Nonstop unceasing horrible aching worry interspersed with moments of mind melting wonder. That is what it is to parent. I guess it could describe every day, yesterday was a beautiful snapshot of it all.
The day before yesterday I pick up my kids at their dads house and Kosmo looks “funny” to me. Oh man I have seen this look before. It is a limp spaghetti look, his eyes don’t focus and he flops around in slow motion like a really medicated insane asylum patient nodding off in a chair by a window. Listless. The last time I saw this a few weeks ago was just moments before he projectile vomited all over my favorite nail salon. So I readied the car for the worst and mentally prepared myself for the wretching possibility that I could become stuck on a BRIDGE with a VOMITING child and ..because I do not know what he had for lunch, there was a strong possibility that MAYONNAISE could somehow make an appearance in rounding out the trifecta of my phobias. ( I feel I should mention that my windows do not roll down)
Somehow we made it home without incident…a feat! considering I drove home by intuition only, my eyes, glued to the rearview, focused on my green, floppy childs every move. I wondered if he was shooting heroin and I looked for track marks as I carried him into the house. He’s five.
All night I watched him turn down dinner, and every treat I can think of. This is my kid, usually double fisting carbs and sneaking dessert dessert ( you know the dessert for after your dessert) something is not right.
I am distracted by Ogden who is celebrating his own accomplishments.
“MOM!! I don’t have Constant Patience anymore!”
Huh?
” I finally pooped!”
Mind melting wonder! such a freaking great thing to say, I vow to never teach him to pronounce anything the right way again.
In the morning I see that Kosmo has not improved and I begin the horrible aching worry portion of my day. I take him to my local bar for second opinions. Some people have full length mirrors and husbands…I have a local bar for, ” does this look ok?” ” does this smell funny? ” ” is this normal?” …..
( I have been instructed to kind of tone it down with “does this smell funny”…but sometimes I leave my laundry in the washer a day or two too long and you know….. I’m trying)
Anyway bar consensus…somethings wrong with Kosmo. I knew it. And as I watch him fall off of a bench and then hit his head on the bench trying to get back up ( which shamefully made me laugh so hard I was shaking while comforting him ) I decide to take him to the immediate care.
Immediate care sends us to the emergency room, which strikes me as odd because we don’t seem to be having a medical emergency…other then my heart racing. On the way Ogden keeps Harrassing me, truncated version below
“MOM, MOM, MOM”..what Ogden I snap “Can we stop at Sonic” ” No” “Please we are right here” “No”” MOM, MOM, MOM, MOM, MOM” “WHAT OGDEN? Just be quiet I need to concentrate on driving to the HOSPITAL!!!” “But Mom!!” ” I just wanted to say something” ..I am screaming now ” WHAT OGDEN, THIS BETTER BE GOOD” silence …I can hear him thinking of what he needs to say that would qualify as good… “Mom” “WHAT”…” I see things that aren’t there “
bwahahaha .. mind melting wonder …Good one Ogden. It was funny..the way he said it…you had to be there it was just..trust me, We laugh all the way to the Hospital..well Ogden and I do… Kosmo just stares out the window, poisoned or head injured or worse. HORRIBLE WORRY.
Several hours later a doctor takes one quick glance at him and says it doesn’t look like a head injury…The way I could identify a Gustov Klimt painting… just one turn of the head and obvious declaration….makes me think medical school is way more helpful than art school. Despite the lack of fever and lack of sore throat Kosmo gets a strep test. And tests positive again, and asks for a popsicle on the way home.
I have drawn this very Jewish conclusion that worry is an indicator of love, and I can extend that to every aspect of worry, self worry and future worry, If you didn’t love something you wouldn’t be terrified of losing it. But you can not let the worry outweigh the wonder, the wonder is also an indicator of love…we are bored silly by the stuff we don’t care about, and fascinated beyond measure at the very functioning of our favorite things. We only celebrate the bowle movements of the those we love…You can quote me on that.
