Back to school

Guess who had his first day of school today.

No, not Japan. (silly)

It was Bode William's return to school today. It went very well.  He ran right into his classroom and never even looked back (at me).  He didn't even say hello to his teacher, Miss Amy (who was his teacher last year).  So without further ado, I just left.  It was kind of funny to be one of the "old-timers" and watch the "newbies" (the new parents) stand around, looking worriedly at their toddler to see if it was "okay" to leave them alone in the classroom. What's the big deal?  (Just kidding!)

At pick-up, it was a different scene.  The parents were happy to walk up and see their children playing in the playground. Their faces relieved of the tension held early this morning, they stood around smiling and watching their new preschoolers.  But I had some tension. I had a really hard time getting Bode to leave!  He ignored me  and would not stop playing, even when I told him that he would be back.

Miss Amy (below, in the green dress) had to help me.  After several minutes of me pleading with him to come with me, she tried talking to him.  When he ignored her, she said, "Come on, Bode, Mommy is ready...help Mommy."  And she gently picked up Bode and carried him to my car. I really like Miss Amy. More importantly, Bode likes Miss Amy a lot.

We got into the car and Bode said, "Mom (he has been calling me "Mom" for a week now), can we go to Starbucks for a treat?"  (Dude, you read my mind!)  So off we went to Starbucks for a mini celebration.  (I was going to take him to the ice cream place for a special back-to-school treat, but since he specifically requested "Starbucks"......)

He's getting so big. I can't believe that he's going to be 4 in a couple of weeks!

We ended the day in new (Fall) pjs,  reading stories before bedtime.  I really cherish my bedtime routine with my babies.  I don't want that to ever end.

Tomorrow is suture removal!  Unfortunately, Bode will miss school.  Keep your fingers crossed that the procedure is anxiety-free and painless for Bode. Whether it is good or bad, I see another treat in our future. ;)

xo

First: e.r. visit and stitches

Monday night, I was woken up by RWF.  I was in a deep sleep and when I heard him say, "Heather," I bolted up in bed.  He calmly told me that Bode had fallen out of bed and needed stitches.  He said, "I have to take him to the e.r."

My breath became shallow and my face started cracking, preparing to cry.  My baby!  "Where is he?" I asked.

"Calm down. He's fine. He's in the kitchen."  RWF pulled on some jeans and continued to tell me what he thought had happened.

But I ran out to the kitchen and Bode wasn't there. I found him walking around the living room, looking dazed.  In addition to looking dazed, his face looked crooked.

I knelt down in front of him and hugged him. He collapsed into my embrace.  I pulled away from him to study his face.  He didn't say anything, he just looked at me while I studied his face. Above his eye, a gaping, diamond shaped wound.  I immediately felt sick to my stomach. At the same time, I couldn't help but peer into the wound and examine the perfect symmetry.

RWF walked out, phone and wallet in hand, ready to go.  I escorted Bode out to the garage, and put his Crocs on his feet.  I carried Bode to the car and buckled him into his car seat. "Where are we going?" he asked, confused. I couldn't answer.  I kissed him good-bye, and said a prayer that the e.r. visit would not be as horrible as I imagined.

"Oh," RWF whispered, "It looks pretty bad up there (in Bode's bedroom) but don't let it freak you out."

As soon as they pulled onto the street, I went upstairs.  I stripped the bloody sheets, pillows and mattress pad from his bed.  I walked downstairs and put them in the wash. I went back upstairs and cleaned and straightened Bode's room, because I didn't know what else to do. Afterwards, I sat and thought about Bode.  RWF called me a few times, letting me know that they were (still) waiting and Bode was acting fine. I asked him to take Bode to Dunkin' Donuts afterwards, because Bode would deserve a special treat (after what he was about to go through).  I sat, with the t.v. on but not watching. I was thinking about Bode. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt so guilty that this had happened to him.

They left around 11 p.m., and came home at 3:30 a.m.

As soon as the headlights hit our windows, I ran out to the car. I opened the doors to get to my boy.  I was surprised to see him still in a hospital gown and scrubs.  He had stitches.  Small consolation, other than just seeing him myself, was that he was clutching a chocolate-glazed donut in his little hands and munching on it.

RWF told me that the procedure was really hard, but the pediatrician told him that Bode was doing great.  (Later, RWF would confess to me that it was really hard on him, too, because Bode was screaming, "Help me, Daddy! Help me!" while they were doing the stitches. This only confirmed what my mind had played in my head while they were away, that my boy  and husband had endured an Oscar-worthy performance, a la "Kramer vs. Kramer."). And, I have to selfishly add right here, I am so thankful that RWF was here.  He could have easily been out of town (planned but canceled). I can't imagine what I would have done, or how I would have handled this by myself.

