Wordless Wednesday

We Got Heart

It might have been a hundred degrees out there. The team may have gotten slaughtered EVERY game. You should have reached your limit by mid-afternoon.

But you didn't. You played hard, rose to the challenge, bonded with the team and made me proud. We may not have a trophy - but we got heart. Good game kiddo.

Winter

Winter!

Quiet, snowy evenings - perfect for a peaceful walk.
Except when it includes smashing windows and screaming children.

Last night, Thing One tripped and fell - going right through a double paned window in the living room. Luckily - he doesn't have a SCRATCH on him, but WOW! It was cold in here last night.

One piece of cardboard does not a window make.

Well, the window has been replaced - and no one is hurt so I scratch it up to life. OY VEY!

Just for the record, I? Am very very happy. You know who you are - and I have never felt so loved. Thank you for reminding me of what love can really conquer.

Christmas is just around the corner...

Home

It seems to me that every time I pick up and start over, there is a period of time where I am drifting. It's coming upon two weeks since we moved back to our old stomping grounds and I think I'm starting to adjust.

For the first week, I had this feeling like I was an alien, dropped off in this quiet corner of grass and sunshine and was totally disconnected from all that was yesterday, and all that will be tomorrow. I tried to make this house look like home, to reconnect with who I am and where I am going. At first the pieces just didn't seem to fit together, off by just a hair no matter how hard I pushed on their edges.

But finally I am feeling a settling around me. As I sit here writing this, I hear the summer sound of a neighbour's lawn mower, followed by the scent of fresh cut grass- and I wonder. When was the last time I heard this? Life in a small apartment box has robbed us of those wondrous moments - the smell of the rain on the grass, the cool feel of the lawn between our toes on a hot day, the stars that rivet the night sky. I missed this. I hear the kiddos playing an intense game of hide and seek with other neighbourhood kids, see the abandoned soccer balls and sidewalk chalk in the yard and feel contentment.

I've reconnected with old friends and made new ones, spent lazy afternoons in the park sun watching all of our children splashing in the water. We've laughed and eaten and shared our yesterdays. We've gone home with the smell of summer sun in our hair and fading sunscreen between our fingers - happy. We've chased white bottomed rabbits through the grasses in the park and stood silent sentries as they moved in front of us.
The kids sleep the deep sleep of spent energy, reeking of the outdoors in the damp hair around their temples.

I may not be who I was yesterday, but as we continue to set roots in this quiet corner, I certainly look forward to who I will be tomorrow.

Here We Go 'Round the Mulberry Bush! OR Who do I punch first? The monkey or the weasel??

Thankyou to all of you that commented on my last post about Thing One's return to the nest. I was, and AM, very happy to have him home again and feeling better.

This week we attended a follow-up appointment with Dr. Brain. Which? Left me nothing but frustrated. I canNOT keep pulling out my hair, there will truly be nothing left.

While Thing One was in paeds psych, he was under the care of a different child psychologist. We'll call him "The Monkey". On the weekends, we were cared for by the original Dr. Brain (The Weasel). I do not have a great history of confidence with The Weasel. She has a very poor bedside manner to say the least (which is NOT good when you're dealing with sensitive mental health issues and their impacts on families). In my first appointment she actually commented "OH, I see..." and nodded emphatically when she discovered that I was a single mother. As if that answered everything, as if attending "positive parenting" classes would be enough to cure my son from his issues.

(Which I did attend, to appease her, but I'm still unsure why I felt the need to prove my parenting prowess....)

Over the last year we've changed meds, diagnosis and opinions. I've been questioned, turned inside out, disbelieved and dismissed. During Thing One's observation period in hospital, Dr. Monkey was quite distressed about the Prozac factor and quickly took him off the drug. He maintained the Seroquel (and still does), and after two weeks of leeching this from his system, the symptoms of psychosis abated.

It is my understanding from Dr. Monkey, that Prozac was the culprit, and that it can happen in children, and has. I did some layman research myself and found the same results. Yesterday, after a week has gone by since Thing One was released, we visited Dr. Weasel, who began the appointment by asking me what the result was from the hospital. Apparently SHE hasn't recieved the report from Dr. Weasel just yet.

