Praise the preschool teachers among us

We said no to crackers. Well first we warned that he would get two more, then we gave him 2 more, then we said no to more. The day kind of took a downward spiral after that. I hope he took more away from preschool open house than the memory of being dragged home down the sidewalk screaming with mom on one side and dad on the other. Two hours later I wasn't sure he still remembered why he was so mad. Clayton, can you tell me what is wrong? MORE CRACKERS. Okay, he remembers. The kid has a mind like a steel trap. But we press on. And we snap photos of puffy-eyed rage because laughing at the absurdity of the two year-old meltdown is the final step before locking yourself in your bedroom with a bottle of whatever we might be convenient. And if you don't know, the two year-old meltdown is contagious, which brings me to my sympathy for their teacher as she will have 8 of them to contend with, and she won't have any booze to turn to for comfort nor does she carry a camera in her pocket to lighten the mood. Bless you.

Someday we will say...

Remember when they were two and a half and Clayton was afraid to poop or to step on shiny floors so we had to plan our outings around those two inevitable situations?  Remember that he collected every washcloth in the house and needed to take them to bed every night and even though there were 15 of them he knew if even one of his 'little towels' was missing and had to go back out an find it? Remember that month Ella was terrified of the bathtub? Remember how she only ate fruit and chips and yogurt covered raisins and how she munched the chips, appropriately enough, like a chipmunk and more landed on the floor than in her mouth? Remember how Mya was never really in ketosis when she needed to be but then when we decided to call it quits we couldn't get her out? Remember how that whole summer she wanted to see us between 2 and 4am every night and how in the throes of exhaustion we finally said f-it and bought her a TV? Remember how the DVD player broke after 3 nights? Remember when 'please don't throw the beans' meant without a doubt that they would throw the beans and when they thought time-out was funny? Remember how sometimes the only way I made it from the morning's first 'Hi mommy!' to nap time was the phrase 'they are two, they mean no harm' that I repeated in my head over and over again? Remember how you really thought you were going to lose your mind but somehow you never did? Remember how Clayton would have to search out 'his Ella' if he couldn't see her on the playground and no matter how fired up they were the second they saw that Mya needed our help they made themselves into angels? Remember how much Clayton was in love with quarters? And black phones? And remotes? And cars? And keys? And yellow? And how great Ella was with her dollie and how much Mya liked to snuggle?

AND I have no creative title

We sat at the double wide table. A nurse, neonatologist and neurologist followed us in. My first thought when that grayscale image popped onto the screen: please God don’t let that be my daughter’s brain. Let it be some screen saver, some example of just how much damage could be done, let it be from the poor couple that entered this room before us to have their dreams shattered. And then they started talking and they didn’t switch the image. And I knew. I didn’t need their words. Nothing about this was going to be easy, nothing at all. And then I couldn’t breathe and the tears I was fighting with every ounce of the strength I had built over those long months started to flow and I just couldn’t stop them. The concerned eyes and the glossy words just blurred into the white walls and that grayscale image burned into my mind. How are we going to do this? This is not what I wanted. This can’t possibly be happening. She fought for this, to be here in this world. Now you are telling me that the parts that keep her here are well intact but the whole rest of it, the parts that define us and comprehend the world around us, those you aren’t so sure about? And they closed with, ‘but she is beautiful’.

If you would have told me two years and four months ago when I walked out of that room that I would be sitting here typing one handed on a balanced keyboard with that little girl on my shoulder, the only thing that calms her some nights, with her evening meal being pumped into her belly through a tube, and that the most stressful part of my day will have been prompted by her brother and sister’s reluctance to share, I would not have believed you. If you had followed with an example of our every day exchanges, something like yesterday’s ‘Is she stuck in a seizure?’ answered quickly with a ‘Yep. What do you want from McAlister’s?’ and told me that we would be just fine I would have said no way. But we are fine. And she is beautiful. And tonight she got excited that she could brush her fisted hand across the smooth cover of a book. And I was proud because I know that it was purposeful. Tonight she was happy. So to two years and four months ago me, you can breathe.

Things that have bothered me in the last 24 hours

Anyone living in the midwest right now with a perfectly green lawn.
The question 'what is that?' to internet posts. You are online. Look it up.
DVD players that break on the third use.
Humidity.
When the feeding pump pumps air before the food is finished (completely my fault).
Hair dressers who switch salons right after they master your cut to one more expensive upscale .
Drivers who accelerate into your merging room after you have signaled.

Alarm clocks.
Political calls.

Easy Enough

And it's been a while since I have written about my disastrous attempts to leave the house. This field-trip Friday I thought maybe we would make a few stops and then hit a park. I needed one thing from the fabric store and one thing from Target to keep moving on my pricing and tagging for next weekend's consignment sale: safety pins and card stock. Easy enough? I was feeling pretty cocky as we paraded into the fabric store. Everyone was listening and holding onto the stroller in their designated spots. No one darted into traffic and all dollies were left to guard the carseats without protest. I ignored the nice couple going on about my sleeping little boy (not in fact a little boy and not in fact sleeping) and went about my shopping experience. Until. We crossed the threshold of the carpet entryway onto the shiny waxed tile floor. Oh yes. I remember now. Clayton is afraid of shiny floors. Grand. So I carry his adorably petrified self and push the stroller at toddler walking pace and find our safety pins. In order to exit they wanted me to pay for the safety pins. Who knew? So to do that I needed to dig my purse out of the bottom of the stroller and set the little boy (the real one this time) down on the shiny floor to do so. This stroller has a ton of bells and whistles for the kid mind you, but access to your purse is not one of the advertised features. Let's just say the fabric store people smiled kindly and were happy as we made our way out the door.

Back in the car. My arm is tired, Clayton wants the keys. I need the keys to drive. I both won and lost that argument. So the deal at target was he got to hold the keys if he stopped screaming. Phew. Again they are walking like big kids, this day just might turn itself around. Crap. The floor. He sits down at the edge of the carpet as at least 10 target patrons that have to stop short behind us wonder what I am doing to my child. Up you go buddy, let's get this done. And by get this done that would require buying card stock. Which they apparently stopped carrying sometime between when I bought it there 6 months ago and today. Fabulous. I could use so Zip-lock baggies so we grab those and head to the checkout. The lady takes one look at my entourage and then 3 or 4 looks at my Zip-locks. Is that all? Yep, we had a Zip-lock emergency, just ring it up please. My arms is about to fall off. Clayton hang on! Back to the car. Rewind and replay they key excitement. And we skipped the park. And I am not tagging and pinning because I don't have card stock to print on. But they are napping. Success! We did save the afternoon with biscuits. So I will leave you with photos. Mya and Ella were angels today by the way. THANK YOU LADIES!