In just one short week, my baby boy will be six years old. How we've gotten here so fast, I don't know.
My little man has had a great year with being five. He started Kindergarten (which is almost over!), learned to ride without training wheels, and moved from a three-wheel scooter to two wheels. He still has all his baby teeth and has managed to outgrow the majority of his winter clothes.
Jake will get a big surprise on his birthday (hint: he will no longer need to play basketball in the house) and we are taking him on a secret trip to set sail on a real Pirate Adventure.
In other news, Kyla had her second appointment with Dr. G last week but left the office untouched. She was highly upset with the thought of sitting in the chair for dental work so he decided to try again at another time. I was hoping for a sedative to get her through the cosmetic work but her Pediatrician will not prescribe anything for her. *sigh* I am going to give her Benadryl this evening to see if that makes her tired and try an internet search for a natural remedy that will soothe her. Her Dentist suggested leaving her teeth the way they are for a few months to let her mature a little, however, she hit her mouth today and, because her teeth are sharp, put a small hole in her lip. He then suggested we get back into the office next week. This time, I will sit in the chair with her and hold her in an attempt to keep her calm.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Whole Tooth And Nothing But The Tooth
Yesterday started as an ordinary day. Jake was on his first day of break and, with the neighboring county still in school, we had planned to go to the library. Lunch had been served, bellies were full, and the dogs were going out one more time before we left. Our departure time was in five minutes when I heard Kyla scream and start to cry. I turned around to see her walking toward me with her hands over her mouth and shards of teeth on her face.
I had no time to think, no time to panic, yet my hands found time to shake. I scooped her up and looked into her mouth. Her top two teeth were chipped badly. I grabbed a Boo-Boo Buddy and she held it to her mouth to help with the pain. Almost immediately, the call went in to her Dentist. The time was 12:05; The office was at lunch. I left a message and called my Dentist who could see her at 3:30. By 1pm, her Dentist had called back and moved things around to fit her in at 3:30. Only two and a half hours to go.
Dr. G met her in the waiting room to take a quick look. He then escorted us to the room, put a camera in her mouth, and assessed the damage. I was hopeful up to this point until he opened his mouth to tell me how bad it was. What I heard next was, "Blah, blah, blah..." as my head felt light and my extremities started to tingle. I slowly lowered myself to the floor (since there was not an extra chair in the already overcrowded room). I know it seems silly to think I almost passed out but not having anything to eat or drink for four hours coupled with the emotions of dealing with my first emergency took a toll on me.
Once I regained my composure and stopped my hands from shaking, I was able to comprehend a little more. Most of what he said I could not absorb. I still don't understand everything but I've got the gist of it. Her left tooth was so badly damaged that the only way to save the tooth was with a root canal which was not an option for her. Her root system is not completely developed and, therefore, cannot be fixed. My greatest fear, in this particular situation, was going to come true - she was going to lose the tooth.
Kyla was being a great patient so far. They put numbing gel on her gum and gave her a local anesthetic. The hygienist was holding her hand trying to comfort her the best she could. Dr. G began to work on the broken tooth. About fifty minutes into the procedure, Kyla lost her ability to stay calm. Her emotions were so out of control they gave her a ten minute break so I could calm her down. My efforts failed. She was crying uncontrollably and couldn't focus on me. Her eyes were blank. There was no answer to a yes or no question. No squeezing my hand. She went back to the chair so he could finish what had to be done to the broken tooth. With her adrenaline pumping, the anesthetic was going through her faster now. After a total of an hour and a half, he had removed the tissue (basically killing the tooth sooner rather than later) and packed the hole with the tiniest bit of cotton.
Her teeth are still ragged and sharp. Her left tooth has already turned gray. Her next appointment, on Wednesday, will include sealing the tooth and bonding it. He will file and possibly bond the right tooth as well. This is his one attempt at trying to keep the dead tooth in her mouth for more than six months. He did, however, tell me to expect for the tooth to be pulled in a few months. Apparently, missing a tooth puts her as a prime candidate for orthodontics later because there's no telling how the permanent tooth will come in.
Kyla slept for the entire ride home and an additional hour on the couch. She remained on pain reliever for the rest of the night and today. Her diet is soft, bite sized pieces of food at room temperature. She is drinking fluids through a straw and they need to be slightly warmer than room temperature. She inhaled three pieces of bread and butter last night plus a soft cookie, diced. Then, she was back to her daredevil self.