Then, she looked at me like I had four heads and calmly told me there are NO case studies showing Prozac to cause symptoms of psychosis and she has no idea what Dr. Monkey is talking about. She was so adamant she insisted that if we were to accept that reasoning, then we should be WRITING A CASE STUDY on my son's experiences since its NEVER happened before.

Colour me confused.

We discussed the recurrence of Thing One's mood swings, temper and aggression (something that abated during his Prozac course and has now reappeared since we've removed the drug). Despite that being true, she now thinks that it's not anxiety that's causing the behaviour changes but the need for limits in the family. (HOLY FREAKIN CRAP BATMAN. I've been down this road...) So now, we are back to serving up the latest token economy to cease Thing One from hitting his sister when he's mad 83 times a day. Which? Doesn't work.

Know why?

I set limits. Have ALWAYS set limits. Have tried the token economy, it fails in the face of a child who cannot control wild emotional response. In fact, in some cases it actually exacerbated his issues, as he began worrying about his performance and chance for rewards. Which makes him anxious. Which makes him volatile. Which leads to explosive behaviour... it's round and round we go.

So, like I said before, WTF? Who do we believe, and WHAT do we do now? Thing One is WAY unregulated and both Doctors can't see eye to eye on anything.

Who do I punch first?

Prozac: The Good, The Bad and the UTTERLY RIDICULOUS

Update time!

Thing One has finally come home (WOOT WOOT)!!

After a very LONG two weeks, and very expensive parking - I have my boy back where he belongs. The first week was SOOO difficult, with the continuing hallucinations and depersonalization - but we've conquered it.

The consensus is - the psychosis was induced by the anti-depressant Prozac. Let this be a warning to all other parents out there... avoid AVOID AVOID this drug. Thing One started taking it after Zoloft failed to help with his anxiety disorder, back in late December or early January. It wasn't until late March that he began presenting with the psychotic symptoms, and they got progressively worse. He lost his personality, his feelings (complete apathy), became very aggressive and harbored suicidal and homicidal ideation. When he was initially hospitalized, they weaned him from this drug while continuing the Seroquel (because it has anti-anxiety properties). The first week didn't produce much change (as you've read earlier), but once it began to exit his system we experienced a GREAT improvement.

Prozac builds in the body and takes time to exit the system. It can take a few weeks before it finally leaves the body, and once it began happening, Thing One's psychotic symptoms disappeared one by one. He did (and still does) have wicked mood swings since coming off the Prozac. I'm not sure what we will need to do for that, but I'll take mood swings over hearing voices ANY DAY. He continues on the Seroquel, and Dr. Brain advised me that his anxiety levels are really much higher than we initially anticipated. According to them, there is actually very LITTLE time during the day that he isn't at an extreme level of anxiety. Which sucks, because he has Generalized Anxiety Disorder, so there is no way to remove him for a break from whatever makes him anxious. It is everything and nothing, all the time.

DO NOT give this drug to your children! When I consented to this medication, I WAS NOT informed of this side effect! I asked very specifically what we could expect or should watch for and I was told that these types of side effects are so negligible that it didn't even need to be discussed!

Not.
True.

Prozac made my son into a different person. Instead of controlling his anxiety and making his life easier to live it turned him into a possible schizophrenic. Be AWARE of these things, lend credit to what you read when you google it and remember to insist on ALL the information. There are many other options (SSRI's), but a lot of them are going to carry the same types of side effects. Try to opt for one that doesn't accumulate in the system, if you have to use them at all.

Thing One is still not better as a whole. His anxiety and ODD are still rampant however I can be sure that he will not harm himself or the rest of the family in the dead of the night. I'm sure, when he's old enough to understand what happened to him, he'd choose the anxiety any day.

Now - to just get the meds tweaked just right....


Breathing a HUGE sigh of relief, and again thanking all those who cared for us during this horrible TERRIBLE ordeal... I'm off to cuddle with my boy.


DAG

The Mental Health System is designed to make me crazy.

