Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the joys of motherhood. Wait, I forgot to latch the screen door. I've almost got a baby escapee on my hands.
Okay. Over the last five & a half years, I've had to raise my son with occasional help from my husband. He's not bad, he helps when he can. It's just that he's the main breadwinner. When Nick was born, he was a contractor who worked out of town a lot. Came home every other weekend. Hang on, the baby's ready for a nap.
Nick was especially ornery. He had to be held all the time. He had a severe case of colic. After about a month of no sleep, I discovered Mylecon, the best invention ever. He constantly had ear infections, sinus infections, pink eye, chest infections, you name it. I stayed home with him for 5 months before going back to work. After about a month and a half of working (I went back part-time), I got a call at the office from his daycare. He was crying and wouldn't stop. I heard him in the background SCREAMING! I left immediately. Turns out his leg was broken. Long story short, months of Children and Family services harrassing me (his daycare was in another county so they couldn't go after them. Supposedly Leon County was dealing with her), ended with them trying to take him away from us. They dropped the case the day before we were to be in court for them to try to make Nick a ward of the state. They said they didn't have any evidence, DUH! I couldn't understand how God could let this happen to a little baby.
During this time, I saw an intern from my doctor's office out and about. He asked how Nick was doing and I told him. He said we were very lucky because the kind of break he had (spiral fracture-in other words, angled) and us moving him around before we found out what was the matter, could've moved the bone and severed a blood vessel. As fat as his little legs were, he could've had severe internal bleeding and we might not have noticed any bruising until it was too late. This is when I realized that God actually WAS looking out for him.
My baby was in a cast covering both legs with a bar in between and the lower portion of his chest. And we never did find out how it happened. When we found out his leg was broken, I called her and told her. All she could say was, "Oh, my God" over and over. Not, "How did that happen?" or anything of that nature. She wouldn't tell me anything, just "Oh my God". You can imagine I wasn't eager to leave him with anyone else. I took the rest of my vacation, sick, and personal leave, then, realizing I couldn't quit my job (I had the health insurance), started leaving him with my husband's stepmother. After the cast came off, he stayed with one of her friends who kept children in her home. This woman, I realized after a year of worrying, was such a blessing.
Luckily, this situation didn't stifle his motor skills. He was walking within a month. I've said he was ornery, but really, after the colic subsided, he was a very happy baby. I looked through our pictures yesterday. They stand as a testament to my son's zest for life.
Fast forward to January 2004. I'm 3 months pregnant with Katie and I'm driving my son to school. While waiting to turn into the parking lot, a garbage truck creams us. My son had xrays and thankfully, everything was okay. Not so for me. I nearly lost the baby from a placental abruption (where the placenta is ripped from the uterus so the baby can't get nutrition and slowly starves to death). Two and a half weeks of strict bedrest. I couldn't even crochet. Now, a year and a half later, I've finally had xrays and MRI done on my neck and back. I've sustained severe ligament damage that can't be fixed. I hurt today, but not too bad. I'm depressed to realize that this is probably the best I'll ever feel again.
Again, though, Katie was born in July 2004 a healthy baby. As of now, she's crawling, pulling up, chewing on everything. If you turn your back for one second, she'll grow a slobbery dog fur mustache and beard. I tell you, no matter how much you clean, a baby will make you feel like the worse housekeeper on earth.
I've been thrown up on, peed and pooped on, scratched, bitten, and tripped. I've been woken up every 2 hours (this is still happening off and on), then had to get up at 5 am, get the kids ready (my husband's already at work at this point), get myself ready, wrangle them into the van, drop off at school, drop off at daycare, and be at work by 8 am. Work for 8 hours, pick up at school, pick up at daycare, drive home to Katie's latest greatest hits such as, spitting on Nick, a high pitch squeal that could break normal glass, the bababababa song, and most recently, tongue clicking. All the while hearing from my son what other kids did to get into trouble that day (this is usually to soften the blow that he got in trouble himself).
We get home, open the door, nearly get bowled over by the dogs trying to get out. Have to feed Katie, then get dinner started. Maybe some laundry. Get Nick to do his homework. Bathe the kids. Katie goes to bed, then Nick. Then I get some me time for the 30 minutes until I go to bed. That's if I'm not folding clothes or straightening up. Go to bed and do it all over again. It's very tiring.
Some days I wonder why I chose to do this. Evenings always bring chaos. Katie trying to take Nick's toys. Nick's nonstop chatter. My husband aggravating him. There is no peace. The kids both talk in their sleep, even.
As I sit here now on Mothers Day (my husband's at work and I've got the kids) looking out over the sea of toys covering the floor and thinking back on all the trials and tribulations of parenthood, with the Xbox blaring in the background (son still chattering), I find I am at peace. Right now, I could go peek at Katie in the bed, and she would be a sleeping little angel, clutching a pink blanket I made for her. My kids are happy and healthy. I have a good husband. My life's not so bad. We may not have much, but the bills are paid, and we've got food enough for the week.
What I'm trying to say is that even with the everyday chaos, I am truly blessed. When Nick and Katie are playing together on the floor, and I see their genuine smiles, when I lay down at night, and my husband is still by my side, when he comes home from his job as a Deputy, I am blessed. The simplest phrase that says so much. I am blessed.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go fish a Transformer out of the toilet.