I always knew Kyla would be my 'emergency child'. I expected something like this from a bike accident, not a fall on the tile floor. She has been running around the house as if nothing happened. My nerves are still on edge. Through her ordeal, I have remained thankful that my spunky little girl is still here in one piece. Her smile may not be the same, and in a few months it will change again, but I will love her new smile just the same....I hope.
I, on the other hand, am not the same. I'm completely paranoid of another fall resulting in trauma. I know kids will be kids and need to be kids but the wound is very much open for me right now. Hearing her cry over something sends my blood pressure through the roof not sure of what I will find when I go to her. Time will heal this as well and I will loosen the reigns once again.
Oh, I nearly forgot to add that the Tooth Fairy made her first stop to our house. I told Kyla since she was in the Dentist's chair getting work done she would get a visit that night. Our very generous Fairy gave something to Jake as well since he was in the office and went through the day being supportive. Both kids are tickled pink with their new Monster Trucks. ;)
Seeing pictures of her beautiful smile makes me feel a little sad...
Before we left for the Dentist (her teeth used to touch)
The damage on the back of the tooth (and where Dr. G spent his time)
Conked out
Enjoying a cookie
I had no time to think, no time to panic, yet my hands found time to shake. I scooped her up and looked into her mouth. Her top two teeth were chipped badly. I grabbed a Boo-Boo Buddy and she held it to her mouth to help with the pain. Almost immediately, the call went in to her Dentist. The time was 12:05; The office was at lunch. I left a message and called my Dentist who could see her at 3:30. By 1pm, her Dentist had called back and moved things around to fit her in at 3:30. Only two and a half hours to go.
Dr. G met her in the waiting room to take a quick look. He then escorted us to the room, put a camera in her mouth, and assessed the damage. I was hopeful up to this point until he opened his mouth to tell me how bad it was. What I heard next was, "Blah, blah, blah..." as my head felt light and my extremities started to tingle. I slowly lowered myself to the floor (since there was not an extra chair in the already overcrowded room). I know it seems silly to think I almost passed out but not having anything to eat or drink for four hours coupled with the emotions of dealing with my first emergency took a toll on me.
Once I regained my composure and stopped my hands from shaking, I was able to comprehend a little more. Most of what he said I could not absorb. I still don't understand everything but I've got the gist of it. Her left tooth was so badly damaged that the only way to save the tooth was with a root canal which was not an option for her. Her root system is not completely developed and, therefore, cannot be fixed. My greatest fear, in this particular situation, was going to come true - she was going to lose the tooth.
Kyla was being a great patient so far. They put numbing gel on her gum and gave her a local anesthetic. The hygienist was holding her hand trying to comfort her the best she could. Dr. G began to work on the broken tooth. About fifty minutes into the procedure, Kyla lost her ability to stay calm. Her emotions were so out of control they gave her a ten minute break so I could calm her down. My efforts failed. She was crying uncontrollably and couldn't focus on me. Her eyes were blank. There was no answer to a yes or no question. No squeezing my hand. She went back to the chair so he could finish what had to be done to the broken tooth. With her adrenaline pumping, the anesthetic was going through her faster now. After a total of an hour and a half, he had removed the tissue (basically killing the tooth sooner rather than later) and packed the hole with the tiniest bit of cotton.
Her teeth are still ragged and sharp. Her left tooth has already turned gray. Her next appointment, on Wednesday, will include sealing the tooth and bonding it. He will file and possibly bond the right tooth as well. This is his one attempt at trying to keep the dead tooth in her mouth for more than six months. He did, however, tell me to expect for the tooth to be pulled in a few months. Apparently, missing a tooth puts her as a prime candidate for orthodontics later because there's no telling how the permanent tooth will come in.
Kyla slept for the entire ride home and an additional hour on the couch. She remained on pain reliever for the rest of the night and today. Her diet is soft, bite sized pieces of food at room temperature. She is drinking fluids through a straw and they need to be slightly warmer than room temperature. She inhaled three pieces of bread and butter last night plus a soft cookie, diced. Then, she was back to her daredevil self.
I always knew Kyla would be my 'emergency child'. I expected something like this from a bike accident, not a fall on the tile floor. She has been running around the house as if nothing happened. My nerves are still on edge. Through her ordeal, I have remained thankful that my spunky little girl is still here in one piece. Her smile may not be the same, and in a few months it will change again, but I will love her new smile just the same....I hope.
I, on the other hand, am not the same. I'm completely paranoid of another fall resulting in trauma. I know kids will be kids and need to be kids but the wound is very much open for me right now. Hearing her cry over something sends my blood pressure through the roof not sure of what I will find when I go to her. Time will heal this as well and I will loosen the reigns once again.