Dr. Brain continued to say that she wasn't sure if this was obsessive compulsive (so the hallucinations are actually obsessive intrusive thoughts and images he cannot stop) or bipolar or schizophrenia. She says his issues are complex. I broke down (FINALLY) in that meeting. She passed me a kleenex box and said "I've been waiting for you to fall apart".

*Blink* *Blink*
I hope I met your expectations. Did you have money riding on it?!?

I shared with her my GREAT concern that the staff isn't observing Thing One. They said Sunday morning (when my Mom and brother and I arrived) that he had a great morning.
Yet, he came out of the lounge looking like his best friend had just died. I seriously appeared like he was going to burst into tears at any moment. But when we asked, he said "I'm fine". Clearly NOT fine. Clearly NOT "great". He sat across the room doodling on a magnet board in the window sill and did not interact with us for some time.

I told Dr. Brain that I was worried that he was going to come home at square one and I'd be sleeping across his doorway again because he thought he'd harm himself or others. She said she was committed to finding out how to help him, that his issues were "complex" and that we couldn't live like we were before he went in. Obviously.

The afternoon only got worse. I took him to a movie on a day pass. Half way through (everything had been fine and he'd been laughing just a moment ago) he suddenly sat up in his seat and looked at me like I was an alien. He said "Mommy?" like he was surprised to see me there. I said yes? Then he said something mumbly and quick, which I thought I heard "we need to go back". I said, go where? He stared at me and slowly said, Nevermind. I said, "what's wrong?". He looked around and said slowly, "nothing". I said "are you confused"? He clearly seemed disoriented and unsure. He said, "yeah, I didn't really know where I was for a few minutes". He then asked to leave although we were only an hour into the movie. On the way out he said he needed to go to the bathroom, and asked me to hold Jack the dog.

He was in there for 20 minutes. Aftermath showed up and I sent him in to check on Thing One. Apparently, Thing One hasn't pooped the whole time he was at the hospital (almost a week now), so he was clearly clearing the decks. We waited outside. When he came out finally he told Aftermath about that moment in the theatre and how he had no idea where he was for a few moments. Then we decided to go to the park so he could ride his scooter. In the car he burst into tears again and I asked what was wrong. He told me he was just "so proud". I said proud of what? He said proud of Jack. I said why? He said "because when I was in the bathroom trying to poop I could hear Jack saying "you can do it!", I've never had a stuffed animal that encouraged me and talked to me and I'm so proud that he helped me through it". He sobbed away in my backseat.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH HIM.

When we got there, he rode around for a few minutes and then went across the parking lot from us, sat down on the concrete with his back to us and sat for a good 5 or 10 minutes. Then he wanted to go to the playground part, so we did. He slid down the slide once and then laid down on the rocks and just stayed there. I finally took him back to the hospital. I talked to the nurse, who mused perhaps I am a trigger for his anxiety and so is the dark. I looked at her sideways because she's clearly out of her god-damn mind.

He had a good day today, I spent a good chunk of the day with him. Except he really has no interest in me. I get there and he goes off to play in the lounge or the gaming room and wants me to wait in his room till he gets back. I don't understand why my son doesn't want to be around me.

I met with the other doctor (Dr. K) who runs the unit and he's telling me that Thing One's continuing on the Seroquel but he doesn't think this is bipolar or schizophrenia and that Noah's hallucinations are a product of severe anxiety. I don't understand that either, its not like these things happen when he's uber-anxious. They just do randomly. So from the sounds of it, I'm going to have a little boy coming home on an anti psychotic and a new SSRI (he's talking about starting Luvox now), which in my opinion leaves us in the EXACT SAME POSITION WE ENTERED UNDER. I'm so frustrated Ive been crying my eyes out because I feel like I did this to him for nothing. I justified the trauma of staying in the hospital by thinking that they'd get to the bottom of what was happening with him. It clearly is not the case. Also - I don't think the left hand knows what the right is doing, especially because both Dr.s are talking about totally different disorders and totally different symptoms. I'm going OUT OF MY MIND.

