Big Boy Glasses, Part 1

twas four nights before Christmas, and oh, am i tired,
I've been pounded and jumped on by the large squirrel we've sired


the day started early with loud little boy cries,
we then had to wrestle him to place drops in his eyes



the eye doc was darling, his assistants pure heaven,
but the news on Josh was that his eyes were +7.



we pondered the chances and asked for advice
on how to keep glasses on two-year-old eyes.



....too late to rhyme. too much noise...too much thumping...someone was crying for their mommy today, and it was NOT Josh. Jon was once a football player, and today has been one of the days where we both feel like we've been body-slammed by the opposing team. Since the day didn't start normally, we figured what the hell, we'll get some minor shopping done. Josh was too fussy to deal with glasses before we started out, so our plan was to bring him back in the afternoon and try again.



I suppose that I should back up and explain that I am officially doomed. Josh's crib is set as low as it can go, and Josh can now climb out of the crib and out of the playpen...he, of course, thinks this is great fun...I do not share his enthusiasm. Freedom from the crib means that he has given up taking naps...and I had just gotten him adjusted to a lovely set nap time. I don't even know why I bother trying to structure anything around him...it doesn't last for more than a few weeks at any point in time. Now, he still needs naps, or he's a royal chunk out of my hide the more wired and weirded out he gets, but he won't take one, and I now have no means of enforcing nap time other than to physically sit on the small boy...and I've been told by friends in the know that this is considered the highest level of poor form. Probably wouldn't matter....he is so strong, that he would probably buck me right off.



So, Josh didn't really take a nap, other than a short doze in the car, and he was wired. We convinced him to try on glasses later...he settled on a lovely pair of blue Sponge Bob frames with glow in the dark decals....the irony is that he's never watched spongebob (no, Tim, Siblings, this is not an invitation!) and we convinced him that he was now wearing "Big Boy" glasses, complete with looks of awe, clapping, fives, and little songs. The doc's assistants had to think I was totally gone (don't take the obvious shot, folks), but went along with it....and we actually had very little trouble getting Josh to keep the frames on...we had more trouble trying to take them off as he didn't want to give up his new status symbols. Well, the girls were great, they said this happens all of the time, and dug out a box of discontinued frames and just handed Josh a pair to keep. His official lenses will be ready in two weeks -- they are starting him at half-strength and will work him up to full +7 in a few months, with the possibility of contacts around age ten. He will not grow out of his farsightedness (Seriously, farsightedness?!!! I thought everyone in my family was near-sighted)...somehow he is severely farsighted and has some astigmatism (again, how is that possible? sounds like an oxymoronic statement to me) but the prescriptions will correct his eye's tendency to pull in...It isn't lazy eye yet, but it could have been, and Mom says we were lucky to catch it so early, as he would have had a rougher time in school. Another good thing is that while his lenses will magnify his eyes quite a bit, today's technology means that his lenses will actually (eventually) be thinner with the same necessary prescription that you'd ordinarily see in coke-bottle lenses...so, that's happy, I guess. I am going to make those folks sooooo many cookies.




The rest of the day was just bizarre...it was like he was rigged to an amp, and someone kept edging the dial up to eleven and injecting him with JOLT cola and pop rocks. His normal routine was shot, and he just kept playing so rough. Jon probably will have a black eye tomorrow from where Josh was doing this mad dervish dance and cracked his head into his father's cheekbone. Then Josh clubbed Jon about the head with a heavy toy lion (the King of the Misfit Toys, if you must know), and I had to get them both to separate corners, the boy in Kiddie Jail (where he was firmly and unequivocally warned after an escape attempt that "Oh,By God, you WILL stay in there!") and the Jon on the edge of the couch, cupping his hands to his eyes, in pain and exhausted. More bouncing and dervishing ensued, and Jon was really hurting the rest of the night, but finally, FINALLY Josh just collapsed...all energy spent...the demon was exorcised and down for the count.




Jon had been so sweet. He had taken today off...and tomorrow to spend time with us. I love him for it. I love that he felt that he needed to be at Josh's eye exam...probably more to keep me from worrying too much than anything else...I love that he knew that was the right place to be. I love everything he tried to do today. That said, I hate today. Every word out of my mouth is "No!" or "Stop!" or "Cut it out!" in progressively louder and less patient tones. These words were not directed at Jon...though, in fairness, by the end of this evening, I was equally fed up with everyone...more because my hackles were totally up after all of the noise and the bouncing than because of anything Jon actually did or didn't do. I can't get Josh to listen. I feel like what authority I should have is just a colossal joke, and I just want to be able to enjoy my time with my son and my husband without going from "Calm and Tired" to "Ghidorah and Tired" in a matter of seconds. That enjoying time seems to be hard to come by sometimes. It isn't that he's a bad kid -- he's not. He's healthy, active and curious, and is doing what two-year old boys are supposed to do. It isn't that Jon isn't doing his darnedest to help when he can, it's just that being the mother of a toddler seems to mean feeling utterly useless far too often. I tell you this. I keep telling you this. Why won't you ever listen? Why can't you show me that something is sinking in...that something is connecting? When will I ever feel like I'm finally getting through to you? I love you, you squirrel, don't you get that? Don't you understand that I'm trying to keep you safe and healthy and happy...while keeping us safe and happy and healthy too?



Motherhood changes everything about a person. Sometimes, you feel like you have offered the world the most amazing gift, and you can step back and say, "Behold! Weep for the Angels 'cause they ain't got him. He's so smart. He's so quick. He's so determined. Don't you feel stupid for letting him go."



Then you have the other times. "Angels, seriously. What the HELL were you thinking? He's so smart, he's so quick, he's so determined...and I don't think I can do this...I don't know how to keep up. I don't know what I have left. I'm not sure how to give more." I feel like a piece of flash paper, ready to flare up and disappear on the wind.



The only constant I've found in Momhood is that you always have redefine yourself...always, every moment...every second -- and all of the redefining centers around the question, "Am I doing this right." It's a question that is always there in the back of your head, lurking and leering at you like a third grade bully. Most of the time, I have to honestly answer that I don't know. Josh is healthy, seems not to be holding too many grudges, seems to laugh a lot, seems excited about life, seems loving. I try very hard to take those as good signs...especially when, as I often do, I feel myself start to lose direction again. When I start feeling overwhelmed again, I can't help wondering if I'm a real person or just a guardrail.




*Sigh* My clock is telling me that it's almost one in the morning...in all fairness, after the day we've had, I should not be poking into my psyche. Not this late/early anyway. I'm feeling too beat, and too inclined to wallow (wallow, wallow, wallow)...so enough already.



More to come...when I'm feeling lest angsty.




Again, Merry and a Happy to All.