Monkey See, Monkey Do

I'll admit I call my kid a monkey. He acts like one often. He climbs, he runs, he randomly dances to music no one is hearing. He's a fantastically goofy child. He's my monkey. And yes, monkey see, monkey do.

I have tried very hard not to overreact, or even react sometimes, when he falls or bonks his head. I know it's going to happen. Falling is inevitable when a child is learning to walk, run, dance, or otherwise figure out how to control his motor skills. And I know children often emulate the responses their caregivers have. So I work hard to not let out a giant, panicky gasp, run over, grab him up in my arms, and cry "Are you ok, oh my poor baby!?!" Instead, I usually try to just look at him, smile, and say, "You good?" He usually smile and laughs about it.

But on occasion, my hand will fly up to my mouth as an auto-response to prevent the previously mentioned panicky reaction. Last week, my son took a weird tumble. I cannot even begin to describe how he fell. But my hand flew up. Then I burst into laughter because as soon as he hit the deck, his hand flew to his mouth, he looked at me, smiled and started giggling. I could not believe that his response to falling was to cover his mouth!

Then today, he decided to take it a step further. He had been running around as we were playing together in the den. He came to stand by me, dropped into a seated position, and put his hand on his mouth. I thought it was pretty silly. Then he stood up again, sat down, and hand-to-mouth. He kept laughing as he repeated this pattern for five minutes. He thought he was the funniest thing since Johnny Carson!

He has definitely reminded me that he will mimic what he sees. But I love that his knee-jerk response now to landing on the ground is not to panic or cry, but rather to laugh and cover his mouth. I love that he has gone so far as to invent a game out of falling. I hope I can live a life that he is safe to emulate. I hope he continues to take lemons and make lemonade in his life. I hope its a life that is always as full of laughter and smiles as his currently is.

Let me start by saying that I am so not a Biblical scholar. Rather, I'm a very curious girl. I always have been. Often times, that gets me into trouble. But when I get curious about God, I get answers.

I am suddenly struck by the fact that Jesus went toe-to-toe, literally face to face with the Prince of Darkness himself. And was tempted (Matt 4:1-11) in EVERY way (Heb 4:15.) I find it curious that the temptation with Satan in the wilderness event is recorded immediately after Jesus is baptized and God says (paraphrasing) "I love you, my boy. I'm so proud of you!" How many of us would hear that from our Daddy, then get 40 days worth of hungry, get ultimately tempted, and still make that Daddy proud?

I find it interesting that the Bible mentions he fasted for 40 days and nights. (In the Islamic holy month of Ramadan, they fast from sunup to sundown but can eat after the sun has set.) I don't believe God wastes words in the Bible. I find it quite important that it is mentioned "and nights." I can only imagine how hungry Christ was. And then to be tempted! I'm not saying every temptation mankind would ever face was presented to Jesus in this event with Satan. But maybe it was. The Bible specifically lists several. But were those the only things in which Satan tempted Christ?

I think of how many sins I've been tempted with in my 33 years. I have resisted some of them. But I've surrendered to many and I'm ashamed. Yet I realize that Jesus lived this exact same length of time and never faltered. He never told a little white lie to his mom or dad. He never cheated in school or was ugly to his siblings. (It's not just the Big 10 that he obeyed.) I mean, this guy did it all perfectly! He was tempted in every way that I am. He was tempted in every way that males are.

Yes, the world has changed. Yes, technology is different. But, as Ecclesiastes says, there is nothing new under the sun. I'm taking that to mean there are no new temptations either. Let's face it, there's some freaky stuff addressed, especially in the Old Testament, that most of us would never dream of doing. Stuff that gets an "ick!" reaction. I have to believe Jesus was tempted with all of that as well. And if the Prince of Darkness is as good at tempting as I know him to be, he didn't make it look "icky." He made it look appealing and enticing.

I take such comfort in knowing that Jesus was able to walk away from that temptation, even in a state of ravenous hunger. Now I'm not saying, "if He can do it, I can do it." But I am saying, "Oh my goodness, He gets it! He knows exactly what I'm going through. And if He got through it, He can get me through it too, if I'll let Him." What peace & comfort to know that He understands us even at our weakest, most vulnerable, tempted, icky states.

Self-Diagnosis of a Serious Condition

I have self-diagnosed a condition today that I believe I inherited from my mother. I believe it to be contagious to my child as well as others around me. It can be permanent or not. I am not upset with my mother, nor do I apologize if someone else does catch it.

I believe I have "Pollyanna Syndrome." Yep, I'm talking about the tireless optimism and seeing the good in the rough stuff, as exemplified by Hayley Mills in the Disney film from the 60s.