Oh, I nearly forgot to add that the Tooth Fairy made her first stop to our house. I told Kyla since she was in the Dentist's chair getting work done she would get a visit that night. Our very generous Fairy gave something to Jake as well since he was in the office and went through the day being supportive. Both kids are tickled pink with their new Monster Trucks. ;)
Seeing pictures of her beautiful smile makes me feel a little sad...
Before we left for the Dentist (her teeth used to touch)
In the chair and holding Miss Amy's hand
The damage on the back of the tooth (and where Dr. G spent his time)
Conked out
Enjoying a cookie
Friday, February 25, 2011
We Could All Use A Little Puddin'
As a mom whose oldest child is five, I'm continuing to learn that some traits are ingrained and there is no amount of anything that will change it. I believe it's only natural to want more for our children and when some of our less desirable attributes shine through on our offspring, it can be more than a little frustrating.
Anyone who knows my son knows he is a sensitive soul. There is no one other than myself to thank for that one. I can remember holding onto my mother's leg for safety, crying at the slightest separation, feeling anxious when encountered with change, and being very shy. I still feel anxious and shy in certain situations but I've also learned to fake the confidence when necessary. I didn't separate well until I was in my twenties....yes, my twenties. My mother gave me the ultimatum at 21 to go to school full time or work full time but part time at each wasn't going to cut it for her anymore. I chose to go away and cried like a baby when my mother left me at college. It was those particular qualities I did not want to see in my own kids.
I do agree that many of us unwillingly pass things to our children. Being aware of this, I am conscientious of my behaviors in front of my kids. I do not run away screaming from bugs and insects, despite the fact that I do not care for the fluttery flight of butterflies. I have pet a snake, tarantula, and giant cockroach, and even saved a few mice in the house. I will try new foods, say hello and smile to everyone, and attempt to talk to someone in the same situation as me so my kids can see how to make the best of an acquaintance. I welcome the opportunity to experience new things so it can be a time for learning with my children. Because of my extra consideration, I take it very personally when it is suggested that my children learned how to react unfavorably by watching me. Those types of comments will unleash the mother bear in me.
I've often referred to Jacob as a puddin'. I have never said it in front of him or another child; It's been brought up in conversation amongst my own friends and family. My term for him is not meant to be derogatory but rather to simply put his sensitivity into one word. Knowing how much I suffered from being sensitive, I felt like I had to come up with a way to fix this. I've tried explanations, tough love, the dreaded comparisons (which I know are wrong), and I've even attempted to let Randy 'handle' the situation. The truth is, Jacob is who he is and, in my road to the acceptance of things I cannot change, I'm coming to terms with it not being a negative trait but instead being one that should be embraced.
Yes, I have a hard time not feeling flustered when he cries over a minor trip to the floor, climbs the walls when it's time for a needle, screams like he's broken when he sees a drop of blood, shakes at the mere thought of a Band-Aid, and, overall, makes a big deal out of the slightest bump he may take. It especially wears on me when he acts like that while his younger sister can fall with such intensity to cause her to slide across the terrain, skin her knee, or get scratched by the cat with nothing more than a stunned look on her face followed by a giggle. I've commented to myself more than once that I'm glad a certain fall happened to her and not him. I've even begun to dread the time when his first tooth is loose. It may very well be Kyla who pulls his tooth out. But let's not jump ahead; I'm madly in love with Jacob's baby toothed grin.
On Valentine's Day, a day both kids were very excited about, Jake witnessed something upsetting to him and may remember it for quite some time, though I don't talk about it unless he brings it up. He was on the bus coming home from school and there was a four-vehicle accident on the other side of the street. The bus driver had her window open and Jake sits behind her so he had a front row seat to the destruction as well as overhearing what was going on out there. The accident was bad enough for a helicoptor to come take the responsible driver away. He got off the bus fifteen minutes later than usual, shaky and in tears. He was out of sorts for a couple of hours, requested to sit with me and didn't take kindly to me leaving him for any length of time. We discussed the situation as soon as he was ready and he felt much better. Unfortunately, I endured criticism in response to his reaction. The next day, I spoke with his Guidance Counselor who helped me see things in a different light. He said he doesn't see enough sensitive children and that crying is a good thing, a coping mechanism. He would worry more about the kids who showed no emotion and spoke not a word. He commended Jacob for being able to cry and reminded me that this is, in fact, how he deals and attempts to overcome.
