Can You Help Me?

Sigh........

Sometimes I wonder about how my children will fair in the world by themselves someday. I worry that I'm not teaching them all the little things they need to know to survive and succeed. You know, common sense things like, using a pot holder when taking something out of the oven, or if you pick it, it will bleed. That type of stuff. Things that should be common sense, but maybe isn't.

Becky, who is now 13, came to me night before last and said, "Mom, can you help me?"

I said, "Sure, just a minute. My show is almost over. Then I will help you."

I was sitting in the dark in my bedroom watching "The Walking Dead," so I couldn't see her at all as she proceeded to sit down on the floor right outside my bedroom. She sat there quietly, patiently, waiting for me to help her.

When my show was over, I called her in. "OK, what do you need help with?" I asked somewhat annoyed.

When she walked into the room and turned on the light, I busted out laughing. I couldn't help it. There she stood, head hung, with a comb stuck in her hair! The hair all around the comb was frayed and fuzzy and twisted. It was obvious that she'd been trying to get it out herself for quite some time.

To make a long story short, she had twirled the comb in her hair about a half hour before asking for my help. She had been in her room all that time trying to get it out, only to make it much worse. I though we were going to have to cut it out. It was so tangled, my poor, blinded eyes couldn't make heads nor tails of it. Mike was no help, either. He was either laughing or suggesting to cut it out. "There's no other way," he kept saying.

Between my laughter and tears (I laughed so hard it brought tears to my eyes!) I managed to get it out with the help of another comb. Carefully, little by little, I was able to comb the snarled mess out of the stuck comb.

Becky was not happy with all the laughing, and I believe I've been warned NOT to put the story on Facebook or else something bad will happen, but she didn't say anything about my blog. So, here's the story, in its entirety, for your entertainment. Laugh if you must, as I'm sure you will, but whatever you do, don't put it on Facebook!

She's Growing Up

At the end of last week, the weather was unseasonably warm. I noticed that Rebecca was wearing long pants, and complaining about how hot it was at school. When I asked her why she didn't wear shorts, she informed me that she didn't like to wear shorts to school because she had "man legs". I didn't quite catch her drift, but she pulled her pant leg up to show me the thick growth of hair on her legs. "See? Man legs!"

I went with my first reaction and told her that she was too young to start shaving her legs. "But, all the other girls in my grade are shaving theirs!" she whined. I stuck to my guns and told her no. She wasn't too terribly upset, but she still chose to suffer the heat in her long pants.

Over the weekend, our conversation kept coming back to me, and a memory from my childhood came back to me. I remember being right around 11 or 12, Rebecca's age. The girls at school were making fun of me because of my hairy legs. My mom wouldn't let me shave my legs, either, and I was mortified. I remember begging my mom to let me shave them, but she wouldn't budge. One night in the shower, I shaved them anyway. Being young and stupid, I didn't have the sense to hide what I had done, and later that night, my mom discovered what I had done.

She was mad, really mad. She grounded me for a week for disobeying her, but I didn't care. I had already decided that whatever punishment my mom could dish out was far better than the ridicule I was getting at school. I served my grounding, and from that moment on, I shaved my legs whenever they needed it, and my mom didn't stop me.

Having remembered how I felt at that point in my life, I decided to let Rebecca shave her legs. It seems like such an insignificant task, but to a young girl (and her mother!) it's a big deal. It means she's growing up. For the girl, it's exciting. Another step toward womanhood. For the mother, it's one more step toward independence, one more piece of childhood we have to let go.

I took her into the bathroom last night, and showed her how to do it, and then I left her to finish the job herself. It took her a while. I'd imagine she took her time, so as not to cut herself with the razor. When she was done, I had her put lotion on to avoid razor burn and dry skin.

When she finally came out of the bathroom, there was a grown-up "glow" about her. She seemed to walk a little taller, and she had exchanged her long pajama pants for a pair of shorts. "Look, Mom! No more man legs!" she said smiling, and then she hugged me.

September 15, 1997

I was nine months pregnant with my second child. Tristan was five years old, Mike and I hadn't even been married a year yet, and I was miserable. I couldn't wait for this baby to be born.

As I lay in bed on the night of the 14th, I was restless. By some miracle, I managed to drift off to sleep. Some time after midnight I awoke, wet. Something was running out from between my legs and I was powerless to stop it. I yelled for Mike to wake up.

"Wha....what?" he asked, half asleep.

"I think I'm peeing the bed, but I can't stop!" I scream.

"I think my water just broke," I say, climbing out of bed and waddling to the bathroom.

Mike jumps out of bed, turning in circles while he tried to comprehend what I just said. "Hurry up! Get dressed!" he yells at me through the bathroom door. "We have to get to the hospital!"

I come out of the bathroom with a towel between my legs, and look at him. He's trying to put his clothes on. He's got his shirt on around his neck, and was trying to pull his pants on. The shirt was inside out, and the pants weren't cooperating. It was a comical sight, and I laughed at him.

