Ask me how to strap a giant whale to my minivan and drive 1600 miles home with it! I'll tell you how. Ask me to define the word sharing. It's different than what you might expect. Ask me how to get your child to learn there's more to life than pb&j. Wait, don't ask me that. Ask me what it's like to have an autistic child. I'll try to help you understand. Ask me to show you my Mom of the Year award! Oops, usually I'm out of the running for that about 10 minutes after getting out of bed.
Yet, it's all good. Sure, the paycheck is lost in the mail but I still wouldn't trade this life, quirks and all. In my posts, I'm hoping you'll find humor and honesty and that you'll be able to relate to my humble acceptance of motherhood's ups, downs and in betweens.
Welcome to my world!
A Boy and His Blanket
This morning as I was making the rounds through the upstairs, straightening, making beds, putting laundry away, I came across something I hadn’t seen in awhile, something I hadn’t even thought of in awhile.
Ryan’s green blanket.
I use the word “blanket” loosely here. It actually is a very long rag-type piece of green fabric with strings hanging off any part that once might have been a corner. It’s thin as air, it smells, it hasn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in probably three years, and it was purchased by me the day before he and I first came face to face.
When Ryan was born, it took about five days before I seriously considered shipping him back to wherever he came from. I’ve heard many people describe their babies as colicky but let me make it clear that Ryan owns that term. He took colic to a whole new level. If he was awake, he was screaming. Not crying. Screaming. And he was awake probably 22 of the 24 hours that make up a day. Nothing helped and believe me I tried anything and everything. At his baptism, even the priest had had enough of him and was clever enough to suggest “one of those things that you put in his mouth and he can calm himself”.
Oh, duh, dude, you mean a PACIFIER?? Yeah, tried that. Like a million times, what do you take me for? In fact, if I could, I would HAMMER THE FREAKING THING INTO HIS MOUTH AND NAIL IT TO HIS LIPS, UNDERSTAND? UNFORTUNATELY FOR ALL OF US, THE BOY DOESN’T LIKE PACIFIERS!
Obviously, the memories cause me to get more than a little tense.
His colic, which everyone assured me couldn’t possibly last more than 12 weeks, continued for at least 6 more months (and sometimes does rear its ugly head even today, seven years later). And just when I was about to look in the phone book for the best local exorcist, I noticed that his screaming was becoming less and less frequent and he was actually turning into a great little napper.
He’d found “one of those things you put in his mouth and he can calm himself”. Except it wasn’t a pacifier, it was his thumb and whenever he sucked his thumb, he needed a little side dish of green blankie.
For the next six and a half years (yes, you read that right), Ryan, The Thumb, and The Blanket comforted each other when life got rough. I laugh to myself right now and shake my head at the places I’ve allowed that blanket to go. A petting zoo comes to mind. So does an apple orchard. Like Linus from The Peanuts, growing older and wiser didn’t give Ryan any reason do disown his two best buddies and I have to be honest, I didn’t really push the issue. Both Ryan and I were comfortable enough with his place in this world to not care who knew that he was a thumb sucker and a blankie carrier. In fact, sometimes his friends would find his blanket out in the ‘hood somewhere and return it to him without question, comment or sneer. It was as much a part of him as his hair.
This past January, right before Ryan turned 7, he developed a weird mystery illness that caused a high fever and exhaustion. When it seemed to be a bit more than the usual winter diseases that sweep through a house of school aged children, I took him to the doctor and was told that it was a serious bacterial throat infection, that his levels were worrisome (I didn’t really know what that meant, but it meant something bad), and that if things didn’t improve in a few days, maybe a hospital would be a better place for him.
By the way, the doctor said, this type of infection is very common when there is an open sore in the mouth and the child then puts a hand or contaminated object in the mouth…
The doctor was trying to reassure me that as ominous as her first words were, this condition is actually very treatable and common for thumb suckers!
Of course, she didn’t say it was because he sucked his thumb. It wasn’t even discussed. But in my mind at that moment, being someone who is (occasionally) prone to overreaction and irrational thoughts, I’d just heard her say that Ryan shouldn’t suck his thumb anymore because he might die from an infection.
