Drops of Awesome

Personal Blog of Author Kathryn Thompson

Family Time

Humility, Thy Name is Mother

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Whatever pride or dignity I thought I possessed as a young whipper-snapper came spilling out of my body along with the child when I lay helpless in the hospital answering to the name of Mother for the first time, midwifes and nurses, grabbing, pulling and touching me in ways that I would have previously found appalling.

Over the past 6 years I’ve periodically made attempts to regain some of my lost pride but it’s hard when you live with people who can’t BELIEVE there’s not a baby in your tummy because it’s SO big, who use you as a human tissue, and who pray to Heavenly Father that he will help them please be on time for school tomorrow. Laylee knows I’ve shown myself incapable of regular punctuality so she likes to call for backup.

This morning on the way to school, I noticed I hadn’t even run a comb through her hair. This is absolutely unacceptable in my opinion, especially since she gets to pick her own clothes. I need the teacher to see one sign that she is not being physically neglected at home. So I pulled over to the side of the road and tried to do a quick fix with the only tools I had, a comb and a bobby pin. Without tangle spray or local anesthetic it’s nearly impossible to straighten Laylee’s bird’s nest without shrieks of agony so I “smoothed it over,” told her I’d done the best I could but it wasn’t great and got back into the drivers’ seat of the car.

“It’s okay,” Laylee replied. “Being on time is way more important than just looking nice anyway.” As she said this, I wondered if she was as aware as I was of my unshowered, unbrushed hair or the near-pajamas I was wearing. I could have been the poster child for “Looking Nice Isn’t That Important Anyway.” Then there was the reminder that being on time was more crucial than looks and that I’d let her down so many times in the past.

Kids will let you know what they think of you. Frequently their words are filled with love and often with that love comes brutally honest assessments of your worst traits, your biggest insecurities. Even their criticisms usually aren’t malicious at this age. They just stem from curiosity, fascination or just plain lack of social skills but they can still hurt or at least bump your pride down a notch.

Lately the kids have been using “humor” to share how they see the world, their favorite being the knock-knock joke that’s really a why-did-the-chicken-cross-the-road joke in disguise.

Both of these gems came up at dinner last night to much raucous laughter.

Knock knock
Who’s there?
Why did the mommy cross the road?
I don’t know. Why?
To go shopping.

Knock knock
Who’s there?
Why did the mommy cross the road?
I don’t know. Why?
To pick up her prescription

Nice. So this “mom” person is a materialistic shopaholic who NEEDS HER MEDS? I see why that’s funny. Almost.

Then driving to school yesterday, Magoo pointed out the window at a woman walking along the sidewalk and asked, “Mom? What name is that lady?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied.

“Oh. Oops,” he said. “That’s no lady. She’s just a MOM!”

AAAHHHHH! And yet. I love this job so much it hurts sometimes. What would I do without these kids? Besides be more of a “lady,” that is?

Five Years Old and Headed for Lock Down

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After our New Years’ Eve play date, Laylee came up and showed me the beautiful heart our friends’ young son, her kindergarten classmate, had drawn for her. Then she started rehearsing lines from I know not what.

Laylee: Mom. Look what Joseph made me.
Me: Wow. That’s really friendly.
Laylee (dreamily): I’ve been thinking about it all night and I think I’m in love with him.
Me: Hmmm. That’s nice.
Laylee: I’m pretty sure he’s the man I’m going to marry.
Me: Well, you’ve got a long time before you have to decide that.
Laylee: I’m pretty sure.

So I think the conversation is over but after we get home, she approaches me with that same dreamy spaced-out look and says, “Mom, I’ve decided. The next time I see Joseph, I’m going to kiss him on the lips.”

So here I start fumbling, picturing the fiasco if she really does attempt a predatory make-out session during recess or at church, “You know, kissing on the lips is kind of a thing for big people to do.”

Upon hearing this, Magoo piped up, “I will kiss you.” And walked over and gave me a big kiss on the lips. Great timing Bud. Way to help me prove my point.

So again we hear from Laylee, “I just can’t imagine falling in love with anyone else.”

Ah me. Young love. I have several journals filled with such nonsense so it shouldn’t freak me out too badly. However I’m pretty sure I didn’t start that young. I know I was at least old enough to write by myself before I considered stealing the lip virtue of any young gentleman friend.

Later that night when I was standing in the glare of a squad car spotlight trying to explain that I didn’t know fireworks were illegal in our town on New Year’s Eve, my head was filled with visions of a special lock-down for romantically-advanced little girls. It looked something like a super-sized life pod, with a lock on the outside and plenty of face time with mama. It looked something like our house, actually.

Perhaps We’ve Been Over-thinking Things

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How many children should we have?
Is the time right?
Am I healthy enough?
Was that a miscarriage?
Do I want to go through all that again?

I was recently talking with Eve’s kids when the 3-year-old asked me why I didn’t have a baby at my house. “We have a baby. Where’s your baby? Why don’t you have a baby?”

