"Why are you trying to 'off' yourself?"

This week has been pretty interesting with Jose. Well, the last THREE weeks, Jose has been on a "suicide" mission. All of you parents know these missions well. I myself was a master at them in my day...wait-a-minute! Damn...realization...So, "suicide missions" are the ones that all little kids go on from walking to the end of adolescents. Boys apparently don't grow out of them... These are the missions that result in kids thinking they are made of teflonkevlarrubber (note to self: ask DuPont if such chemical exists and if it's safe to apply generously and often to children). The ones where you climb the highest tree in the neighborhood, lean too far out to see your house and meet the ground in a violent manner resulting in breaking your arm. OR making a slip-n-slide out of trash bags and rusty nails AND USING IT! (Yes, I do know someone who did this, I watched and waited for the impending blood) There's playing chicken with a car by running across the street right before it hits you...the whole neighborhood did this, I would like to add. Jumping off the roof of the car Super Man style (another note to self: buying Jose shirts with capes on them may be perpetuating this concept), because you think you can fly. Or jumping off of the roof of the house because....well, because. This is a small (and trust me, I do mean very small...my medical record was 3 inches thick by the time I was 13! Not exaggerating) example of "suicide missions" that I myself am acquainted with. You all have your own, and you know them well. They were awesome at the time, and you knew that after that first 30-45 seconds of pure awesomeness, there was going to be some type of consequence injury. You did it any ways, and after the tears was a hero, the neighborhood legend for the day/week (depending on how many other kids accepted missions on a regular basis). Well, as a parent these "suicide missions" are "anxietyriddenheartattack moments". (Mom, I am so sorry! You were always great fun in the emergency room though!). Jose has been determined to go on one everyday for the last three weeks! At the sitters, he's climbing to the top of EVERYTHING and trying to jump off! She has saved his small butt at least on the average of 6 times per day. I now get a count of times he's tried to "complete" his mission along with my other daily parent updates. I swear if there was a legal and safe way to keep Jose on firm soil, Malinda would do it! Well, this week was almost a success. On Tuesday I kept Jose home, trying to figure out if he was sick or had a sinus infection (and we'll take sinus infection in the state of Virginia for $1,000 Alex). We went to Home Depot to buy paint for the bathroom, and he got buckled into the race car cart. At Home Depot, the race car replaces the seat and there is a two tiered "basket" for your items. As I placed him in it, I looked at the icon that shows a kid not being buckled getting hurt. As always, I thought "that'd be Jose", and I strap him in. In we go, I'm staring at paint, he's racing a car...and then he gets quiet. Oh Crap! (Quiet was my moms indicator that she was about to make a trip with me to the emergency room.) I turned just in time to see finish slipping out of the straps (Chinese contortionist Latino boy!), and mid balance himself in the lower tiered cart. Just as I reach for him, he starts to fall, realizes he's about to crack his skull, turns to break his fall by catching himself with his arms (thank you gymnastics!!), and hits himself on the head right above his left eye. Sigh...it was one of those parenting moments where it's happening in a split second, but your parental fear has it and you going in slow motion. I scoop him off the ground, check his head (no swelling and no bruising!) and sit on the floor and rock him. He's crying and telling me he's ok (so brave), yet I'm freaked out because Home Depots floor is so damn hard! After talking to my mom and an EMT friend of mine, I schedule a visit with his pediatrician for two hours. They give me the list of what to be on the look out for until then. I wasn't going to Langley, as they're not very kid friendly, and the last time I was there, they tried to tell me Jose's simple (yet horrible) sinus infection was some crazy respiratory virus. I asked for another doctors opinion, but because of military ranking, the second doctor could not override the opinion of the first one (and I was RIGHT!) So, no Langley ER. Sentara? $200 co-pay! All of it has to go back to his pediatrician, as well as Jose himself, they know him best, off to Suffolk we go! I'm cautiously watching him play, AND HE TRIES TO CLIMB ONTO THE PLAY TABLE! Smh... We make it to the back and the doctor walks in with a big smile on her face, walks up to Jose and says "Why are you trying to off yourself?" EXACTLY!! That's my question!!!! I felt so relieved that she understood what he was doing and she was trying to calm my nerves from this scare. She checked him, he did all of his "magic tricks" and she declared him: "perfectly fine, the most adorable boy she's ever seen and highly intelligent!" (He spelled the word 'experiment' for her on his Endless ABC app). RELIEF! As she walks out of the door, she starts to chuckle, turns to me and says, "You have a textbook perfect example of a boy. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll see you in here a lot for reasons like this. It's normal and you'll get the hang of dealing with it." I just started laughing. She's right. I gave my mom HELL (3 inch medical record)! She was a pro at the ER, and learned to expect it. She's told me she was scared at first, but understood that I was adventurous, daring, bold, brave and just a bit naive enough to think it was going to work. She also said by "letting" me do those things, that I learned to go for what I want, suffer the consequences and rebuild from it all to keep going. Awesome. And I am that way, which has lead me to success. So, Jose is going to keep trying to "off himself" on "suicide missions" and I'm going to try to minimize the great risk, let him take some scrapes (but I NEVER want to do the Home Depot fiasco again!), get acquainted with all area hospital routes and let him be. Let him challenge, grow, learn, try again, try again again, fail, succeed, scrape by unscathed, get hurt, learn from consequences and mistakes, and allow him to become a wonderful, well adjusted person with great childhood stories to tell. In the meantime, does the daily regimen of Bayer aspirin really reduce the risk of heart attack? Lol!