Did I mention that (occasionally) I overreact?
Obviously Ryan didn’t die from his illness, and he didn’t even have to go to the hospital. I, however, had seen the light and seized the opportunity to cure a habit that should have ended five years ago. I told Ryan he had to stop sucking his thumb. Today. Or he might die.
Did I mention that I (occasionally) have no problem using drama for effect?
Cold turkey, Ryan let go of his thumb addiction and with that went the need for the green blankie, the “green beeba” as it had been called since he could talk. Saying goodbye to his old friends wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be for him. It was almost as if he had suspected all along and was just waiting for a sign to tell him it was time to let go.
So here I stand with the the remnants of seven years of Ryan in my hands and memories of a time when I wasn’t sure I’d ever have a bond with this screaming, nocturnal, high strung baby. I realize, of course, how wrong I was. I also am amazed that holding this blanket makes a small part of me want to go back to that time, as difficult as it was. How did he get from zero to seven so fast?
So while Ryan has given up his precious green beeba, I, myself, will just hold on to it a little bit longer.
Like for the rest of my life.
Oh, this post touched my heart deeply. *My* colic-y son also took to his thumb and his baba for many years.
His baba were a set of pillowcases with characters on them – I had a regular rotation early on, after I had to replace the original one through eBay.
For us, it was a trip to the dentist and 3 cavities that were the catalyst for him to quit sucking his thumb.
Not as dramatic as death, but effective all the same. He stopped easily 2 months before he turned 6.
Yes, I still have the babas.
Comment by Maida — May 4, 2009 @ 9:56 amHi, my name is Shanyn and I love my Mimi. Oh, and I’ll be 33 in a little over a month. :)
I STILL sleep with my Mimi that I’ve had since I was very, very little. And I won’t give it up until it literally disintegrates.
This story brought tears to my eyes..thank you for sharing it…
Comment by Shanyn — May 4, 2009 @ 10:22 amI feel ya. Silvia is a thumb sucker with a little side of Dolly. The Dolly is not for cuddling, though, not when she’s on the thumb. She turns it upside down and backwards and half sticks the tag in her mouth while her free hand strokes and caresses the other half. the tag is becoming transparent and starting to tatter.
I’m amazed you just told him to stop and he did! Hey, if drama works, then use it freely, I say.
Are you going to wash it before you snuggle it in your memory stash? :)
Comment by Megan — May 4, 2009 @ 10:33 amMegan, the worst is that after giving it a more thorough once-over, I noticed some blood splatters. Ick. I don’t know if the thing would survive a wash, though!
Comment by Hillary — May 11, 2009 @ 4:54 pmI have friends who are also in their 30s and still have their best buddies with them. How they made it that long is beyond me. Ryan’s poor 7 year old blanket would probably turn to dust if I blew on it.
Comment by Hillary — May 11, 2009 @ 4:55 pmWhat a cute picture and look how happy he is! My youngest, Adam, also has a “baby” that he totes around and it was lost once for 48 hours. I found a replica at the local Babies R Us and then his original was found (and he can tell the two apart) but I learned my lesson and started checking out Ebay so I could have an emergency stash. I finally came to my senses when I realized I was bidding like $30 for one. Ah, what we do to keep them happy.
Comment by Hillary — May 11, 2009 @ 4:57 pmI have a letter from a Holiday Inn written to my mother in 19….well, lets just say it was a while ago.
Comment by Tiffany — May 13, 2009 @ 4:09 pmIt goes something like this: Dear Mrs. Schmid, We are very sorry to inform you that the maid who cleaned your room does, indeed, remember seeing your daughter’s pink blanket, but, as it was not recognizable as such, thought it was an old rag and threw it out with the trash. Please express our apologies to your daughter.
The Holiday Inn
That story actually makes me sad. My oldest is only 3 (with 3 others not far behind) and he is growing up so quickly (double finger sucker and passionate owner of a “soft blue blanket”). He’s already started his detachment from sheepie and before I know it he’ll be embarrassed to be seen with us, won’t want to hug or kiss us, and will want to spend all of his time with his friends instead of us. So many tradeoffs as they get older.
Comment by CTB — June 6, 2009 @ 11:26 am