The day started out simply enough. I was heading to breakfast with my husband and son when I started to slip on a coat. My husband laughingly asked, "Would you do me a favor? Would you not wear that coat? I really don't like it." I laughed and replied that the coat held no significance to me and I'd be happy to wear something different. Pollyanna lessons: (1) I have other coats and it doesn't impede me to not wear that one. Aren't I lucky to have multiple coats to choose from! (2) I get to bless someone with a perfectly functional and warm coat that just happens to not be my husband's taste. (3) I have a husband who's willing to tell me the truth in a gentle way because he likes the way I look (not because he doesn't.) I have someone who doesn't make me feel ugly or unattractive when he addresses my clothes. And I have someone with an opinion as opposed to someone who doesn't see me.

Then I was talking on the phone to my fantastic mother. I can't even remember how, but we started talking about friendships, relationships, and feelings. I was never popular in high school. I told her, no matter what age I am, no matter how old I get or where I go, no matter whether I work outside the home or not, there will always be "cool kids" and I'm just not one of them. It wasn't a pity party. Just a fact. My mother confessed she felt the same way. In her college days (which were a few years back) there was a drill team. Her friends always seemed to make it and she never did. Even reflecting back, it still stings. Feelings still are hurt when I am excluded from activities I would enjoy. But I refuse to get bitter or angry. Pollyanna lessons: (1) I wasn't "cool" in high school or college, but I was friends with people from every clique. I knew pretty much everybody and was relatively well-liked. I didn't have issues with anyone. (2) I could wonder what made them different or better than me. But my job is to be the best Christy I can be. (3) I am a good friend to those I hold dear and I reach out to those I don't know. (4) I have enough empathy from my own "been there, done thats" to be deliberate in making others feel included.

I'm not the prettiest girl in the world. I'm not the snazziest dresser (refer to the coat incident.) But I try to do what I can with what I've got (without breaking the proverbial bank.) The other night, my darling hubby and I were watching something and I noticed I had the same shirt as someone on TV. I jokingly said, "It looks better on me." He laughed and said, "Actually, it looks better on her. You're way too cool for that shirt." Wait...I'm too COOL?!?!? (see above.) Pollyanna Lesson: I may not be married to a guy who fawns over me every day and tells me constantly how gorgeous I am. But I know he loves me. I know he thinks I'm pretty. I know he's glad he married me. After all, he comes home to me every day. He kisses and hugs me. And even when he tells me he doesn't like something, he makes me feel beautiful in the telling of it.

I don't have to be the coolest, prettiest, best dressed, or trendiest. I'm a good "me" and that's more than enough!

A Lovely, Cold Day

My exciting day thus far...went to the grocery store, fed the boy, Febreezed the comforter, ate lunch myself, and wondered why the computer keeps flickering. So, what's a mom and little tyke to do on a cold, overcast day in the middle of February after the nap? Light a fire, put on oldies and dance, of course!

Yep, once the knucklehead gets up, it will be time for a Nunez Family Dance Party. I love introducing him to music that predates him (and me, for that matter.) I love watching him discover new ways to move his body and new rhythms to clap. His current repertoire of dance moves include "Flamingo," "Elvis," and "Football Run." I love how he giggles and gets so tickled with himself that he runs at his full speed to crash into me. I can't help but smile when he dances, giggles, then looks back at me with a cheesy grin for my approval. But if I start dancing with him, he begs to be picked up and danced with in my arms.

This is fine for about two minutes. Then I remember he weighs 31 pounds! If I put him down, he just wants up again. So I get my cardio workout by jumping, bouncing, swaying, and generally be a silly goose with him in my arms. It wears me out to the point that I then want a nap. Which of course, I won't get. But I am one lucky momma!

I hear the stirrings of a toddler, so I will sign off the computer and DANCE!

Tough and Wonderful Day

This morning we had to take our son to a surgery center for tubes to be inserted in his ears. He started the day by hugging and hanging out with the receptionist. Then he moved on to hugging the anesthesiologist, surgeon, most of the nurses, and several of the other children waiting to also have procedures.

Everyone was incredibly kind and skilled. The surgery was incredibly quick, very successful, and even so, it was difficult. The waiting out in the lobby was hard. But seeing him still sedated in the recovery room was so heart wrenching. We both hated seeing our little guy in that condition. (I am SO grateful to have a husband with a job that allowed him to be at our sides.) Fortunately, he soon awoke.

When Jackson woke up, he was not too happy. They warned us this was very common. But once we put a sippy cup of milk in his mouth, he quickly became his happy, fantastic self. After he pounded the milk, they gave him another cup full of apple juice and a box of animal crackers. By then he was quite content. The nurse told us that protocol dictated that patients subjected to sedation had to be wheeled out. She asked if we thought he would ride in the wheelchair by himself or in one of our laps. No lap, he wanted to ride by himself! So with a teddy bear on either side, he ecstatically rode out pushed by the nurse into the pouring rain and to our car.

The rest of the day, he was his absolutely delightful self. He ate and napped normally. Fast forward a few hours to a little before 7 that night. He runs up to his daddy unbeckoned or coerced, puckers up, and gives the first kiss of his life! It was so precious and sweet (though his dad said it was a bit on the slimy side!)

