This past weekend (I can still say that even though it's Thursday, right?), we were planning on laying low because hubs had quarter close and we just had lots of stuff to get done. So Friday morning (one of the first Fridays in awhile I've had NO work to do), the kids and I woke up with an easy errand list to accomplish: make cookie dough for an upcoming party, make pizza dough for the nights' dinner, head to Gobbles' eye dr appointment, pick up our fence permit, go grocery shopping, and come home and make pizza for dinner.
We finished up the kitchen prep pretty quickly after breakfast, giving the us a chance to play "netball" on the sunporch as the kids named it and build a fort in the family room. After lunch we trekked down to the hospital for the anxiety-inducing semi-annual event that is Gobbles' eye exam. I could tell they were hopping busy because the Dr. didn't even come in for the prior to dilation part, so they took down our recent changes and ran Gobbles through the steps of reading letters off the wall. This time, the Lobster whispered her corrections to his missed letters in my ear as he misread. He took his drops like a champ and we were sent back out to the waiting room for his pupils to grow.
An hour later we were called back in for the moment of truth, but were forced to wait a little (45 minutes) longer in the tiny exam room. The kids passed the time by practicing directions along the colored tiles, turning right and left as I instructed. When that got old we played good old-fashioned whisper down the lane, where despite only having three people and loud whispers we still managed to mangle the sayings. The doctor finally came in to exam my boy and gave us the first sigh of relief- not a significant change. So the super expensive prescription swim goggles and rec specs we have for our activities can remain, while Gobbles will surely get another pair of regular glasses anyway since they're pretty beat up.
Then came the discussion that returned that old lump to my throat and tears to the back of my eyes. The doctor reminded me that next appointment, we'll have to schedule an additional specialist to discuss visual aids for future schooling. Examples she brought up were a magnifying glass for desk work and a compact little telescope (like a pirate??) for auditorium gatherings. My heart sank as I was once again hit with the reality that he won't just get to be a regular kid in class. Not that I mind him sitting in the front of the room all the time, but having tools? I can hear the jeers of future classmates now, stupid mean kids. Anyway, I'm projecting again.
The kids begged to play at the hospital playground when we left, and armed with my giant sunglasses to protect his light-sensitive dilated eyes, Gobbles was set. While we were out there I got a text from a daycare mom saying she'd given her kids a home day today but now they were driving her nuts, so we agreed to meet up at a park closer to my house. I dragged the kids off the playground with the promise of another playground, this time with friends, and home we drove. At the new park, the kids ran and played and the mom and I chatted. Surprisingly, the older two (Gobbles and the one we always call his girlfriend) were not feeling each other and got into a little tiff which the mom and I were cracking up at. A few Gatorades later everyone was happy and we were making plans to go back to our house for pizza, the rest of our errand list put off to another day.
When we got home the dogs ran around excitedly at the unexpected company, I threw the pizza crust I'd made in the freezer (the other ingredients were still on the grocery list) and met the delivery guy in the driveway with some fresh hot ones just as the dad was walking up the driveway with a case of beer. We all hung out on the sunporch eating pizza, drinking beers (or capri suns), and playing. I gave myself a secret pat on the back for being spontaneous and not worrying about the state of the house before having company over, though I knew the busy mom with me probably didn't even notice.
The next day, with hubs off to work after arriving home pretty late the night before, my sister came to the pool with the kids and I. They showed off their swimming skills (jumping in skills?) while she did me a favor by watching them for a half hour while I swam laps. Gobbles tried and tried to dive off the diving board, but each time jumped at the last minute. He and the Lobster demanded I show them how I dive (and a cannonball) so I did just that to the entertainment of the lifeguards. After a few hours my sister was off to the shore and the kids and I got a text from hubs that he was on his way home - YIPPIE!
We swung home to pick up hubs because we decided to hit up the bike race and associated festivities since he was now free. There was a free kids' race to kick of the day, and we wanted to make it in time to register the kids. I'm so thankful that hubs made it because I didn't realize they'd be in two different age groups at the start line, and waiting for the race to start took at least a half hour. Hubs stuck with Gobbles while I hung out with the Lobster, who was not confident in her regular bicycle abilities so she opted to use a plasma bike instead.
As soon as they said GO, my daughter transformed into something I've never seen before. My always silly, bubbly, not a care in the world kid turned into this serious and determined racing machine. At one point I told her to smile because her look was so intense I was afraid she'd pop a blood vessel. When I showed a coworker the video later she said "oh wow, that's exactly how you are when you race". Even though this woman has never seen me race, I think she's right, the Lobster took it so seriously and just had her eyes on the finish line, I'm so proud.