“Well,” patting my mid-section, “I’m just saving space here in case Heavenly Father wants to put one in there.”

Then the second grade son chimed in with a look on his face that seemed to say, “I really like you so Iiiii’m gonna help you get on the clue bus.”

“All you need to do is get some SPERM.”

“Thanks. I’ll look into that.”

Doh! The SPERM! The missing link. So next time I’m in Rite Aid, I’ll see what they have in stock.

Regarding Magoo

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Do you remember the movie Regarding Henry with Harrison Ford, where he gets shot and turns into a vegetable and then has to do all kinds of rehab just to be able to speak and move his limbs and he has a huge transformation and it’s all kinds of inspiring?

Well we had a similar experience this morning only without Annette Benning, head wounds or physical therapy equipment.

You see Magoo is 3 and a half and absolutely refuses to put on his own socks. I’ll put them on his lap and he just lets them lay there all limp and sad and looks up at me with dog eyes and cries, “CAN YOU PLEASE HELP ME! I CAN’T DO IT! IT’S TOO HARD!!”

I usually cave after a couple of minutes in interests of time if not of mercy. I know he’s old enough to do this but he’s used to be being the baby boy and frankly he’s too lazy to rehabilitate himself to the point where he can put on his own socks, or should I say “habilitate” since he’s never known how.

So this morning I had about an hour to spare before yoga class and a good incentive, a trip to his best friend’s house while I worked out, and I sat him down for an intense sock therapy session.

“I can’t do it!”

“I know you can. You’re such a big boy and you’re so good at trying and learning new things.”

“But I CA-A-A-AN’T! Please help me!”

“I’ll sit right here with you the whole time and you just try. Just pull the sock onto your toes to start.”

He pulled the sock barely over his little toesies and then threw his hands down to the sides.

“I can’t do it anymore. It’s too hard!”

“Oh but you’re doing so great already. You’ve got to keep trying.”

“I just can’t”

This went on for about 10 minutes, the coaxing, the cajoling, the whining and the cheer-leading. The first sock inched it’s way on slower than a slug on a tomato plant. Then he absolutely refused to do the second sock. Waterworks filled our family room. His struggles were too great to bear.

“If you don’t have socks on, you can’t go to River’s house.”

TA-DA. The second sock was on in less than 30 seconds.

And then it hit me. Somebody should have told Henry he couldn’t have a play date until he started walking and talking like a normal person and he’d have been painting Ritz crackers and fighting corporate corruption tons sooner. It would have been like a 10 minute movie. Oh. Maybe that’s why they dragged it out.

Either way. Guess whether or not I’m gonna be putting Magoo’s socks on for him tomorrow.

Nearly Six

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Each night in your prayers, you thank God for yourself and you mean it. You are absolutely tickled with who you are.

You see yourself as a fashionista. To school yesterday you wore a brown, teal and cream plaid dress with a white and red patterned t-shirt overtop, hot pink flowered tights and white tennis shoes. You found yourself unable to walk for the prancing.

I fixed your hair extra special that day to offset your extra special outfit and so your teacher would know you were not being neglected at home.

At dinner tonight you balked at the pizza I’d ordered and asked me to not make you finish your slice of pizza if you ate your entire huge portion of broccoli. You said you’d really rather eat my lentil soup.

Ever since I told you that getting down from the table during dinner meant that you would fall in hot lava, you always ask politely for a lava pass before getting up for extra napkins, forks or condiments.

Your favorite things to draw are robots. They are all nearly identical. They are happy and seem like nice robots, not the kind to develop artificial intelligence, turn on their human masters and lay waste to our planet. I like that.
robotbaby-girl
Tonight at dinner I tried to pray in a more casual way like I was talking to Heavenly Father right there in the room. I rambled on about our day the way I would talk to any friend. I told him that we missed him and wished we could see him for dinner tonight. I wanted you to get a sense that he was really listening, that he was real. When I said amen, you wiped away a tear and said, “I think I’m just crying from happiness. That was a really good prayer!”

Yesterday you told me that you’d rather receive gifts from Santa than from regular people because they’re fresher. While a gift from your mom has probably been sitting around the store for who knows how long, a gift from Santa is just freshly made by the elves. You said, “You can just tell the difference in the freshness, you know?”

When I got home from my PTA meeting tonight, I came upstairs to turn off your reading light. I thought you were asleep so I leaned in and kissed you softly on your forehead. You smelled like baby shampoo. As I turned to walk away you whispered, “Sleep with me a minute please.”

I did. I ran my fingers through your damp hair until you drifted to sleep, the cadence of your breath resetting the rhythm of my body to a place of perfect contentment. Oh baby girl. You can’t possibly love yourself as much as I love you.

Late For School

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Thank you so much for all of your kindness as I’ve been going through this rough time. It’s not hard to be open about my struggles when I get such a gracious and loving response.