"What's so funny?" he asked me. "We have to go!"

"You are funny," I say. "Settle down. I'm not even having any pains yet. We've got time."

He apparently didn't hear that last part. He was still running around, throwing on clothes, and grabbing my suitcase as he flew out of the bedroom. I preceded to get dressed, putting on clean dry clothes. Mike kept rushing me, telling me we had to go.

I finally got dressed, and we headed out the door. The hospital was a good twenty minutes away, but I wasn't worried. I hadn't even had one contraction yet. Mike, on the other hand, wasn't so calm. I could tell he was freaked. He kept talking really fast, as if that would make us move faster. His eyes were practically bugging out of his head, and he cussed anyone that happened to be in front of us on the road. No one moved fast enough. I had to remind him to watch his speed more than once. The speedometer would creep up over the speed limit until I would tell him to slow down.

At the hospital, they called the doctor on call who informed us that since I wasn't having any contractions yet, the odds of this baby coming that night were slim. I would have to wait until the next morning at 8am to be induced if nothing happened before then.

So, into a room I went to sleep the rest of the night. Of course I didn't sleep. I was too excited, and scared.

Right on time, I was induced at 8am on the 15th. Four hours later, with Mike, my mother, my mother in law, and my sister in law beside me, Rebecca was born. She came into this world weighing just a little over seven pounds. A perfect baby girl. The little twist to this story is that she came into this world on my mother's birthday.

This coming Monday, Rebecca will be eleven years old. Almost a teenager, and quite the young lady. I'm proud of her. She's a good kid. I look at her, and see a lot of me in there.

Today, as a surprise for her birthday, Mike and I went to the pet store and bought her the hamster she's been wanting for months now. We bought all the accessories for him, and had everything put together by the time she got home. She had no idea, and was thrilled! Her new hamster's name is Cookie, and has made his new home in her bedroom.

It makes me a little sad to think she's growing up so fast. I want to keep her by my side and keep her safe, but she's becoming quite the independent person. She has her own ideas and her own tastes. She doesn't need me as much as she used to, although we do have fun time and fix each other's hair and makeup once in a while. She's my only girl.

So, happy birthday, baby girl! I love you very much!

Following In My Footsteps

I'm really excited! This week, I've taken a trip down memory lane with Rebecca. She has started playing the clarinet (MY clarinet, to be exact), and volleyball.

I used to play the clarinet when I was in school. I played from fourth grade on, and was quite good, if I do say so myself. I really enjoyed it, and it was fun tonight when she came home with her new book and had to practice three new notes. I actually played a note or two myself, to show her how it should sound, of course.

I also used to play volleyball at her age. I remember one time while trying to serve the ball, I hit it, and it went behind me and into the basketball hoop. Everyone laughed, and at the time, I was really embarrassed, but now, it is funny to look back on it. She had her first game last night, and even though they lost, she had a blast, and I really enjoyed watching her.

It's really nice to have a girl. A girl that likes to do the same things I used to enjoy doing. I love to watch the boys play their sports, but being able to help Rebecca with the things she's chosen to do is so much fun! I can't wait for her first recital. She's going to be a great clarinet player!

Day Twenty-One of Summer Vacation

Much less stressful. Much, much quieter.

It's just me and Timothy today. Rebecca is at Grandma's. Tristan and Mike are at work, and all is right in the world. Well, my world anyway.

Tim is playing video games on the other computer and watching TV. I'm on my computer. The dogs are being good (for a change. No one is eating the cats at the moment.)

I can actually hear myself think today (not always a good thing, but today it's a welcome change), and I haven't said, "Knock it off!" once yet today.

I had forgotten how nice quiet is. I haven't heard it since school let out for the summer twenty-one days ago. Seems like so long ago.

Day Twenty of Summer Vacation

I don't know that I'm going to make it through the entire summer. Seriously, I just don't think I can do it.

Rebecca and Timothy are at each other constantly. Arguing, picking, and just generally irritating the hell out of each other. "Stop!" "Don't touch me!" "Quit it!" It's starting to wear on the one nerve I have left.

If I've said, "Knock it off!" once, I've said it a thousand and one times. I think I'm invisible. At least to the children, anyway. Nothing I say registers. Hell, I don't think they even know I'm in the room, yelling at them. They just continue with their meanness toward one another.

Tristan and Mike are the lucky ones. They get to leave every day. They get to go to work and have adult conversations, do work that counts for something, and have a life. I want to go to work. I want to have funny stories to tell my husband at the end of the day.

On the brighter side, tomorrow should be better.....I think. Rebecca left this afternoon for a few days at grandma's house. Tim couldn't go because of baseball practice, but at least there will be no one here for him to fight with. I suppose tomorrow he will be pestering me because he's bored.

Lovely.....

Day Fourteen of Summer Vaction

Rebecca and Timothy cleaned the kitchen....without being told.

