The first ER visit

Saturday was a beautiful day.  The kids and I were outside.  Husband was inside, finishing up some last minute things for his graduation on this coming Saturday. 

The kids were playing with water blasters.  I was skimming the pool.

I suddenly heard a terrible scream.

Not a normal scream.

Not a "I tripped and hurt my leg" scream.

Not a "I banged my arm on the deck" scream.

I ran to PJ who was crying, screaming. 

"WHAT HAPPENED BABY??"

I look and see a gash.  About an inch and half, bleeding, on his upper back between his shoulder and his neck.

It's deep, it's bleeding and it's wide. 

I scream for John.

Through tears, PJ tells me he cut it on the grill.

The corner of the metal tray of our grill.  He must have went under it -- and with no shirt on.

I know you're supposed to stay calm when your child is upset.  I lost it.

"We have to go to the ER.  I have to go now.  Can you take Maggie?"

I couldn't make sense.  I got PJ dressed as quickly as I could.  John was going to follow with Maggie and after he took care of our puppy.

I let PJ sit in the front seat with me.  I held his hand.  He was so sad.  I was sad.  My poor baby.

We've never been to our "new" hospital.  Since we moved. 

They were extremely nice.  We waited about 15 minutes till we were seen.

Once we went through triage and settled in a room, John had to leave -- he had tickets to the Game 5 of the Blackhawks/Kings series.  Expensive tickets.  I told him to go.  I would handle it.  I'm a mom. 

He felt terrible, but he went.

My poor bubba needed six stitches.  :(

He was so brave.  He screamed and cries so hard when they gave him the numbing agent (it was a big needled) and  I cried with him and held his hand.  I talked to him through the stitches, told him we would go to the toy store and have pizza for dinner.

My tough little guy.

When it was done, Maggie (who'd been pretty much frozen in her spot since PJ had screamed) went up to her big brother and said

"Don't you get hurt again PJ!"

"I won't Maggie."
It was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me.  He's fine, he'll have a scar and he's handling it better than I did and am.

I just know I never want to feel that way again.

Six stitches and a turtle toy later.

Shh, it's a secret.

http://savethedramaforyourmamaandpush.blogspot.com/

You need to get my permission.

Thanks, Bec, for the idea.

Peeing

PJ got in trouble at school yesterday.

For peeing.

Outside.

On a tree.

At school.

Because his mom taught him it's okay to pee outside on a tree -- you know, if we're driving and he has to go, and there's no bathroom, or we're outside playing.

MOTY.

When you can't call Mom

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, but this post on Scary Mommy inspired me to write this today.

I missed my mom a lot yesterday.  I miss her every day, of course, but yesterday was one of those days.

It was Memorial Day.  She would always have a BBQ on Memorial Day, Labor Day, whatever.  We'd go there, she'd make way too much food, encourage us to drink too much.  She and I would end up going shopping somewhere where she'd undoubtedly buy something for me -- a shirt, something for my kitchen, whatever it might be.

It's hard being a mom without having your own mom to talk to.

I do have my stepdad, but he never had his own kids.  He came into our lives when I was nearly 8.  So he has no memories or stories, no advice or experiences, with kids under 8, and even then, he tried to stay out of the parenting, and let my mom do it.

I hear many of my friends talking about their moms.

"My mom said I did the same thing."

"My mom told me to try this."

"My mom just laughed at me."
I never got to share the experience of being a mom with my mom.  She was diagnosed with ALS before PJ was three months old.  She started to lose her ability to speak/communicate about a year later.  I never wanted to bother her with issues with PJ -- she was dealing with a fatal disease.

I have my mother in law.  While she's great, and has really stepped up since I lost my mom, she's not MY mom.  Luckily, she understands that she will never replace my mom.

I think back to my childhood.  We lived with my grandparents till my grandmother passed away when I was 18.  Eighteen is young to lose a grandparent, considering my husband who is 32 has three of his four still left and the one passed away when he was 26.  But my grandma was there for all my "big stuff", save my wedding and the birth of my children.

My kids get confused when I talk about my mom.  PJ vaguely remembers her, but there's not much to remember.  All she could do in his memory was sit on the couch. So they see my MIL as grandma and can't understand when I talk about grandma in heaven.

It breaks my heart.

People complain about their parents, or their in-laws.  Sometimes their have shitty parents or in-laws that should be complained about.   I would trade anything for the worst day I had with my mom.

Being a mom is hard.  It's rewarding beyond words.  It's the best thing I have ever done, it's the only thing I want to do everyday for the rest of my life.  But it's hard. Sometimes I rock being a mom, and sometimes I suck.  Sometimes I am confident in my decisions, and sometimes I do nothing but doubt myself. 

But every time, I wish I could just talk to my mom.

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Tomorrow...we walk

Tomorrow, we walk to defeat ALS. 

In memory of my mom.

Who lost her battle with this horrible disease.

It's too late for her, but it's not late to stop someone else from ever having to hear the words

"You have ALS."

It's only three words.

Three words that have so much meaning.

Three words, that to a person unfamiliar with the disease would think, "this is bad.  really bad."

Three words, to a person familiar with the disease would not be able think.

Because they would know that soon.

They won't be able to turn the page of their book.

Soon they won't be able to wash their hair.

Hug their child.

Tie their shoes.

Feed themselves.

Walk.

Breathe.

 

If you want to donate, please click the link below.

 

http://webchicago.alsa.org/site/TR/Walks/Chicago?px=2675921&pg=personal&fr_id=8850

Mom, I have a girlfriend.

One day last week, after school, PJ said to me

"Mom, I have a girlfriend?"

"You do?  What's her name?"

"Grace."

"What's this whore Grace's deal?"

Yup, that's me.  Calling a 5 or 6 year old a whore.

Mother of the year.

Suckage.

Me.  I suck.  Big time. 

I don't know why I'm not posting more. 

But I am posting today and it's gonna rock.

Maggie needs to be potty trained by late August so she can go to the preschool FOUR BLOCKS FROM OUR HOUSE that is cheaper than our current sitter.

PJ started baseball.  It's freaking adorable to watch a bunch of four year olds running around playing baseball.  Seriously.

Our pool is hopefully being installed May 10.

I say hopefully because I live in Chicago, yo.  We got about four gazillion inches of rain last week and I am sure people who were getting their pools installed in the past couple weeks had to reschedule, which means we might have to reschedule, but hey, with the way this weather is going, we won't be able to swim till July anyhow.

Turning 4 has turned PJ into this little kid.  He suddenly reasons, asks thoughtful questions, admonishes on bad behavior.  Is 4  a magic drug or something?  I mean, he seems SO grown up.

The past month has been pretty good.  We went to the Wisconsin Dells over spring break which was fun.  We've had a few nice days where we could play outside and finally enjoy our awesome new yard and our fantstic new neighborhood.

I got to go to Hooters, and let me tell you.  Boneless wings and TMI.  Go get some now.

This weekend is PJ's opening day for baseball and picture day.  Saturday night we're going to an event to support ALS and I'm very much looking forward to it.

Please come back to me, even though I keep slacking. :)