I really feel like no one is in our corner or committed to helping my son alleviate what is clearly TORMENTING him.

And it's tormenting me.

Clearly.

Gratitude

Hello to all of you who have commented to me, de-lurked and made your presence known, or have just began reading Between the Crosshairs.

This is just a small note to thank you all for sharing your best wishes, your generous offers and your positive energy. You do NOT know how much that means, to know that somewhere, you are not alone.

Mental illness lives under stereotype and stigma. It is not treated like a terminal illness, yet in some ways it really is. Often you do not have a diagnosis, and most often, no cure. I am fighting for my son because he cannot fight for himself. It's a long hard road, and sometimes - when the day has kicked me right in the heart - when I am paralyzed and feeling UTTERLY on my own - coming home to read that someone else, somewhere else in the world - is rooting for us: it helps.

It's like a hug you can't feel, a casserole on your doorstep when you get home - sometimes - it's the one thing that allows you to set aside your stone face and courage for a moment and just cry.

Thankyou. It is everything.

New post coming tonight.


Much Love

DAG

Groping through the fog

Dealing with child mental illness isn't easy. You cannot see it, measure its advances or prepare for attack. It's insidious, growing like cancer in the recesses of the mind and I hate it.

I keep hearing that the three most important things a mother does is keep their children happy, healthy and safe. I can do NONE of these things. Superficially I can alter their environment to promote these ideals, but when the "badness" is in his brain my hands are tied. More than that, Thing Two suffers as she continues to be his punching bag, his victim, his enemy. He is the problem AND the victim and I don't know how to make her world safe again either.

The Seroquel had been working to at least sedate him. He had been sleeping through the night without incident the first week and most of last. But its effects are slowly wearing off. Last night I found him asleep in the living room once again, awoken and frightened by "the man". I worry that he doesn't get enough rest from the torment of his demons. I worry more that he wanders while we sleep.

This weekend, Thing One threatened to kill myself and my daughter. He was raging, out of control and screamed "I'LL KILL YOU ALL!! I PROMISE YOU!!". After he calmed down, I spoke to him about that comment. He admitted that he considers killing myself and Thing Two "sometimes, but not everyday". He says the voices tell him to do it while I'm sleeping, but he's afraid I might wake up. It's chilling. Then, he burst into tears and ran from me. I grabbed him, gathered him in my arms while he sobbed that he didn't want to think those bad thoughts and he just wanted to be normal. He worries that his sick brain will never get better.

I can offer nothing to assuage him.

Last night, after one of the biggest meltdowns I've seen with him to date, he went for a walk with my dad and Thing Two. They came across some dandelion puffs and made wishes on the wind. Thing Two wishes fervently that Thing One's brain would not be sick anymore. They cried for each other. I died a little inside.

I feel like I'm sailing on the seeds of those wishes, bending to the wind and the whims of an unkind fate.


DAG

Genesis

As some of you already know, my parenting journey with Thing One has been a rocky one. He was diagnosed last September with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Oppositional Defiant Disorder. We tried and rejected Zoloft and settled with Prozac.

Despite those efforts, Thing One didn't change very much. We had some reduction in anxiety but all the anger, aggression, defiance and depression lingered and lingered...

Over the last month, there has been a dramatic increase in aggressive behaviour, both at home and on the school yard. He had many verbal arguments and physical altercations with his peers and became even more unfocused in the classroom. There was less eye contact, no interactions. Thing One retreated into his angry self and pushed us all away with his words and his curses. His grades continued to suffer, despite an acommodated, and then modified Individual Education Plan.

And then the thing happened. The giant red flag, the MOTHER of all red flags that sent me reeling and then rushing to the phone to schedule an appointment with our child psychiatrist (Dr. Brain). It isn't easy to talk about this, to tell others the horrors of my child's first slip from reality. In in interest of helping other parents, helping ourselves and refusing to hide from the stigma of mental illness I have chosen to tell it here.