In addition to being sensitive, Jacob is also concerned for the feelings of others and seems to be aware of emotional changes in those around him. He is steadily overcoming his shyness and I can see his attempts at holding himself together knowing his sister wouldn't have cried over 'that'. He likes to say he is tough though I know his "toughness" is very thin and just beyond that layer is my favorite puddin'. He is much braver than I ever was and is already a hero in my eyes.
As a fairly new parent, I am a work in progress. I am lending effort to accepting what is beyond my control and will continue to revel in the steps my son takes, even though they may seem insignificant to others. I will cherish his vulnerabilites and know being sensitive is not a weakness. I may roll my eyes now at how easily the puddin' in him comes out but, someday, I will witness him shed a tear at his wedding and cry as he holds his new baby and know how lucky his mate is to have such a wonderful soul in my baby boy.
Anyone who knows my son knows he is a sensitive soul. There is no one other than myself to thank for that one. I can remember holding onto my mother's leg for safety, crying at the slightest separation, feeling anxious when encountered with change, and being very shy. I still feel anxious and shy in certain situations but I've also learned to fake the confidence when necessary. I didn't separate well until I was in my twenties....yes, my twenties. My mother gave me the ultimatum at 21 to go to school full time or work full time but part time at each wasn't going to cut it for her anymore. I chose to go away and cried like a baby when my mother left me at college. It was those particular qualities I did not want to see in my own kids.
I do agree that many of us unwillingly pass things to our children. Being aware of this, I am conscientious of my behaviors in front of my kids. I do not run away screaming from bugs and insects, despite the fact that I do not care for the fluttery flight of butterflies. I have pet a snake, tarantula, and giant cockroach, and even saved a few mice in the house. I will try new foods, say hello and smile to everyone, and attempt to talk to someone in the same situation as me so my kids can see how to make the best of an acquaintance. I welcome the opportunity to experience new things so it can be a time for learning with my children. Because of my extra consideration, I take it very personally when it is suggested that my children learned how to react unfavorably by watching me. Those types of comments will unleash the mother bear in me.
I've often referred to Jacob as a puddin'. I have never said it in front of him or another child; It's been brought up in conversation amongst my own friends and family. My term for him is not meant to be derogatory but rather to simply put his sensitivity into one word. Knowing how much I suffered from being sensitive, I felt like I had to come up with a way to fix this. I've tried explanations, tough love, the dreaded comparisons (which I know are wrong), and I've even attempted to let Randy 'handle' the situation. The truth is, Jacob is who he is and, in my road to the acceptance of things I cannot change, I'm coming to terms with it not being a negative trait but instead being one that should be embraced.
Yes, I have a hard time not feeling flustered when he cries over a minor trip to the floor, climbs the walls when it's time for a needle, screams like he's broken when he sees a drop of blood, shakes at the mere thought of a Band-Aid, and, overall, makes a big deal out of the slightest bump he may take. It especially wears on me when he acts like that while his younger sister can fall with such intensity to cause her to slide across the terrain, skin her knee, or get scratched by the cat with nothing more than a stunned look on her face followed by a giggle. I've commented to myself more than once that I'm glad a certain fall happened to her and not him. I've even begun to dread the time when his first tooth is loose. It may very well be Kyla who pulls his tooth out. But let's not jump ahead; I'm madly in love with Jacob's baby toothed grin.
On Valentine's Day, a day both kids were very excited about, Jake witnessed something upsetting to him and may remember it for quite some time, though I don't talk about it unless he brings it up. He was on the bus coming home from school and there was a four-vehicle accident on the other side of the street. The bus driver had her window open and Jake sits behind her so he had a front row seat to the destruction as well as overhearing what was going on out there. The accident was bad enough for a helicoptor to come take the responsible driver away. He got off the bus fifteen minutes later than usual, shaky and in tears. He was out of sorts for a couple of hours, requested to sit with me and didn't take kindly to me leaving him for any length of time. We discussed the situation as soon as he was ready and he felt much better. Unfortunately, I endured criticism in response to his reaction. The next day, I spoke with his Guidance Counselor who helped me see things in a different light. He said he doesn't see enough sensitive children and that crying is a good thing, a coping mechanism. He would worry more about the kids who showed no emotion and spoke not a word. He commended Jacob for being able to cry and reminded me that this is, in fact, how he deals and attempts to overcome.