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The Great Boobie Scare

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a HUGE supporter of breast feeding! (Have an issue? Yo I'll solve it.) Breast feeding, for me, was one of the most miraculous and rewarding experiences ever! I sustained Jose's health, gave him antibodies and created a bond with him so tight, I'm still feeling the residual effects... "Residual effects?" you may ask? Yes! About 6 weeks ago, a lump was found (I didn't find it and ill let y'all infer as to who did 😊). I froze and became petrified. It was so overwhelmingly scary that I refused to think about it for three weeks. Re-FUSED! I know you're wondering why I would do such a horrible thing when I know (by simply being a woman) how important it is to get it checked out. It's simple...my family has a HORRIBLE line of breast cancer. All lines are maternal. From what I can gather from my mother, I have a great aunt who found it at 60 (she did a radical mastectomy when it was still unheard of! Man my family can lead the way...that's another post...) my Aunt Ester died from it at 52. It wasn't a simple death, as the tumor grew so large, it ruptured. For that to happen, she had lived with it for a very long time. My Tia Maria had issues in her left, and today had to have her right biopsied. There are other types of cancer as well (both of my sisters have precancerous cells that need to be removed before they become cancerous and a cousin who has been battling brain cancer since one. That's 31 years to date). All of them are scary...breast is inherited, hereditary...a part of the family tree and therefore more likely to occur. My brain first ran into extreme scare mode: cut them off! Especially after Angelina did it. I applaud her, as her body and breasts took a backseat to being around for her children. Once again, a mommy sacrificing herself for her children. So, I told Jeff that if it's a real lump, they're coming off and he'll have to appreciate the benefits of saline. Then I went from that extreme, to the other: pretending. So for three weeks I pretended (and quite successfully) that it and my family's horrible history with bresat cancer didn't exist. Finally, Jeff asked me about it again and encouraged me to get it checked out. I looked at him, the boys being power rangers, toys everywhere, the dog laying on a pile of cars (that HAS to be uncomfortable), the cat trying to be a Russian assassin (yet another post), and said ok. I made the appointment, took the day off of work (as mid afternoon was the earliest) and showed up to my appoint 2 hours early. I was so nervous I decided to be there instead of calming my nerves at the nearest Target. I would feel better at Target, but then I would arrive at my appointment and my bank account would've taken a Target hit for nothing. Luckily, someone cancelled, they bumped me up and I got in within 10 minutes of getting there. The doctor told me that he thinks its a result of having mastitis. For those that haven't had it: women, beat one (or both) of your boobs until you want to rip it from your body with your own two hands; men, take two swift, firm kicks to the scrotum. That may touch mastitis, and then add on that the only way to fix it is to breast feed and the baby knows there's something wrong with it, so he won't. With that said, is breast feed again at the drop of a hat, because it truly is that amazing of an experience. So leftover infection (as antibiotics are a no-no when feeding) or scar tissue made sense. Jeff had that idea to begin with, but I was skeptical as he doesn't have boobs. (Note to self: Jeff is ALWAYS right.) So the doctor scheduled me for an ultrasound and mammogram. That was today. I'm OK! Apparently I have some really dense (more than normal) breast tissue in one particular spot. It tends to swell, and I have a feeling of letting down whenever I have a hormone surge. This is typical for most women (ask them how their boobs feel the week before their cycle...sore!) and I seem to be having extra hormones. It's from having to be sensitive to Jose due to his food allergies. In other words, breast feeding made a bond so special, my body is still producing those hormones so that I'm on the alert for him. Amazing huh? I think it's kind of cool that my body is reacting to his body's reaction. So it's not residual mastitis, but in a way close enough. They did find calcium deposits, but the doctor said 99.992% of women (yes, that was her number) have them. Mine are nice and round with no blurry edges. But due to my family history, she wants me to have an ultrasound/mammogram every 6 months for two years to make sure they stay just deposits. The it's a mammogram every year until I die. I'm good with that! Lessons learned: A) it's ok to be scared and to take a LITTLE bit of time to wrap your head around it before you deal with it, B) breast feedings benefits still amaze me!!!, C) knowing your body and performing self exams (or your significant other helping you out 😉) is still the biggest life saver for women.