It’s amazing how fast the hard times come and how quickly they begin to recede with faith, prayers, friends, good medical care and prescriptions, and a weekend spent sitting on an island watching the sunset with your main schmoop and zero small people.

Dan and I had planned a getaway for this past weekend months before my brain glitch last month happened. It’s the first time we’ve gone away for a weekend without the kids in the nearly six years since Laylee was born and I feel sure that all the planning and timing were no accident. Someone knew I’d need some extra relaxation to help get over the worst of my panic and anxiety.

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Now we’re getting back into our routine and it seems strange that just days ago I was swallowed up in so much fear and panic. I’ve been sleeping in, grateful to be sleeping well again and we were a bit tardy getting Laylee to kindergarten this morning. I apologized and she sensed the stress in my voice.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m late for school Mom. It just matters that I’m alive. Come on, man!”

Yeah, yeah. Peace, love and all that jazz. I’d still like to avoid excessive and habitual late slips. But I enjoyed the sentiment. There is wisdom in our young ones. Upon arriving back home, Laylee’s favorite song “I Know Karate” (see embed below) was playing on the cd player and Magoo begged me not to go inside until it had finished.

So we stayed in the car as I unleashed the artistic fury of my funky greatness. Rolling fists, flashing jazz hands and bobbing my head like a skanking Rastafarian. Hey. My car dancing moves are limited because my mobility is restricted but I can still bust a move in a manner pleasing to children under the age of six. Magoo parroted my every motion and when the song finished he exclaimed, “I did it. I could do all of it!”

And his moves were passable. I hope they serve him well in his life. Maybe he’ll report back to me about how they’re working for him. Perhaps in junior high sometime. Maybe his peers will report back even more emphatically.

Over This Bump

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Laylee got her hearing aids last week, launching us into a whole new world of joy and wellness and a place where Dan and I can no longer whisper things above her head without the risk of her overhearing.

hearing4We spent 2 hours with a very kind and thorough audiologist who covered everything from how to clean “ear whacks” out of the rubber molds to how to purchase new batteries. We left with piles of hearing aid-related paraphernalia, including a small stuffed gopher with his own replica hearing devices velcroed to his ears.

I was amazed at how precise the process was for fitting and making sure that they boost the exact frequencies she lacks without overloading her on sounds she already hears just fine and I was relieved that they were able to shut off the volume controls so she doesn’t accidentally turn them way up or way down.

hearing3I’m sort of fascinated with these new removable body parts and find it strange and exciting to listen through them with my tiny hearing aid stethoscope. They sound tinny and electronic to me but supposedly that’s because they’re boosting frequencies that I already hear just fine.

Once we got home I had a really hard time not turning into the Verizon guy coming up behind her and whispering, “Can you hear me now?” every thirty seconds.

At one point on the second day she came up with a little experiment. She went to the bottom of the stairs and had me whisper something to her from the top of the stairs. Grinningly she repeated back what I had said, “Ah-HA! Now you can have no more secrets from me unless I’m asleep.” Then she turned off the hearing aids and had me whisper something else.

Me [whispering at the same volume as before]: I’m so glad you love your ballet class so much.
Laylee: Hm. I could still hear that too, even without my hearing aids. I guess my ears are okay.
Me: Really? What did I say?
Laylee: You just said, “SHWSHWSHWSHWSHWSH.”
Me: Um. Nope.
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Sitting on my bed that morning, I was talking to Laylee when she suddenly asked me to be quiet. So I stopped talking and a huge grin filled her face. She said she could hear her dad’s shower ALL THE WAY IN THE NEXT ROOM! She was totally amazed by something I hear every day.

Now it’s not all peach-flavored Twizzlers and roses around here in the land of super hearing. Within minutes of getting them turned on for the first time, Magoo came up to her and started mouthing words with no sound coming out, causing her to strain to hear and become very concerned. He thought it was hilarious.

Also, as the audiologist predicted, she’s had a little trouble with distraction and confusion with all the new sounds coming at her. Where once she could carry on a discussion while Magoo lost his mind loudly in the next room, she now can’t hold a train of thought if he’s mumbling by her side. She’s seemed a little overwhelmed at times and over-stimulated. For this reason, the doctor suggested we wait a few days before letting her wear them to school. She begged us to cave and let her wear them all the time but we remained firm through the weekend and I’m glad we did.

Today I went with her to her kindergarten class and read all the kids a story about a little elephant with hearing loss who goes through the process of getting hearing aids. When I’d finished I told them about hers while she modeled like Vanna White and explained that they were just like glasses for her ears to help her have super hearing. Then I asked if they had any questions. Several hands shot up and the question period went something like this:

“I have a brother with glasses and he wears them.”

“Oh wow.”

“My dad wears glasses AND my uncle Steve.”

“That’s so great. Any more questions?”

“My mom has WHITE glasses.”

Repeat and fade…

Everyone seemed to like the pink color and the sparkles but most of all they just didn’t care that much. And now we move on to whatever’s next.
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