In addition to being sensitive, Jacob is also concerned for the feelings of others and seems to be aware of emotional changes in those around him. He is steadily overcoming his shyness and I can see his attempts at holding himself together knowing his sister wouldn't have cried over 'that'. He likes to say he is tough though I know his "toughness" is very thin and just beyond that layer is my favorite puddin'. He is much braver than I ever was and is already a hero in my eyes.
As a fairly new parent, I am a work in progress. I am lending effort to accepting what is beyond my control and will continue to revel in the steps my son takes, even though they may seem insignificant to others. I will cherish his vulnerabilites and know being sensitive is not a weakness. I may roll my eyes now at how easily the puddin' in him comes out but, someday, I will witness him shed a tear at his wedding and cry as he holds his new baby and know how lucky his mate is to have such a wonderful soul in my baby boy.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
What's the blog idea?
Blog idea? Big idea? A genuine great idea? It's all the same thing.
I hadn't planned on starting a blog. I was searching for an online diary in which I could jot down a few things we did in the month in addition to anything noteworthy coming out of the mouths of babes. What I did find was online diaries with no back up option which meant if the server went down, so would my diary. I didn't intend to share anything with anyone but rather collect memories for my future. Once I read my diary entries could be gone, I looked for the next best thing.
A few of my friends are blogging but jumping on the bandwagon was not on my mind. I mean, what would I write about and who would want to read it? One friend has a child Kyla's age plus 9 month old twins. I love reading her posts because I can't imagine life with twins. I can see why her blog would be popular. Another friend moved to Guam and started a blog to keep her Stateside friends and family updated with their life on the island. I also love this blog. Her experiences are incredible and she is also a mother of two. Another blog with definite popularity. I am a stay at home mom of two and can only blog about what is happening here on the homefront...not always interesting.
Regardless of how much I have to talk about, I started the blog with one intention: capture moments for the future. The days are flying by. My kids are growing up fast. If I don't write down what happened, I can't expect to remember when they are grown. The blog is not about who reads it, it's all for me (though I would like to have a few more followers). ;D
I have heard a few other friends and family mention they would like to start a blog. To these people, I say what are you waiting for? Challenge yourself. Take time out of your busy schedules to write down what's important to you. The benefits of a blog are multifaceted. First, it's a keepsake. It also happens to be therapeutic. It gives you time to yourself with your thoughts and feelings. And, someone might learn something from your posts. Aren't we all looking to connect with someone on some level? You might be surprised by how much you love the thought process.
I still have a lot to learn about this site. I have to figure out how to put pictures on but it all takes time. Time is not something in abundance right now. Either way, I am glad I have taken the initiative to put words on the screen. I have always enjoyed writing and this is my way, if only once a month, to do something that reconnects me with myself.
My final words: Get started and blog on!
I hadn't planned on starting a blog. I was searching for an online diary in which I could jot down a few things we did in the month in addition to anything noteworthy coming out of the mouths of babes. What I did find was online diaries with no back up option which meant if the server went down, so would my diary. I didn't intend to share anything with anyone but rather collect memories for my future. Once I read my diary entries could be gone, I looked for the next best thing.
A few of my friends are blogging but jumping on the bandwagon was not on my mind. I mean, what would I write about and who would want to read it? One friend has a child Kyla's age plus 9 month old twins. I love reading her posts because I can't imagine life with twins. I can see why her blog would be popular. Another friend moved to Guam and started a blog to keep her Stateside friends and family updated with their life on the island. I also love this blog. Her experiences are incredible and she is also a mother of two. Another blog with definite popularity. I am a stay at home mom of two and can only blog about what is happening here on the homefront...not always interesting.
Regardless of how much I have to talk about, I started the blog with one intention: capture moments for the future. The days are flying by. My kids are growing up fast. If I don't write down what happened, I can't expect to remember when they are grown. The blog is not about who reads it, it's all for me (though I would like to have a few more followers). ;D
I have heard a few other friends and family mention they would like to start a blog. To these people, I say what are you waiting for? Challenge yourself. Take time out of your busy schedules to write down what's important to you. The benefits of a blog are multifaceted. First, it's a keepsake. It also happens to be therapeutic. It gives you time to yourself with your thoughts and feelings. And, someone might learn something from your posts. Aren't we all looking to connect with someone on some level? You might be surprised by how much you love the thought process.
I still have a lot to learn about this site. I have to figure out how to put pictures on but it all takes time. Time is not something in abundance right now. Either way, I am glad I have taken the initiative to put words on the screen. I have always enjoyed writing and this is my way, if only once a month, to do something that reconnects me with myself.