Rebecca cleaned the bathroom.....on her own.

Timothy vacuumed the living room.....without complaint.

They put their clean laundry away.....neatly and where it belongs the first time.

The two of them played well together today with minimal fighting.





I wondering what kind of miracle had to happen for them to behave this way, and how I can re-create it?

3rd Place in the Soccer Tournament

I'm a little late, but I suppose better late than never, right?

Last Saturday, Rebecca played in a soccer tournament. Her team finished third out of six teams and took home a medal. It was a really fun day, especially because of a perfectly placed puddle in front of one of the goals.

This puddle was about the size of a small car and could stop the ball dead. The girls would be dribbling the ball down the field, going for a goal, when all of a sudden the ball stopped dead. The girl would keep going, having kicked over the top of the ball. It was hilarious! All the girls in this huge puddle fighting over a ball that refused to move, water flying everywhere!

Needless to say, there were many wet, muddy girls by the end of the day. I had a hard time getting her uniform clean, that's for sure!

There's Nothing Wrong-Update on Rebecca

So, we went to the neuroscience specialist in Milwaukee yesterday, hoping he could shed some light on the subject of Rebecca's eyes. And shed some light, he did!

According to him, there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. She just needed glasses.

Let me explain the best I can. He used lots of big words, but I got the idea. What the other doctor saw was not swelling on her optical nerves. Rebecca is far-sighted, and far-sighted people have smaller eyes. Smaller eyes do not allow for enough room for the millions of optic fibers and nerves to lay smoothly in the optic nerve. This produces a bunching up of the fibers at the entrance to the optic nerve, making it look swollen.

According to him, this is normal, and he sees it alot. He's seen it look much worse than what Rebecca's looks. This is her normal, and it causes no problems. She does have somewhat of a lazy eye, but her new glasses will help to correct that. Her right eye is much worse than her left eye, but there again, her glasses are helping her tremendously.

So, there's nothing wrong with her brain. There's nothing wrong with her eyes. She just needs glasses.

I'm so glad this has come to an end. You cannot begin to understand the relief I felt when he explained things to us and showed us illustrations. Rebecca is not going blind. I cried when he told us.

Update On Rebecca's MRI

Well, the good news is, Rebecca's MRI results came back fine. No tumors or anything that is causing her vision loss. The bad news is, we still don't know what is causing her problem.

I guess I'm relieved that she doesn't have some kind of tumor in her brain, but I'm still worried. Now, she has to go see a neurologist, which we will do April 23rd. From what I understand, she may have to have a spinal tap to determine if she has this Papillodema thing or not.

The nurse at the hospital wouldn't let me go in with her for the MRI, which made me mad, but she did fine. I'm hoping they will let me go in with her for the spinal tap if she has to have one. I don't know if they allow that or not, but I want to be with her so she's not so scared. She's a brave girl, but I'll admit, a spinal tap scares me to death! I don't let her know that, though.

When I know more, I'll be sure to post it here.

The Sleepover: An Update

It's going better than I expected. The girls have been pretty well behaved, although I haven't been upstairs to see the mess they've created in Rebecca's room.

The girls even included Timothy in on their fun. Last night, they all played a game of Monopoly, staying up until 3am, and this morning they used the scores of makeup Rebecca's friend brought to paint Timothy's face up like a clown. I think he was less than thrilled with the results because he washed it all off before I could see it and take a picture. He knows me too well!

I'll have to admit, no matter how much fun it's been for everyone, I'll be glad when Mike gets home from work and takes her home. The noise level around here has been a bit above tolerable, and I'm looking forward to some much needed quiet. The dogs will be happy, too. They've been on edge the whole day, barking and growling at the least little thing.

My Children

I just realized that I haven't talked about my kids as much as I had wanted to. After all, I am a mother of three wonderful children. Getting to know them a little bit, gives some insight as to who I am.

First of all there's Tristan, your somewhat typical teenager. He's 15 and a Sophomore in high school. He wrestles and plays football for the high school, and carries a 3.99 GPA. Other than being obsessed with his girlfriend, he's a great kid. He makes me laugh.....a lot!

Next is Rebecca. She's my informer. If I want to know anything about either of the other two children (and even if I don't), she will tell me. For this reason, the two boys are less than thrilled that she's their sister. She's 10 and in fourth grade. She aspires to be a teacher someday, and with her grades and likability, I have no doubt that she'll make a wonderful teacher!

Then there's Timothy. He's my youngest at age 8. He has a mind of his own, and a stubborn streak a mile long! He has been the most trying of my three children right from the beginning. Tim is in second grade and already knows that school is not one of his favorite things. He's all boy and would rather spend his time outside hunting for bugs and playing baseball. His sense of humor is so different than Tristan's but he never ceases to make me laugh with his silly antics and innocence.

I'm really proud of all my children. Each brings to my life something different, something that I could never imagine being without.