Fall Fever

When I put it that way it sounds like a super cool trend. What I'm really talking about is an actual fever. My wild thing had his sixth monthday yesterday. Yay! He also had his first fever. I wanted to panic and dope him up as soon as I took his temperature. I had to talk myself down from the ledge. Fevers, in the normal range, are no big deal, right? All people get them. There's no need to panic, right? Tell that to a mommy who's had a child with cancer. Every fever is cause for concern.

Now, after losing a child to illness, I'm a freak when it comes to health. Any "little" thing could turn into my worst nightmare. I remember talking to the urgent care doctor one night when Jason had been vomiting and spiked a fever. He rattled off a list if things it could be. He mentioned meningitis, which terrified me since I had been very ill with it (twice) as an infant. All were relatively benign compared to the diagnosis we got a few weeks later. It was a brain tumor, a serious business one. It was just a fever, right? To me, it's never just a fever.

Nevertheless, I talked myself down from the ledge of immediately resorting to meds. A fever is just your body's way of fighting off illness and should (within reason) be allowed to run it's course. (Am I letting my crunchiness show?) We started sponging him with tepid water and nursing as much as possible. It seemed to be working when, several hours in, we checked his temp and it was 102.4. Creeping toward 103 was my cut-off. We gave him acetaminophen.

Throughout the night it stayed highish, but had broken by 8:00 the next morning. I thought all was good, aside from him being a little sleepy. Then I got out of my massage and my wild thing wouldn't look at me or really focus on anything. I had a moment of panic where I thought, "OMG! Did the f***in' fever impact his vision?" I was scared. It took a little bit of trickery on my part, but he finally looked at me and smiled. He was just mad at me for leaving him alone with my hubs for a bit. Little boogie!

It's laugh-worthy now. It wasn't at the time. It makes me think of when my cowboy had his first surgery, I think. He was in ICU and the doctors are crowded around asking a hundred questions. He, all of a sudden, yells, "I can't see." They, of course, freak out and start examining him, since he did just have brain surgery. He was talking about the tv. The plethora of doctors were blocking his view. Sheesh! Kids!

Ailments and Heartache

I am blessed to have a happy, healthy little boy. I say that with a mix of happiness and sadness. I haven't always had this luxury.

What made me think about this is the plight of several of my friends with infants. When your little one is sick or not feeling 100%, it is the worst thing in the world. I wish that their babies didn't have to suffer with rashes or spit up or reflux. I feel for them; I truly do. I look at my wild thing and he is strong and healthy. It is a blessing to have this.

Not everyone does. I know that it can be taken away at any minute. I have had the sick kid and lost the battle we fought with his illness. I never want to throw this in people's faces (well, not anymore) and say, "Yeah, well, my cowboy died. That spit up problem is nothing compared to that." That would earn me the worst friend of the year award. I do, however, realize that when it is your kid, the problem that you are dealing with at the moment is the worst.

Is your baby miserable? Colicky? Suffering from reflux or a milk sensitivity? Does he have a rash? Did he bump his head? Does he have a heart condition or cancer? Is your child dying? Each of those things, when you have to deal with them, is the worst thing for your kid. Because they are suffering and they are yours.

I look at my wild thing and feel bad when he spits up or has teething pain. It hurts my heart to see him suffer.

It hurts my heart to know that his brother, my cowboy, suffered that way times a thousand. The suffering that he experienced, while I stood by, was immeasurable. My cowboy would have taken a scraped knee like a champ because it was nothing in comparison to what he dealt with on a regular basis before he died. Does that change the way I will respond to my wild thing when he scrapes his knee? No way! My heart will hurt for the pain he is enduring because he is my baby.

I hope that the worst thing we have to deal with, as mommies, is scraped knees, colic, an occasional broken bone, and sending them away to college. I hope your heartache never matches my own.

When Did it Become Not Enough?

I want to be someone and accomplish things. I have goals for my life. I allow myself to get all wrapped up in being something. It takes a bad day or emotional week to stop and think about what I'm actually doing. It's these times that I wonder why it isn't enough to be my wild thing's mom. Raising him to be a happy, healthy, well-and-truly-loved child is a significant undertaking. So, why is that not enough? Why do I need to be more than that?

This week has been rough. Work, school, and my wild thing. Work and school have not been going as smoothly as I hoped. At times, I feel like crying because they are taking me away from what I really want to be doing. (I want to be taking care of my wild thing.) I'm even working from home and everyone tells me that it's the perfect job for a mommy. I'm doubting people's assertions about this job. I am technically here with my wild thing, but I'm often not engaged with him. It hurts me to have to keep saying, "Give mommy a few more minutes," as he cries in his bouncy seat. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's traumatic for both of us most of the time. There are moments when I want to throw in the towel.

I think back on the few weeks that I was officially unemployed. I felt like a big loser. Now that I have a job, every day is about what they want from me. Each day more is expected of me, with the impending doom of going full-time in a few months. What happened to my easy part-time job? I tell myself that I need something to motivate me and keep me going. A job has been able to do that for me in the past. It gives me a purpose of sorts, even on the days I don't like it. Now that I'm working and going to school, I realize that the thing that does, and should, keep me going is my wild thing.

Society and family (and the bills in the mailbox) don't make it easy or acceptable to be "just" a mommy. People always want to know what else you do, as if parenting isn't enough.

I could quit school and just be my wild thing's mommy, but I do want more for my life. Being in school allows me to plan that big coming into being event for several years in the future (when my wild thing is older). I "someday" want to be someone who changes the world. That day doesn't need to be today.

The part of the world that needs my influence today is a lot smaller and simpler. He's sleeping next to me snoring softly. When did it become not enough just to be his mommy?