We managed to get her medal and get situated at a spot beyond the finish line before Gobbles came down the road. He held his own among a lot of kids that were bigger than him and was so proud of himself for "passing two kids" out of his 6 person group. He did later emphasize that he really wants to try without the training wheels, and we will soon. Things like that are number 1 on my working-mom guilt list. Though he's worlds ahead on socialization and school type things, he's behind his non-daycare peers on things that he just doesn't have the time to do every day because he's just never home. He'll get there though.
Gobbles got his medal and the kids paraded around with their new bling proudly. First we got a shaved ice to celebrate and then the kids made their way up and down the street to all of the usual town vendor booths, adding to our collection swag with more frisbees, flashlights, beach balls, and hand sanitizers, as if we didn't have enough. We watched the adult tricycle competition before stopping into Iron Hill to see what kind of wait they had for dinner. Shockingly, it was only 20 minutes (probably due to the outdoor beer garden and all of the festivities still going on) so we had a yummy dinner with custom bike race beers and the lobster eating half of my mussels after deciding she loved them.
We came out shortly after the professional women's race began and managed to find a decent spot to watch a few laps. As the kids got antsy we made our way closer to the finish line where we saw a fantastic finish with a 49 year old woman threading the needle at the last minute to pull off a win. After the victory speech we made our way further down the road to watch the men's race begin. It was amazing to see the start of the race as the field gets chopped when a biker gets lapped. For the first few it was just a streak of bicycles providing a legitimate breeze each time they whirred by. With 55 laps to go and the kids getting droopy eyed, we headed home with a stop for ice cream on the way (per the Lobster's request). Pretty soon we were all in bed, ready for a lazy Sunday that consisted of grocery shopping, dog walking, and more bike riding.
Hey mom, i'm really creative, let's call this "net ball"
Can you see me in the fort?
Whisper down the lane!
as K said "this is the best day EVER!"
Here we come, Aunt M!
Karate JUMP!
I LOVE the slide! Even when the water isn't working!
check out my form! I'm getting better...
ok Lobster, just tuck and Roll if you fall over!
my spiderman bike is cooler than YOUR spiderman bike!
Getting a pep talk from mommy!
Let's do this!
Whoo hoo! Now I can breathe!
Oh I'm ready dad!
We're like celebrities!
Check out this bling!
Yes. I'm eating mussels. Now more please!
The best swag we got - cowbells!!!
Wow they're so fast we can't see them!
If you listen closely, you can hear the announcer say "This girl is like
the Truman Show, every moment of her life has been documented on that phone". Very true, sir!
and Gobbles is OFF!
Gobbles at the finish line.. here he comes on that spiderman bike!
I mentioned in one of my earlier posts that these kids were doing swim lessons. Those high-intensity crazy courses that suck the life out of you every night for two weeks straight. Gobbles had taken them last year, but the Lobster was in for a treat. We may have rounded up on her age to get her in, but having spent so much time at the pool this summer, we're glad we did. I mean, look how happy she was to get started! Seriously though, after making the decision to join the pool knowing that it would be just me most of the time with the kids, we knew we wanted the kids to be able to "save themselves" should they end up in unfamiliar waters.
Anyway, Gobbles thrived at the second level, where they taught basic strokes and propelling through the water. We didn't really notice the real fruits of his work until our time at the pool, where he is now diving for sinking toys, jumping of the diving board, and hitting the slide with no problem getting across the water to the wall. He's even played a round or two of sharks and minnows with the big kids in the deep end, and just recently started actually diving into the water.
I think he's also been aided by the true-to-prescription goggles that we coughed up an exuberant amount of money for but are very worth it since he can actually see now in the pool. He's still not the most graceful freestyle swimmer, but every time we're in the pool he seems to get more strokes and breaths in before a break is needed. All that matters to me is that he can tread water like a champ!
Now the Lobster, oh I think we failed her. Because the swim lessons used to be for any age, we figured what the heck let's try. She did great, floating herself to the top and passing the beginner test which included "swimming" on her back out to the rope and back unassisted. The only problem was the jumping in. Yea, that's tough. Every.single.time it was her turn to jump in, someone had to throw her. I think there was one time she tried on her own and ended up bumping her butt on the wall. This might have traumatized her a bit because now when we swim she demands that I hold her hands when she jumps in. She's currently using a puddle jumper at the pool (against the swim instructor's warnings that all will be unlearned) about half the time, and with that she will jump in on her own. She has been improving though, because she will keep jumping in despite me letting go of her hands every time (like charlie brown with the football). On those times I do let go, she pops right back up to the surface as if the lessons were yesterday.
Each day the Lobster makes me promise that she'll never need swim lessons again, I told her if she can swim across the pool at the end of the summer without her puddle jumper then we have a deal. So far, she's gone about 4 feet. We still have a month, we'll get there :)
I hate you for making me do this
The jig is up, mom, they probably know I'm not 4!