RWF showed me all the gifts that Bode scored, a brand-new teddy bear (that Bode has been strangely attached to at night), a real stethoscope, and a face mask (ha).  Of course, I didn't give a hoot about this stuff, and only wanted it burned, because it only serves as a reminder of a horrible incident.  But I also could not help but snatch RWF's iPhone and take this snap, either:

Bode didn't have the best night of sleep, as he was pretty amped by the experience (he  asked me to lie in bed next to him (unusual for him), and he kept asking me to "wipe it (the wound) away, Mommy").  He is doing better now.  I am still suffering from PTSD.  I can't believe that I slept through a big fall. I can't believe that I didn't hear Bode crying. I can't believe that I was sleeping peacefully in my bed while my sweet boy was crying and bleeding above me. I feel so guilty. And every time I close my eyes, I see the diamond-shaped wound gaping open before me. Before I fall asleep,  I worry about another fall.   It's hard to go to sleep at night, when every creak above me is a potential disaster. Is one of my children bleeding to death above, while I sleep blissfully unaware?

Thanks to everyone for your encouraging words. I do realize that this will probably be the first of many e.r. visits and stitches (well, hopefully not too many).  It's just hard for me, because it is Bode's first, and he wasn't being rambunctious. He was simply sleeping like the angel that he is.

And, it is not over.  Bode has an appointment with a plastic surgeon on Thursday. I'm sure that he'll be thrilled to have another stranger peering at his wound.  And then a few days after that, suture removal.  Wish us luck! (though I guess the worse is over) (I hope)

Happy Wednesday.

xo

Bode Wm: 47 months and Mia Gianna: 25 months

Here's the monthly recap for Bode Wm. and Mia Gianna. The changes are many but hard to remember. I think I need to take daily notes! (I do, mentally, but then when I sit down to write it out, I've forgotten). I'm putting my random thoughts down anyway. I imagine that after this month's recap, I won't be able to write them for awhile.

*****

Dear Bode,

You are definitely growing up and are a big boy, but you have got to stop looking so much like your daddy:

Okay, this is better:

Even better:

Today I was surprised when I looked down and saw that your feet actually can touch the ground when you are in the swing.  Suddenly, you are a long-limbed, energetic little running man.  I need to remember that you're soon to be 4, and need to be given free reign to run and play. You enjoy running up to random kids in the park and saying, "Hey guys..." You are all-inclusive and fun. 

Your new expression is, "I have no idea" as in when I ask you how the play room got so messy, you'll reply, "I have no idea how it got so messy." When I got lost driving to the park yesterday, I muttered to myself, "How in the world did I get so lost?"  and you answered from the back seat, "I have no idea how you got lost, Mommy."

You are remembering your dreams more and more. You'll sit at breakfast and say, "I am starting to dream about lions, Mommy" and then you'll tell me a scary dream about lions roaming the streets and eating cars. Sometimes you seem to be lost in your own little world of make-believe. You have these long narratives about a car, a planet or a skeleton (and honestly, I have a hard time following you). You're currently fascinated with planets. You sing the "Planets" song daily, if not hourly.

You are incredibly sweet. When someone in our family is upset, you're quick to give a hug and a kiss.  In fact, tonight, Gianna picked out this book to read. I knew it was mistake to even try to read it. I've never been able to read this book without crying.  But I started reading it, and immediately, I couldn't complete the words and my eyes were filled with tears.  I said, "I'm sorry, but I can't read this book."  Gianna was in my lap and not facing me.  You looked over at me, and your face became concerned. You immediately hugged me and gave me a kiss.  I sat there and cried, and then your eyes welled up with tears, which made me cry more.  I told you, through gaspy sobs,  that I was okay. I told you that this was a happy story and it made Mommy cry happy tears, because she is happy to be a mommy like the mommy in the book. I told you the story about how Aunt Melinda sent me this book when I was pregnant with you.  How I opened it in the kitchen in our house in California and non-chalantly thought, "Oh, a book for the baby. How nice." I started reading it and suddenly was on my knees, crying. It was really a book for me. I knew then what I had suspected as soon as I was pregnant with you: that motherhood would take me on an emotional journey every day.  That I would never be the same after I met you. 

I can think of a million more cliched lines about having you as my wonderful boy. But I'll stop now.   Happy-soon-to-be-4-years-old, my sweet boy.

Love,

Mommy

xo

Dear Gianna,

You are now officially 2, and you now tell people that you are 2 when they ask. You love your brother immensely.  You repeat every little thing that your brother says.  You are his adoring mimic (you know all the words to the "Planets" song, too).  You are his side-kick in the playroom, at the park, in the yard, in the tub...everywhere. 

You are testing boundaries (because you are, after all, 2) and love to tell me "No."  You think it's funny to run in the other direction when I'm coming toward you.

You hate having your hair brushed. But you love putting on lotion, washing your hands, and brushing your teeth. You are still very opinionated about what you will (and will not) wear.

Your favorite question is, "What's dat?" because you want to know about everything that you see. I forget how much there is still for you to learn.

I forget what a baby you still are, because you pretty much hang with your older brother Bode like you two are the same age.  But then there are times when you say, "Carry me, Mommy" or you simply want to sit in my lap. Or you simply ask, "What's dat?" and I'm reminded again that you are still my baby girl.

Love,

Mommy
xo