I discovered that Thing One had been smearing feces on the walls and furniture in his room. He didn't have an answer why he did it, said he didn't know, couldn't tell me, didn't understand. He had NO emotion during this discussion, in fact - behaved as though this was a perfectly normal Saturday morning. That afternoon he began shrinking - anxiety building as he complained about the closeness and crowding of the local market, the issues surrounding any simple daily activity.

And then - the hallucinations. The came from nowhere - a man who wakes him in the night at tells him to sneak out of the house and runaway while we sleep, to jump off the balcony - to do it, do it, DO IT, you won't get in trouble!" The whispery things that make it hard for him to concentrate on what we are saying to him. The bugs in the corner that "the man" makes come. The paranoia that "the man" takes his toys, moves them around or makes them disappear for awhile. When they return, they are broken. The disrupted sleep, waking night after night and wandering about the house. Falling back asleep under the coffee table in the living room.

The Seroquel is helping. He's been sleeping right through the night (sedation is the main side effect). I've seen glimpses of the little boy I used to know (more than 2 years ago). But "the man", the whispers, the voices are still here. We are beginning a journey to eradicate those things that torment him.

He is broken.

The worst of it is that I cannot see where the sickness lives, how it grows, what he sees. I can't fix it or put my hands on it or even evaluate it. I have to rely on the reports of a 9 year old boy who barely understands what's happening to him.

What's happening to all of us...

A Dark Day

Hello all (yes, all three of you that read me...)

I've not been around lately. Been extremely busy dealing with a crap bag that hit the fan and drowned us all. The details are to come.. but for now I'll say this:

Our struggles with Thing One (9yrs) have exploded. After many different (and frightening behaviours) in the last month or so, Thing One has recieved a new diagnosis.

He has been diagnosed (as of this morning) - with psychosis. Tonight he had cookies and milk, 20 mgs of Prozac and his first dose of the anti-psychotic Seroquel. What I thought was my child is clearly changing.

On the way home from school this afternoon he burst into tears, crying that he felt so stressed out. He cried and said that his thoughts tell him he's a bad kid and that he so badly wants to be a regular kid like everyone else - a good kid.

I've not yet scraped up the pieces of my heart.

I am frightened.

Tough Breaks

I've been trying to get across the horrific nature of Thing Two's accident, however I continue to get incredulity and misunderstanding from my fellow folks.

SO-

I decided to post these x-rays. The surgeon in Niagara Falls gave us her information on CD, and Aftermath played around with it until he was able to extract these images. These are the ACTUAL X-RAYS of my daughter's left arm, taken before surgery on Sat., June 6th 2009.


**** WARNING - Not really for the squeamish ****

Just in case you didn't notice the warning above, I'll start off with manageable images.

Touche Pussycat

Kid with Broken Arm: Mom, can I play on the computer?

Overworked Mom: Yes KWBA, here you go.

KWBA: Thanks. Can I have that game?

OWM: Coming up.. hang on.

KWBA: Can I have a drink too?

OWM: Yes, lemme just ...

KWBA: Can you help me move this over here? And pass me that? Oh, and ...

OWM: Just a sec Tay! I only have two hands!!

... Complete silence while KWBA contemplates ...

KWBA: Well ... I only have one.


Touche pussycat. Touche.

The Little Things ...

Yesterday was the first day that Thing Two was able to spend "outside". Of course, that is limited at this point, and really just refers to outside of our apartment. We went out to see the movie UP, (omg - bawled my eyes out. WTF Disney?!?!) and then headed over to a friend's house while the boys went for a bike ride.

It's difficult to try to find things that she CAN do - for instance she is jealous that she can't ride her bike with the boys, but I thought at least getting her some outside time would be beneficial. Heather is a wonderful friend and her and her fabulous husband put together a little get well gift bag for Taylor. They included movies, crafts (that she could do one handed), paper, stampers and a shirt that had button straps so that she could fit it on over her cast. I cannot tell you how sweet this was. I don't think I've ever appreciated my friends more than right now - when I see how unselfishly they give of themselves in the face of a small crisis. I owe them many first borns ...

