mama...is it cuz you're old?

I think I have mentioned in the past that Oliver never paid much attention that his mom was different.  He’s now 3 and is becoming rapidly aware of what other kids say and do.  On pajama day at daycare he walked in the classroom eyeballing the kids to confirm his Batman jammies were the norm or he was going to pitch a fit and demand his “real” clothes back. I could read his mind as his big blue eyes scanned the crowd.

The kids who transitioned from room-to-room at daycare with Oliver are used to me and they don’t think anything about my crutches. However, new kids and the random ones who cross my path at night on the playground  tend to greet me with a sea of questions. Oliver always listens in and likes to tell them that they are crutches and I use them to walk. However, I wonder at times what else is rolling around in that wild toddler mind.

So the other night as we were leaving Qdoba the conversation that transpired didn’t shock me.  It still makes me giggle though…

OLIVER:  Mama why do you use crutches?

ME:  I was born without strong legs, they help me walk.

OLIVER:  Do you use them cuz you’re old?

OLIVER’S DAD: Yeah, mama is really old…

*insert snickers*

ME:  Nope, I need them to help me get around, my muscles are not strong.

OLIVER:  If you eat more you’ll get strong mama

ME: I like that idea, good plan! 

*dreaming of our pile of Easter candy*

I also caught Oliver imitating my gait when I walk without my crutches.  I don’t use them around the house and can get around fine for short distances but my walk is not completely smooth.  When I’m in the privacy of our home - I don’t care, it is just nice to be able to carry plates, laundry baskets and get a vacation from having to hold onto crutches.  I know Oliver’s reenactment is crazy innocent and he just likes trying out everything he sees. 

In my gut though, I know it is just the beginning, I can only imagine what is to come…

Toddler Trials

I always felt like my son and I had an unspoken understanding.  I like to imagine that in the final seconds before he was born God sweetly whispered to Oliver, “be good for your mommy, she needs your help.”

Throughout the past three years my husband was more of the “mama bear” in the house since he had to carry him and help with the things I couldn’t do.  Oliver tends to give him a hard time on things that he easily does for me.  I’m not sure why but it gets frustrating.  

Last Friday my husband had a fairly serious ear surgery - removing a cyst/tumor-like growth and rebuilding bones, using a drill, etc.  You can imagine how his head and ear felt after all that. As we came home from the hospital and he landed on the couch, I began my brief journey with solo parenting.

Let me start by sending any single moms out there a hug..and a nap…it’s exhausting!

My husband was around but he was in pain, tired, medicated and under strict orders to rest and not lift anything.  

One night Oliver asked my husband to lift him and he said he couldn’t. Then Oliver said, “mama you can’t carry me, you’re too short.” This was the first time he verbally recognized that I don’t carry him. His reason behind it still makes me grin…I know I’m no giant but sheesh, 5’1 isn’t THAT short…

Since he turned three it seems as if he has learned a few new tricks.

He likes to negotiate.

He knows he can out run me.

He knows I can’t grab him and carry him away when he’s acting up.

Day one of getting him ready for daycare involved major drama getting him dressed.  He wanted to chill in his jammies and stay home with dad.  Once we got outside to the car, he ran to the other side of the car wanting me to chase him around the car.  Knowing it was a battle I’d never win, I just opened his door and stood there surfing Facebook on my phone until he got bored.

The next day came with an instant replay of getting dressed.  My husband was trying to help which just made it worse.  By the time it came to the final battle of getting on his jacket, I was feeling like a sweaty mess. I threw my coat on the ground while trying to put on his coat.  After getting him set, he managed to trip on my coat…fall…hit his head and major waterworks followed. 

Shoot me now.

I was insanely happy to go to work.  Almost giddy. 

That night when I picked him up I was hoping for a clean slate and some much needed mercy.  He followed me to the car like an angel. He climbed in great.  After that it all went downhill. He refused to sit in his car seat.  In the awkward cramped car I didn’t stand a chance of pulling him up into the seat and buckling him in without his cooperation.  It was dark, cold and I just wanted to go home.  So I stood there in his door while he sat in the front seat refusing to get buckled up.  I have no idea how long it took but eventually I outmatched him and he made his way back to his seat.

As time passes the challenges change.  The days of dealing with carrying a car seat are gone. No more changing diapers.  The new battles are totally easier on the pride because in the end I WILL win but are emotionally exhausting.

AMC mommies out there…what have you experienced? 

holding hands

My son is almost two.  It is starting to become hard to remember life before him even though we were married 6 years before he entered our world.

We used to come home from work, eat dinner and watch our favorite shows while multitasking on our laptops and phones. We had so much free time - we did not even know it.  Our house was clean and free of clutter. If we liked something we bought it because we had not yet experienced the pain of the weekly check to daycare. 

Oliver has added a new twist. He’s taught us things, whether we wanted to know or not. We mastered going to work on two hours of sleep.  We learned the tricks to nursing, avoiding leaky diapers, staying sane during the food throwing stage and getting him to nap.

I have found that each stage brings a different challenge. Some just were tugs on my heartstrings as mentioned in no…no…no…DADA and some are blatant reminders of the things I physically can’t do. 

One night after work this week the weather was perfect. The leaves were floating down from the trees filling our street with brilliance and the air held the crisp intoxicating taste of fall.  If that wasn’t enough, it was still warm enough to play outside and enjoy the magic.

Oliver started walking down the sidewalk and grabbed my husband’s hand to join him. He then held out his hand to me, looked at me with his big blue eyes and said momma?...he was inviting me to join the walk. 

I can’t walk, hold on to my crutch and hold his hand.  Before my husband, I was the type who would see a Sandals’ commercial and wanted to be the hot girl walking on the beach at dusk, you know holding the hand of a dreamy guy. Well, this moment blew that type of fantasy away.

I would have given anything to hold the hand of the sweetest boy on earth and walk around the block. 

I felt bad because he’s too young to understand and I would never want him to think that mommy doesn’t want to walk and hold his little hand.   I understand that it’s small potatoes in the grand scheme of life, but at that moment it made me really sad.