My final words: Get started and blog on!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Out with the old...WAIT, that's mine!
Happy New Year to you all. The hustle and bustle of the Holidays is finally at an end. Now, I am living in the whirlwind of cleaning up and shipping out.
For Christmas, I shopped with purpose. Not only would the kids love their new toys but I didn't buy anything that had no place to go. Several times during our shopping trips, Randy would persist that a certain toy would be so cool and each child would love it. I had to put my foot down long enough to stress that I have no place for that toy. I wish I would have thought about shopping like that for the past few Christmases.
Santa delayed his trip to our house since Randy worked on Christmas. The kids were none the wiser. We adjusted the Advent calendar accordingly and things were running A-OK until Jake was dismissed from school on the 23rd only to inform me that "so and so" said Christmas was in two days. Hmmm, another quick thinking moment for me. "Yes, most people are celebrating Christmas in two days but I put a special call in for Santa to come when we can all be together." No more questions came up and we had extra time to prepare, which I so desperately needed.
Santa dumped his entire sleigh around our tree and the overflow came on Tuesday with extended family arriving to celebrate the season with us. Those gifts were the ones I wasn't prepared for. Those wonderful gifts are still looking for a permanent spot in our "busting at the seams" home. I am happy to report they will all find a great place this weekend (only to be pulled out and left on the floor, I'm sure).
However, in order to put everything away, I have the daunting task of going through old toys and getting them ready for a trip to the shelter. There's always this magical moment of feeling like I'm getting somewhere, sorting through the clutter and staying far away from becoming a hoarder, only to have this feeling squashed by two little people digging through the box exclaiming, "Hey, wait, that's mine! I've been looking for that!". Toys find their way out of the box and back to a basket that is once again spilling over with toys. Attempt number one: fail.
In the weeks ahead, I WILL get the toys back to the box and out the door. Some toys I am unable to part with. Just when I pick something up, I think about the Island of Misfit Toys, who would love to have a home, or Buzz and Woody, who are at wit's end when they are separated from Andy, and I put the toy back. Yes, I know they don't come alive at night but I can't bear giving away toys that have some sort of emotional attachment on my child's end. Perhaps when Jake and Kyla are in high school and rarely home they will say, "Mom, why do you still have this old thing?" By that point, it will be me who can't part with it because the emotional attachment will be too much...for these things used to belong to my babies.
For Christmas, I shopped with purpose. Not only would the kids love their new toys but I didn't buy anything that had no place to go. Several times during our shopping trips, Randy would persist that a certain toy would be so cool and each child would love it. I had to put my foot down long enough to stress that I have no place for that toy. I wish I would have thought about shopping like that for the past few Christmases.
Santa delayed his trip to our house since Randy worked on Christmas. The kids were none the wiser. We adjusted the Advent calendar accordingly and things were running A-OK until Jake was dismissed from school on the 23rd only to inform me that "so and so" said Christmas was in two days. Hmmm, another quick thinking moment for me. "Yes, most people are celebrating Christmas in two days but I put a special call in for Santa to come when we can all be together." No more questions came up and we had extra time to prepare, which I so desperately needed.
Santa dumped his entire sleigh around our tree and the overflow came on Tuesday with extended family arriving to celebrate the season with us. Those gifts were the ones I wasn't prepared for. Those wonderful gifts are still looking for a permanent spot in our "busting at the seams" home. I am happy to report they will all find a great place this weekend (only to be pulled out and left on the floor, I'm sure).
However, in order to put everything away, I have the daunting task of going through old toys and getting them ready for a trip to the shelter. There's always this magical moment of feeling like I'm getting somewhere, sorting through the clutter and staying far away from becoming a hoarder, only to have this feeling squashed by two little people digging through the box exclaiming, "Hey, wait, that's mine! I've been looking for that!". Toys find their way out of the box and back to a basket that is once again spilling over with toys. Attempt number one: fail.
In the weeks ahead, I WILL get the toys back to the box and out the door. Some toys I am unable to part with. Just when I pick something up, I think about the Island of Misfit Toys, who would love to have a home, or Buzz and Woody, who are at wit's end when they are separated from Andy, and I put the toy back. Yes, I know they don't come alive at night but I can't bear giving away toys that have some sort of emotional attachment on my child's end. Perhaps when Jake and Kyla are in high school and rarely home they will say, "Mom, why do you still have this old thing?" By that point, it will be me who can't part with it because the emotional attachment will be too much...for these things used to belong to my babies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)