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It's Powder Ranger time!

José has discovered "Powder" Rangers. Now his obsessions include Yo Gabba Gabba, cars, trains AND Thomas the Train, and now Power Rangers. Now I have a 33 1/2 inch "ninja" attacking me at every turn! He picked up a golf club, declared it to be Megasword, and hacked at me! If you have had any small child attack you with a stick/club/light saber/ etc., you're SCARED! Why? He's only 33 1/2 inches...of child who has no true concept of inflicting pain on others AND has no idea of power and force! As you're trying to get him to stop he's attacking you and yelling at the top of his lungs "Powder Rangers mommy! Hiiii-yaaaaa!" All you can think is, if I walk away from this with only a few bruises, no concussion and not broken objects, I'll place a check under the "win" column. He's such a BOY! Bugs, fighting, vehicles of any kind, sweaty, sticky, and sports obsessed! (He made me watch the draft! I tried to turn it but he launched into a super sonic scream O_o ) I knew he was a boy, but I had NO IDEA he was the perfect, textbook version! But under the violent attack that is reminiscent of guerrilla soldier, he's so cute imitating their moves. I have my hands full now, lord help me as he grows! :-)

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No, I don't wanna!

So this is José's favorite phrase.  I hate this phrase as much as I find it cute. That alone expresses what it's like to raise a child.  There are moments you hate, and within them you're still loving them and finding them to be the most beautiful creation ever.  I hate this phrase because it means somewhere in the next 10 seconds its going to be a battle of the wills.  Have you ever faced a stubborn two year old? Their will power is so strong, it seems like they could resist Chinese water torture...FOR YEARS!  This phrase means that I will have to tell him to do something, more than once, with each repetition getting sterner and with added consequences until he utterly breaks down, violently and spastically launches himself to the floor, centering his gravity to make him weigh 200lbs instead of 27 and screaming at full volume.  He can scream.  Need an example? He can scream so loud, the neighbor across the street from his sitter, came out of her house, ACROSS the street and asked him what the fuss was about.  His response, "I don't wanna diaper change!"  See? This is then followed by tears, more refusals, and a time out. A 2 minute time out that takes 15 minutes to complete because..."I don't wanna time out!" Sigh...  If you're at this stage now, you're presently looking at your kid hoping that this battle will only be fought 6 times today instead of 60.  If you're past this stage, you're probably cringing in phantom pain from the memory of it.  Not there yet? Oh just you wait! It's about as fun as chewing glass while being dragged over a street of nails.  Each time this happens, I think "God, please don't let him do this...again! Please make him compliant." Gods response? "No, I don't wanna!" Why? Because José, like every two/three year old is reaching his independent stage, figuring out what he can/can't do.  It's a learning process.  Sigh again...  I can honestly say that I hate this process.  I understand it, but I don't have to like it.  I just want my sweet baby all of the time.  The one who says "Yes, mommy..." or "Ok, mommy..." THAT KID! That kid makes the occasional appearance.  So until that kid shows up, I get a miniature dictator who thinks he's the ruler of all the land, when reality is he's only in charge of his toys...unless he throws them (his pitching arm is a whole other story).  But this dictator is damn cute! When he says "No, I don't wanna!" He crosses his arms tightly, drops his chin to his chest and drops his bottom lip in the cutest pout ever! When he throws himself and screams at sound breaking barriers, he's the cutest red faced looking monkey ever.  When he cries, they're the biggest tears and his eyes are so mournful you want to stop making him cry and hold him.  In that moment of parental pain and agony, he is stunningly beautiful.  I guess kids are designed that way, because otherwise they wouldn't make it far (ask my mom why I'm still alive).  So, onward we trudge with what seems like a never ending battle that is hated and cherished all at the same time.

I'm gonna do it this time!

I've tried blogging before. I failed.  Tried again. Failed again. This time I'm gonna do it! Why? Because of my mom and a friend from José's gymnastic class. Every time Jose does something, and he's ALWAYS doing something) I ask my mom, did I do that? Well, with four kids and the struggles she's been through, she doesn't really remember. She remembers things like when I cut the cats whiskers, pushed my sister off a roof, left her in a tree for 3 hours in the Oklahoma sun...THOSE things.  Well, Jenny was telling me about her blog and how it was a way for her to remember her life with all of her 6 (yes SIX) children. Each as funny and unique as the other.  So, after giving it much thought, I can do this.  As an English teacher I want to write deeply, and profoundly. As a mommy (and a "step" mommy) I only need to write the truth, because kids make life funnier and stranger than fiction.  So I can do this. I can do this for José and for my step-son Eric.