My daughter is currently battling a terribly stuffy nose, drainage, and coughing. Her little pug nose is red from all the wiping. My son has a stye on his left eye which has been there for more than 2 weeks, and now he has a painful and swollen lymph node under his left ear. It is, no doubt, caused by the stye.
Anyway, this brief blog entry is just a way to vent about the feelings I have when my kids are sick. There are many problems with the illness of my children.
First of all, it breaks my heart when they don't sleep well. Tack on being tired to feeling miserable and you've got a lousy situation. I want so bad to fix their pains and discomforts, but I cannot. Sure, I take them to the doctor and get some medicine when necessary. But the medicine doesn't fix everything, and it certainly doesn't fix it right away. I just want to hold my sickly kids and rub their ills away!
Of course, here I am blabbing on and on about the common cold and a silly, little stye. I should be thankful that's all that's wrong with them. The certainly aren't taking trips to the hospital or battling Leukemia. God bless those families who are in those fights.
But, while I'm sounding like a spoiled little boy, let me cap it off with one other pain in my "arse." I hate having to miss work when my kids are sick! I'm a teacher, and when I miss work I just get so behind... grading backs up, my initial plans get out of whack... blah, blah, blah!
I think I'll go hug my little ones. They're not in the hospital, and they will be fine. I just felt like whining.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
The Growing Season
My son turns 12 years old tomorrow, Feb. 4. When he was just a baby, even before he was toddling around, I would day dream about when he was older. What would he be like? Who would he be? What kind of person would he be? What would my relationship with him look like? What would it be like to hear him call me "Daddy?" How tall would he be? How would he be doing in school? What would it be like to play with him? What would it be like to talk to him, and what would our conversations be like? These questions, and a plethora of others, would course through my mind constantly.
For some reason, I always picked age 12 as the age when I would imagine the answers to these questions arriving. Most often, I would imagine my 12 year old son walking up to me and talking. I think I picked 12 because it seemed like a lifetime into the future, and it would be before his teen years where all bets are off regarding his personality and our relationship. A lifetime away.
And here we are. My son is 12 years old, and I have all of the answers to those questions. At least for now! It is unimaginable how 12 years have passed! How could it be? I remember the day he was born so vividly: the weather, the hospital, the room in which he was born, the visitors to see the new baby... everything! I can't remember what I did yesterday, but my memory of that day 12 years ago is crystal clear.
And the next 12 years? Will it pass just as quickly? Oh, my goodness, he will be 24 years old tomorrow! Just yesterday he was being born, and tomorrow he will be graduating college (or so I hope!). Of course, there are a kaleidoscope of questions that turn into a traffic jam in my mind regarding who he will be at 24. I'm no longer in any rush. I so desperately want to savor this time in his life, because it will dissolve in an instant.
This torrent of feelings are nothing new. Parents of every culture and creed have almost certainly experienced similar feelings and thoughts. And yet, it is as if I am the only person who has ever had them. I have never spoken to anyone about my thoughts about either of my children's growth. It just seems too trivial; obvious. And so common. It would be like discussing brushing my teeth. Why do it? Everyone brushes their teeth (at least all of the people with whom I associate). So it wouldn't make for very interesting banter. I imagine that sharing my feelings about how fast my children are growing going something like this...
Me: I brushed my teeth this morning.
Friend: Me too.
Me: I used Colgate.
Friend: I used Crest.
Fascinating! I would rather listen to the voices in my own head as to participate in that conversation. I won't do it. But, the emotions involved in my son turning 12 are powerful. I can't say that I have any emotional attachment to the brushing of my teeth.
This is where I find myself. Nothing of substance to say, emotions of epic proportions racing through my veins, and lost for how to deal with them. So, I just go about my day. I'll buy my son something that he will hopefully love for his birthday. We'll eat a birthday dinner at his favorite Japanese restaraunt. And then he will turn 24.
For some reason, I always picked age 12 as the age when I would imagine the answers to these questions arriving. Most often, I would imagine my 12 year old son walking up to me and talking. I think I picked 12 because it seemed like a lifetime into the future, and it would be before his teen years where all bets are off regarding his personality and our relationship. A lifetime away.
And here we are. My son is 12 years old, and I have all of the answers to those questions. At least for now! It is unimaginable how 12 years have passed! How could it be? I remember the day he was born so vividly: the weather, the hospital, the room in which he was born, the visitors to see the new baby... everything! I can't remember what I did yesterday, but my memory of that day 12 years ago is crystal clear.
And the next 12 years? Will it pass just as quickly? Oh, my goodness, he will be 24 years old tomorrow! Just yesterday he was being born, and tomorrow he will be graduating college (or so I hope!). Of course, there are a kaleidoscope of questions that turn into a traffic jam in my mind regarding who he will be at 24. I'm no longer in any rush. I so desperately want to savor this time in his life, because it will dissolve in an instant.
This torrent of feelings are nothing new. Parents of every culture and creed have almost certainly experienced similar feelings and thoughts. And yet, it is as if I am the only person who has ever had them. I have never spoken to anyone about my thoughts about either of my children's growth. It just seems too trivial; obvious. And so common. It would be like discussing brushing my teeth. Why do it? Everyone brushes their teeth (at least all of the people with whom I associate). So it wouldn't make for very interesting banter. I imagine that sharing my feelings about how fast my children are growing going something like this...
Me: I brushed my teeth this morning.
Friend: Me too.
Me: I used Colgate.
Friend: I used Crest.
Fascinating! I would rather listen to the voices in my own head as to participate in that conversation. I won't do it. But, the emotions involved in my son turning 12 are powerful. I can't say that I have any emotional attachment to the brushing of my teeth.
This is where I find myself. Nothing of substance to say, emotions of epic proportions racing through my veins, and lost for how to deal with them. So, I just go about my day. I'll buy my son something that he will hopefully love for his birthday. We'll eat a birthday dinner at his favorite Japanese restaraunt. And then he will turn 24.
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