Anyway, Heather had a plan for Tay, and we spent the afternoon in the backyard putting flowers in a planter intended for our balcony. Poor Taylor wasn't able to get her hands dirty, so Heather spread out the soil and encouraged her to stomp in it with her feet. Watching my baby enjoying the feel of cool dirt between her toes reminded me that there are still some pleasures she can enjoy. Heather buried and uncovered her feet over and over, made dirt balls she could throw with one hand and giggled in the afternoon sun. Once Tay's feet were inky black, Heather suggested her special foot spa to clean up those piggies.

It is amazing how little things can be so much fun. Squishing your toes in the earth, laughing in the sunshine, walking through the grass - and blowing huge bubbles that come from the depths of a foot spa! Heather added a dollop of body wash which turned out to spawn wall after growing wall of excellent bubbles and foam! Taylor, Heather, Ally and I blew bubbles in each other's faces, on our hair, on Ally. We threw them at Kyle while he took pictures of the fiasco - all the while laughing and laughing until our sides hurt.

Taylor forgot all about her limitations yesterday afternoon, and for that I am grateful. Someday, in someway, I'll be able to repay Heather with the joy she paid to my daughter at a time when she needed it. For now - I just want to say thank-you to the T-R family. We love you so much.

My father has been inspired to begin his own blog adventure - and so if you have the chance, please hop over to his page and check it out! He could use some beginners support. His account of the worst day of my life as a mother is touching.

So TIRED...

Nurse DAG is running on fumes these days. Taylor is doing so-so, she had a really rough night last night, waking at 130am and 4am crying for some pain relief. I'm still sleeping on the floor next to her bed in order to assist her in the night. This morning didn't fare much better, the advil seemed to not be touching the pain and I actually prepped her with some Gravol so that if it came to it, she could have some Tylenol with codeine. It makes her stomach so nauseous, we're doing what we can to avoid vomiting up important medications. She is still on a high dose of antibiotics to combat infection (from the grass and dirt the surgeon found inside her arm). So far no fever, and with exception to last night and this morning, she has been in pretty good spirits. Considering she is on strict bedrest and cannot leave the house or walk around, she's been a trooper.

I've officially been off work for the full week, which is problematic. With Taylor's condition as such, I obviously cannot work either of my jobs. It's going to be tough going come rent time. I don't know yet when I can return to work, tomorrow we see the new pediatric surgeon, so I may have a better idea of when she can return to normal activities. To be honest, I'm hoping she has another fews days because I can't imagine her (in her present condition) attending a full day of school and daycare. She seems so fragile still. One step at a time.

Thankyou for your comments and concern, I appreciate each and every one of them.


DAG

My Taylor lies broken...

This weekend Thing Two had a terrible accident while she was visiting Daddy for the weekend. While no one was watching, she stood up on a swingset and fell, dislocating her elbow and fracturing her arm.

This is not a little thing. She had an open fracture, where the bone broke through the skin and then back in, taking with it grass and dirt from the backyard. I met them at the hospital right away, where I watched, in awe, my tiny little peanut be the bravest little girl I've ever seen. Despite horrific pain, she allowed the doctors and nurses to do what was necessary, recieved her first IV WITHOUT MAKING A SOUND, had her first ambulance ride to another hospital and had her first surgery.

Currently, they've backed her off the morphine and demerol and she is resting uncomfortably on tylenol with codeine. She has a pin that goes from the outside of her elbow through to connect her broken bones, and two incision sites necessary to clean the wound of grass and dirt and the other to set the bones. She also has a laceration that has been sutured from where the bone exited her arm.

Tomorrow is graduation day. I am supposed to proudly walk across a stage and recieve my award for the last four years of hard work. I returned to London reluctantly, at the urging of my family and left my Taylor in Niagara Falls hospital with her papa. I know she is well taken care of, but it feels wrong to be away from my peanut when life hurts. According to the surgeon, she should come home tomorrow. It cannot come soon enough.

Thinking of you Taylor Boo.


DAG

Spring Fever

I don't know about the rest of you, but we're all about outside suddenly. The weather has turned lovely up here in Canada, buds shaking loose from the trees and grass sprouting from the warming earth. Yesterday we took the kids out to play around with bubbles and other random activities.

