easy. REAL easy. Like, SMEASY, easy. The hardest thing about Arun has been his incessant need to be held, which has waned a bit in the past few months. Gee, how lucky am I? My kid just wants to be snuggled all the time? POOR ME, right? So, when little things like constipation happen, it’s pretty big for me. At 4:00 am when my baby is crying in pain, my Brain says “Whoa, just a little constipation. No worries.”, but my Heart tells me ”Holy fucking CRAP. Is he dying? Should I go to the ER? Maybe it’s NOT constipation! Why is he seizing his legs up like that? Maybe it’s COLON CANCER. Holy fucking CRAP. He's in PAIN. What do I DO? What sort of mother doesn’t take her baby to ER when he might have COLON CANCER?”. Fortunately, my Brain prevailed and there were no visits to the ER. But it is a good reminder that I have it SO GOOD. Except for jaundice and a slight complication when he was born, we have a pretty healthy kid who has even managed to avoid getting any colds so far (I have pulled out one of our many snot suckers a few times in anticipation, but had to put it back. I finally delegated one of them for a bath toy.)
I think the hardest part about yesterday’s twilight hours scare was the stark reminder of how irreversible this connection is to my son. I have only felt this frightened twice before. When he was born, we had that slight complication (he had swallowed meconium in utero) and they whisked him away right after he was born. I didn’t get even get to SEE see him for nearly 2 hours but I was so dazed from the birth and drugs that I didn’t really FEEL it. However, 5 days later when I saw his little noggin totally hunched over in his carseat, I bawled like there was no tomorrow. I was positive his neck was BROKEN and that my crazy driving had done it. I sobbed on X's shoulder and he was just baffled. Of course, a quick phone call to my sister confirmed that all newborns hunch over and henceforth, I christened Arun the little Noodle Neck. But that was the first poignant moment in his teeny life that struck me hard. The 2nd Frightening Moment happened in San Francisco when I was convinced Arun had a life-threatening fever and was going to die while I was stuck in a strange city. A quick purchase of an expensive Who-the-Hell-Comparison-Shops-When-Their-Kid-Is-Dying thermometor proved that yes, I was just a freak with a healthy kid who needed to get a fucking grip on herself already. So, I do try to fight what I call the "rising paranoia in the back of my throat". However, I suspect that to be a mother means that there will always be a little bit of that paranoia in the back of your throat and that there is NOTHING that can ever make it go away. And I suppose that maybe, just maybe, it SHOULDN'T go away and that perhaps, that's what this whole Motherhood gig is all about. Perhaps.
On that note, I need to sign off so I can take my sweet boy outside to play with scissors and marbles in the middle of the street. In the sun.
With no sunscreen, of course.
Poop on you, Constipation!
Who says Helmet Head ain’t sexy?