I DON'T WANNA JUMP!
I hate you for making me do this!
My instructor hates you for making me do this too!
Did mommy mention that she and Di's mom thought my instructor was hot?
Even though he pushed my head underwater multiple times to get me to breathe right!
Swim test (with a pan over to Gobbles) and the deep water swim:
A few weeks ago my Dad accompanied the kids and I to a little mini-golf outing. The Lobster still picked up the ball and carried it over to the hole after one stroke (but somehow landed herself another hole in one), and Gobbles started getting serious about his game. Impatient for others to have their turn, but serious on his. I think we counted his score for more than a few holes before he started guiding it hockey-style into the cup like he usually does.
The real fun began when we went to the driving range. First, we tried upstairs figuring the kids would be less disruptive to the oh-so-serious golfers. The problem was, we were so paranoid about the kids falling off the driving platform that I wouldn't let go of the Lobster and she screamed like a banshee. The few golfers who were up there (I'm pretty sure the former owner of my house among them), gave us death stares until we tiptoed back down the steps. However, this shameful trip down the stairs was not before Gobbles swung a few shots right down the fairway, at least 50 yards.
In this short outing, he found a new sport to love, and one that I would be happy that he stuck with (no fear of detached retinas in golf). Now, since he kept switch-hitting with the head of his club on the left side and driving it just as far, if only I can figure out his proper handing before we immerse him into the life of a semi-pro.
My shoes might not be proper for golfing, but my skirt helps me look the part!
Go Gobbles Go! Oh, I'm not supposed to yell?
Ok grandpop, i've got my ball in!
Oh,I need grace and patience? Not sure how well I'm gonna do here!
Cheese! Wait - what's over there?
This is noooo fun, nooo fun, sitting on the concrete muuuushhhroom!
All good golfers take at least 74 pictures before hole 16.
Why do we always have to WAIT for you?
We LOVE golf...
Well, really we love hanging out with Grandpop!
I just needed one quick lesson!
And off I went!
First line it up...
... Then wind back...
And swing away! I love it!
And mommy! You didn't even mention the best part - a sunporch pizza afterparty!
It's been awhile since I've had a week like this. Physical and emotional highs and lows, logistical challenges of being a working mom, and being spread so thin that I don't know if I'm coming or going.
And yet, here it is Friday afternoon and I'm still breathing.
I began the week feeling on top of the world. Completed the Broad Street run just 3 minutes slower than I did 7 years ago (and just two minutes behind hubs) while coming off of a bad case of strep throat that had me chilled and fevered and in bed just 5 days prior. I was so proud and ready to buckle down and take care of things - get caught up at work, gather gifts for teacher appreciation week, finish planning and booking various summer events, get the house cleaned, and just wipe off a lot of the old to do list. I was craving that feeling where everything was done and I could enjoy a beer on the sun porch while watching the fox whose den is in our backyard play with its kits - we've counted at least 5 playing so far.
Such a relaxing little fantasy.
Then this week smacked me in the face. Of course, it's hubs quarter close at work so he's been working past midnight every night since Monday, leaving me to deal with this stuff mostly on my own.
First, the Lobster woke up on Tuesday with a fever hovering just under 101, the threshold at which school calls you up and sends the kids home. I had a client meeting out of the office, so there was no option to take her with me or work from home. Hubs and I argued back and forth about what to do with her when we decided to do what other working parents with no other options did - pump her full of Tylenol and send her off to school. This would keep her fever down long enough so I could get through my morning meeting and get to her when I got the call to come get her.
Only the call never came, so I just kept on working. By the time I picked up the Lobster that evening, her fever was at 102 and my mommy guilt was at an all time high. Why didn't they call me? How did they not even NOTICE that she had a fever? How could I leave her at school knowing she had a fever? I didn't know which part I felt worse about. The only saving grace was that despite being flushed and having a temp, she acted like nothing was wrong.
The next morning her fever was higher and we went through the same song and dance - I would take her to work with me provided hubs picked her up at my work so I could attend my meeting and I'd come back and grab her after that. I took her to the doctor first thing because she was complaining Mommy, my ear wax in my right ear hurts. (yes, somehow when we weren't looking the Little Lobster roll has learned her left from right). Somebody was on our side when we got to the doctor because he proclaimed her infection-free and said the fever is just a result of a bad cold. Guiltily, I asked if I can have a note saying she's ok to go to school, a stark contrast from most mother who would be demanding an antibiotic or something else to make their child feel better. So off I brought her to school, where the teachers were surprised to see her after hubs told them she was sick, and off I went to work, out to my meetings, and to the store on the way back to daycare to get the aforementioned teacher appreciation gifts.