Here are the results:







Enjoy!

DAG

Beginnings

Happy Birthday Thing Two

Your special day has come and gone little one, but these words have lived inside me since. I watched you solve the puzzle clues and retrieve your presents and I laughed. I laughed because at seven you are still every bit the go-getter you were as an infant.

I thought about carrying you deep inside me, warm and protected while my life roared around you. Everything changed, turned upside down and inside out but your presence remained. Like your brother, you kicked me incessantly and gave me hideous heartburn - rolling and undulating like an alien child beneath my skin. And I loved you from the moment I knew you were there. I remember the hours of active labour, seventeen hours with no dilation, living in Taylor time. And then, suddenly - as is only your way - you came crashing into the world unexpectedly within forty-five minutes. I can still hear the sounds of crashing metal as the nurses ran to deliver you in my hospital room.

I remember how different you were from your older brother, not caring for cuddling and carrying but preferring to lay on your own to observe the world. I thought about the way you would squirm if I held you too long, longing to be just you in your own space. How you were insatiably hungry, never getting enough - wanting food every hour of your little life.

I thought about how, at five months old, you crawled. Determined to chase your brother you moved about "commando" style, interested to see, hear, touch and taste all the colours of your brother's world. I thought about the out and out battles we had, getting dressed, cleaning up your toys, eating dinner. I can still hear "ME DO IT, BY SELF" echoing in the hallways of my heart. But I also remember the sweet stillness of night, while I rocked your damp curls in the crook of my arm, heart to heart with your thumb in your mouth. Your fountains of ponytails on the top of your head - those big beautiful eyes and straight from the gut laughter.

There was a time you were very sick, very often - nights of rocking your feverish body to sleep in the muted lights of the hospital, praying as I kissed your hot forehead that the fever would break. I remember taking you to the emergency room for your first stitches - and holding your wee arm for your first broken bone. Your frenzied energy has always steered you at breakneck speed, and I've been right here (and will be) to help you pick up the consequential pieces.

I still remember your first day of kindergarten, watching you run FROM me to the line up, throwing a cursory "I love you" over your shoulder. You didn't need me to mediate your world anymore than you did as an infant. You love purely with every fibre of your being and with a fierceness that takes my breath away. You are all go and no stop - and by GOD do I love you sweet girl.

Happy Birthday Peanut.

Happy Birthday Thing One

The birthday came and went on Monday with the usual fanfare.
You were excited to find all your presents and tear through the paper.
I was content to tear through the memories.

You, my darling, were my first. A little boy taking residence deep inside my soul. You kicked my ribs and gave me unbearable heartburn and scared the living crap out of me. You refused to get out on time but once labor began you were quick to make an exit. After only nine hours I had a bundle of blond hair and blue eyes, my very own little apple head and I fell hopelessly and eternally in love.

On Monday - you were eight. But I thought about your first smile, your stinky baby farts, the way you used to snuggle up on my chest and go to sleep for hours. I dared not move, but committed every sigh to my emotional memory bank. The sweet smell of damp curls and pablum still makes my eyes water.

I thought about the first time you held my hand, how you cried every day for eight months when you went to daycare - how no one could satisfy you but Mom. I thought about your intensity when you play with your little cars - lined up in traffic, run over by emergency vehicles - sounds, lights and traffic cones. I thought about how much you loved your little sister, even though you were only one year old when she came crashing into your life.

I thought about your sensitivities. How loving and emotional you are - and how much you are an opposite of your baby sister. That one word or gesture can wound you indefinitely, how important those that you love are to you. The way you clung to me for dear life when you went off to kindergarten. How you begged me not to leave you in the unfamiliar line for the first grade. How I walked you to your class and told you that you were brave and then watched you run off with your best friend. How I went to my car and sobbed and sobbed.

I thought about how even though you are independent and eight, with your own room and your own stuff, organized in your own way. How you like your socks just a certain way, or hate the colour green in a shirt. How your all "growed" up but when bed time comes - you want Mom to tuck you in just the same.

I love you my child. Happy birthday.