You’re doing ok.

I remember when Peanut was born.

I had no idea what I was doing. Even though I had friends with children, it felt totally foreign to me. This little person that I couldn’t hand back when they wouldn’t stop crying. This tiny life that depended on me for everything.
I would question myself constantly :

Is the water too hot?
Is he wearing enough?
Should I be worried about that cough?

Am I doing anything right?

I wish this had been around 7 years ago:

The little smile from the crib at the end?
It melts my heart… just like Peanut’s little smiles used to (and still do)

For all you moms out there… You’re doing ok.

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never leave your kids alone with a MacBook

I have a very busy weekend…

Peanut got his glasses yesterday, and it was Speedy’s birthday (8!!!)
My best friend’s little girl has her 5th birthday party today. We should have LOTS of nice pictures 🙂
We are having Speedy’s family birthday party tonight.

We are having Speedy’s friend birthday party tomorrow.

(I’m grooming him much like myself, to enjoy a week-long birthday !! )

Yesterday, as I rushed around between respirology appointments, glasses pick-up and school pick-ups, I gave Peanut the computer and put Angry Birds on it for him to play.

He loves that silly game.

I rushed around, hearing him giggle and laugh, which made me smile – I was worried he wouldn’t like his new glasses and it would be a fight to get him to wear them.

Instead, when I came downstairs to see what was making him laugh so hard, I found this on my computer:

Guess he found Photo Booth.

Guess he’s ok with them.

And if this doesn’t make you laugh, you need help 🙂

Peanut and the Optometrist

Peanut has always been good about going to the Doctor. He understands that it is important to keep an eye on our health and that seeing a Doctor, of any sort, need not be a scary experience.

Recently, we went to the Optometrist. I’m expecting some old man with a lab coat and a bad hairdo. Instead, I got a bubbly young woman who, upon inspection of her diplomas strewn across the walls, is younger than me.
I’m not sure why having professionals younger than me bothers me, but it makes me feel old. At 33, I shouldn’t feel old yet. Right?… Right???

But I digress…

We got to play fun games finding numbers in pictures, we wore 3D glasses, we got to look through something that looked like a superhero mask… and then Dr R dropped the bomb on us.

Peanut needs glasses.

How, as a mother, did I miss this?? He’s 7 and has never complained about his sight before…
Although… now that I think of it, he has been blinking his right eye an awful lot lately when he’s reading.
And there is the fact that he doesn’t seem as interested in reading as he used to.

The good news?
He really only needs glasses to help his right eye “catch up” developmentally with his left eye.
This means that while he needs to wear them at all times right now, in a year or so, he may only need them occasionally.

The bad news?
Peanut doesn’t want glasses.

SO

When Dr R tells us, with great enthusiasm, that we now get to pick out some “totally cool frames”, we head out to the store to see what will suit Peanut.

Nothing.

He doesn’t want them.

It doesn’t matter that his little buddy at school wears them, or another little friend and her little sister…
Have you ever gone clothing shopping with a friend that doesn’t really enjoy it? You know that look when they come out of the change room and you know at that moment that it doesn’t matter what you put them in or how great it looks, you will always get that same reaction… slouched over, arms stuck out as if to say “there…happy?” long face…

That is now Peanut’s expression. For every. pair. of frames. It’s exasperating.

15 minutes later, we have picked the cutest frames, totally gone overboard on telling him how adorable he is and that he’s going to be the coolest kid in school (to which Monster objected, saying only kids with fluorescent blue hearing aids were the coolest) we ordered the glasses and made for home.

When we get home afterwards, I try to play it down. I don’t mention it again. The boys spend the day playing together and as far as I know, there is no mention of it. The fact that he doesn’t want to talk about it has be a bit concerned, as this is a child that normally has 4,000 questions for any life experience that occurs. Whether it affects him or not, he wants to have every detail, and understand every avenue… a bit like his mother.

So when bedtime rolls around and I am tucking him in I am surprised when he asks me “when am I getting my glasses Mom?”. I wave it off, saying “Don’t worry buddy, they won’t be in for a week or two.”
I’m sure my reaction was comical when he asked me why we couldn’t have just taken those ones home today… then I found out why.

Apparently Speedy thinks that glasses are pretty cool and he wants a pair…
I guess that will be the next trip to the Optometrist….

in which I talk about what a baby I can be….

The dreaded moment has arrived.

I’m not sure what to do.

After the words were spoken, I stood there speechless, unable to move. My eyes filled with tears. I stared up at the ceiling… I refused to let him see me cry.
His eyes met mine once again and I could immediately see that he regretted having said them. The long lashes swept down and he thoughtlessly picked at a pull in the material of his shorts.

When he finally looks back up at me, I’ve composed myself. I quietly smile, turn on my heel and close the door behind me.

Deep breaths…. in… out…

I can hardly believe it.

Peanut won’t let me help him with his Lego anymore.

He actually said “I don’t need your help anymore, Mom.”

Huh?

Heartbreaking.

This development of his autonomy is killing me.

Also?

It was hard to set an adult example today. I really wanted to throw out my bottom lip and pout about the rejection that I had experienced.

Ok, I pouted pretty badly.

I was far from adult.

I made my way downstairs, sat on the couch and sulked for a good 10 minutes.

He’s only 7… he still needs me… he can’t start rejecting me already… I’m not ready for this {insert hyperventilation here}.

That’s when the sweet little voice floated down from his bedroom :

“Mom, I’m stuck… can you help me?”

And life is good again. 🙂