Thursday, off the kids went to school again with the gifts and some personalized cards in hand (the Lobster still with a fever, but at this point I just needed her to make it through the day). This time, we had a scheduled ophthalmologist appointment for Gobbles so I worked in the morning and came back to grab him just after lunch so we could head down to Wilmington. I thought nothing of this appointment on the approach because it was just a second opinion with a retina specialist recommended by Gobbles' regular pediatric eye doctor after we had a detached retina scare a few months ago.
Just another eye exam I figured, as my son played in the waiting room with an old set of legos, younger than the average patient by at least 70 years, charming every nurse and receptionist because kids are just so rare in their office.
After nearly 3 hours of waiting, testing, dilating, more waiting, and finally some poking and prodding, the doctor congratulated Gobbles on a job well done while his tech rewarded him with peanut butter crackers. My boy sat there crunching on his snack as I tried to comprehend the words that we've heard again and again. Sticklers' Syndrome. Risk of retinal detachment. Don't keep him in a bubble but always remain educated and cautious. Everything is intact right now but it can change in an instant. Nothing the doctor said was of surprise, but for some reason it still stung to hear. I pointed out that we'd been cleared of Sticklers and he said that they only tested the three known chromosomes and with my family history of retina issues he had no doubt that we had it in some form. He said that some sports were fine, others would be weeded out by the natural selection of the fact that Gobbles' sight would preclude him from performing well. He said to talk to Gobbles' soccer coach about headers, because they're a no-go. I pointed out that I still play soccer and have been heading the ball for 34 years and have had nothing happen, he responded with the obvious that Gobbles case is much more severe than mine.
The worst part came when the doctor answered the one question that no one has been able to. What is going to happen when my boy hits puberty and his eyes go through all that growth and development? Will he be able to correct to 20/20? Will he be able to drive? His answer was anecdotal because he had no crystal ball he told me. Well, I know a man whose prescription got into the minus 20s. He's around 50 now. He cannot drive any more and he cannot work. He used to work at Sears.
And that's when I stopped listening. I can't with this. The stupid everyday stuff I'd been worrying about all week flew out the window in that moment. Because really? All I give a shit about now is whether Gobbles will be allowed to be a normal kid and play the sports he wants despite restrictions or is the coach gonna be some dick If you don't head the ball you don't play on my team, if he'll be able to sit in class and see the board or if he'll be ostracized being in the front of the classroom all the time, if he'll be able to perform the functions he needs to succeed in his career, which isn't going to be at fucking Sears.
I waited 4 days to hit publish on this post because, really this isn't something to dwell on because there is nothing we can do at the moment. And really, the rest of the weekend turned out great with mothers' day activities and playdates and fun. But, I am going to post it, because even behind the fun and happiness we experience every day as a family, this is the shadow in the back of my mind just sitting and waiting, occasionally catching me off guard until I right myself back to the moment...
A few weeks ago I drove Gobbles to his last soccer game of the season, in sub-40 degree weather. Are you excited for your last game, buddy? I asked.
No! was his reply. I don't want this to be my last game, I want at least three or four more!
Hearing this, I felt bad for him, but part of me elated that he found something he loves to do, at least for now. And I was even more proud that it's a hobby in which I still partake. I assured him that he could play next season and that I would play with him any time he wanted.
Now, I'm not trying to put him on a pedestal or create unreachable expectations for the future -I'm certainly not one of those moms who will live out my sports glory through my children, like I said before, I still play for myself- but my son is good. At least in his peer group. There was one kid on the team, a second child with an older brother, who was a complete phenom - scoring goal after goal and dribbling up the field with coordination that I could only dream of. But, my Gobbles was the next one to control the ball. He had at least 1 goal every game, sometimes 2, plus a few steals and runs down the field.
Each time he came out of the swarm of kids dribbling the ball towards the net, we cheered and clapped like it was a game-winner. And the joy on his face as his coach gave him a high five was enough to make my weekend.
We started out the season not even being able to get him to wear his sports goggles (as required by his eye doctor), and we feared he would be behind with the limited peripheral vision they allow due to the magnitude of the prescription. It didn't seem to matter, as our boy found a way. On a team of kids he didn't know, most of whose parents were friendly with each other already, my guy made a little name for himself, and I couldn't be prouder.
The first day of soccer - kid doesn't even know what he's getting into!
Sure - we'll let the lobster in the picture...
First time dribbling
Just takin' a break!
Any closer to the coach and you're sitting on top of him!
All right!
Last game of the season... it's a little chilly for soccer.
Good thing i can play without taking my hands out of my pockets!
Mommy brought her good camera today to get me in the action!
Move over, Gobbles is comin' through!
Wow my legs are pasty!
Hey look - a plane!
i have no problem shoving a girl...
Here we go!
Hi, Mom!
And THAT's how it's done. Yup - daddy had the camera at this point and didn't get a picture of me actually scoring...