What a day! We know beyond the shadow of a doubt that the surgery was in his best interest and will do wonders for him, long term. We know is a happy-go-lucky boy who loves to hug and snuggle us (and random strangers.) But that kiss just made my heart soar! It makes me feel that he knows us, loves us, and is grateful to us for the care, attention, and affection we bestow on him.

A Long Walk (and a short jog)

I think I'm finally mad enough. And that's a good thing. I think I am mad enough about being lazy, feeling fat, and not liking what I see in the mirror. It's February and in the sixties! Why have I wasted this amazing winter thus far without taking advantage of it?

So today, I went for a walk. I went a total of 3.4 miles and ran .9 continuously. I'm kind of aggravated about the .9. I would have gone the extra block had I known. But I didn't have a route planned. I just strapped the kid in the stroller and took off in my new shoes. (Well, my new shoes, along with a tank top and pants...don't worry!) The weather was amazing and it didn't feel too bad. I was pretty proud of me. I hope I continue the habit.

My son enjoyed most of our journey as well. So much so that he fell asleep. For a while. But mind you, not long enough. And at the wrong time of the day. He slept for 20-30 minutes of our adventure, then woke up and fussed. I picked him up and carried him while pushing the stroller for a few minutes. I think he just needed to snuggle like he normally expects to get after waking. It just wasn't very convenient. So I briefly carried the giant child (31 pounds!)

We went home, he ate a very large lunch, then I tried to put him down for a nap. Yeah, right. He laid there talking to himself and generally content. But I went to get him because I knew if he fell asleep after a certain amount of time, he would not wake up in time for his therapy. We played for a while, then his therapist came. He played pretty well with her. But he was so tired by the end, he quickly crashed after she left.

Poor kid. I kind of felt bad that my walk / jog messed up his napping schedule. But in my defense, he wasn't supposed to fall asleep!

Quirks and flaws are all part of the plan

In case you have not yet guessed, I am a Christian. And for the past few days, I've kind of had tunnel vision on a particular passage in the Bible. Psalm 139:1-18. Go read it for yourself. It's pretty darn cool.

But my point of this entry is not to do anything other than explain what I've been feeling and learning from this scripture lately. One of the things it talks about is how God formed us in our mother's womb. If God formed us, even though we live in a fallen and sinful world, we're all made exactly how we are supposed to be. Some people are born with seemingly horrible or debilitating conditions. But somehow, God has purpose in all of them.

This week (well, the past couple of weeks) has been challenging. Our knucklehead is 21-months-old and not saying much. We've had him tested through an early intervention program and with an Ear, Nose & Throat specialist. He starts therapy tomorrow to improve his speech and general communication. He has surgery Friday to put tubes in his ears, which will hopefully alleviate ear infections, improve his hearing, and result in him speaking. There's a small level of guilt for me because my hearing is horrid and I had numerous sets of tubes as a child. So I feel like I "gave" it to him.

I had to take Jackson to our pediatrician on Monday for a height / weight check because his proportion changed slightly at 18 months and they wanted to follow up to make sure his ratio didn't change. So, we went for something that should have been boring and routine. Our fantastically pro-active physician listened to his chest and said, "Have I ever mentioned a heart murmur before?" Um....no. I would have remembered that!

The doctor ordered an echocardiogram to check his heart and told me we needed it done before Friday or we should postpone the surgery. After all, hearts take priorities over ears. He told me it was probably nothing to worry about, but he'd rather be safe than sorry. Especially before subjecting him to surgery!

We went today and found out that his heart is structurally sound and very normal. He's healthy and can go forward with surgery without concern. YAY!!!! (Thanks, God!!!)

For as wonderful as that is to hear, I kept coming back to one thing. I have been so focused on the communication therapy and surgery needed to "fix" my son. But "fixing" something requires that said object be broken. And my son's not broken. He's made exactly as he was meant to be. I know ear infections and delayed speech are extremely minor things. But when it's your baby, there's no such thing as minor.

I have a nephew who was born with vision in only one eye. We were all shocked when we found this out at his birth. It wasn't an easy thing to cope with or accept initially. But guess what? He's EXACTLY who and how he's supposed to be. He's absolutely perfect. His folks are very proactive to provide him with a normal, active life while being mindful to protect the vision he does have. He's an amazingly energetic, intelligent, and fun 6-year-old who I wouldn't trade for anything. And yes, if science and medicine ever makes it possible for him to regain sight in that eye, I'm sure his parents would consider pursuing it.

I don't have to accept that my son is seeming to get ear infections on a monthly basis if there's something that can be done to treat it. That's not good for him. That's not me being a good momma. But I also don't have to assume that surgery means he's broken.

No, my child, my nephew, and all of us are perfectly, wonderfully knit together in the secret place by a Holy and Perfect God who does not make mistakes. It's the quirks and perceived "flaws" that can be used in His glorious Plan for our lives. We may not understand it. We may never see the Big Picture and how those quirks are used. But that doesn't mean they aren't. So if my son has speech delays and lousy hearing, he's still perfect. It's just part of the quirky fabulousness that makes my boy, my boy!