Wednesday, March 31, 2010

{Dear Miss Eisley}

You are not a baby anymore, have you noticed? You're quite the little girl, in fact.

A little girl who loves to chill in front of the TV for her favorite shows...

... a little girl who sports her love for mom proudly {hehe}....


... a little girl who loves to run in the yard...

... and says "Hi!" to all the people passing by walking their dogs or taking their kids to the park...

... a little girl who sits still while mommy paints her toenails purple.

You love post-bathtime dress up with mom's jewelry and hair accessories...
... you love all sorts of dress up.
That includes experimenting with unique hats. This one is your favorite, and you get angry if we take it off:
You love music, dancing, and insisting on climbing onto the piano bench 50 times a day to "practice".

This is all great and wonderful... but mommy misses having a tiny baby.
Maybe you'll have a playmate someday?

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Adrenaline


Today,
a couple hours after Justin left for work, Eisley was tired so she settled into the couch.

Cheerios & sippy cup in hand, she became engrossed in an episode of Miss Spider's Sunny Patch Friends. She usually hates that show, so I knew she was tired.

Not to miss a rare chance for a moment to myself while she's awake, I sat down at the table to read emails & the blogs I catch up with every day.

All was well.

Until
, after about 20 minutes, Eisley left the couch to find me. She was limping. Slumped over. She looked lethargic...

and her left leg was swollen about three times it's normal size - looking ready to burst through the seams of her footed pajamas. The pajamas were still zipped & buttoned, but her leg was deformed and enormous.

I was absolutely alarmed. I read horror stories on other blogs all the time. True stories. Recently one about a boy who drowned in the tub and was technically dead for over 12 minutes {he's okay now}. Another about a little girl who was not so lucky, after a fainting spell she landed face down on a toy and suffocated. {Why do I read these things???}

And if you know me, you know I'm not the calm, collected, laid back mom who brushes off worry and anxiety.

So as I took in this sight - my child hobbling towards me with a horrifically swollen leg - my adrenaline glands intoxicated me.

Now - a lot of people don't mind adrenaline. It's fun! It's the reason we ride roller coasters, right?

UNTIL you become a parent, and then suddenly there's another side to adrenaline. It's evil. It means your child is in danger. This is, beyond question, the worst feeling in. the. world.

It makes you sick.

It makes you want to scratch your skin off.

It makes you physically ill.

When you are a parent this kind of adrenaline is liquid dread, 100 proof, injected directly into your marrow.

I've never experienced anything like it until I became a mom.

So that's what happened today, adrenaline shot into my body as I reached for Eisley.

I admit this, I didn't stop and think logically. I reacted. I panicked. I assumed the worse. {And I hate assumptions!}

Now here is reason #243 why moms are most certainly superheroes in their own right:

In that millisecond it took for me to reach down and grab my child - a mom can think one million thoughts in an instant. Our brains go into overdrive.

Here's a few of those thoughts, to give you an idea, that my supermom mind thought in the fraction of a second it took for me to lean over:

"Oh my gosh!!!"
"What happened?!"
"Did she break her leg?"
"Did she get a spider bite?"
"Why is she lethargic?"
"She looks distraught!"
"What am I going to feel when I touch her leg?"
"Is it black and blue?"
"Is she going to live?"
"Do I call 911 or do I rush her to the hospital?"
"The doctors are going to think I'm a bad mother..."
"Did this happen after she fell off the bed this morning
and it's been swelling all morning?!"
"What if she has to have her leg amputated?"
"Why isn't she crying? Does it hurt?"

{Note: I have heard that toddlers & babies can break their bones and show very few signs of distress, some parents don't even realize it for a few days.}

Did I overreact? Yes. {It's me, I always overreact a bit. I'm an excitable person. I will not apologize for this, however. I like having strong emotions and vibrancy in my heart. Most of the time.}

Sick, achy, and dreading what I would see & feel - my hand finished the journey towards her leg and gently squeezed.

Eisley looked up at me.

"Shuh-sha?" She said. Hardly distraught.

I pushed harder, since it wasn't hurting her.

Squish!

The tsunami-sized adrenaline waves receded within my veins.

Left over was a faint numb feeling and weakness in my limbs. I laughed and rolled my eyes at myself.

No spider bites.

No broken bones.

No mystery disease.

Apparently her diaper had come undone on the right, and worked itself down her left left. She had been limping from the strange feeling of a wet, full diaper wrapped around her leg. She had acted lethargic because, duh, it was nap time.

Silly mommy.


And although she was half-covered in her own urine, that was nothing a bath with mom couldn't fix.

Crisis averted.

My daughter had two perfect little legs.

A bath.

And a dry diaper.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

My Gorjees Gerl

Someday, Eisley, this blog will hopefully be a sort of time capsule for you. A baby book. A scrapblog.

And you will read that on Sunday March 7th, 2010 we took you for a bagel after church.

You kept smiling at a funny dressed elderly woman each time she passed our table.

When we passed her again in the parking lot she stopped and said in a thick Russian, or Romanian, or some other Eastern European accent:

"You are sunshine! You are beautiful day, gorgeous girl!"


Or phonetically, because for some reason that's
part of what made this stranger's comment so special:

"Yew aer sunshen! Yew aer bootiful dea, gorjees gerl!"


You made her happy.
Just by smiling and being you.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

{One Peaceful Moment}

{Dear Eisley}
This is what you look like when you nap.
I could stare at this face for hours.
These are your sweet tiny feet, still for once.
This is what you look like when we are trying to gently wake you. There are errands to be ran and a schedule to stick to if we don't want to be up until midnight...
This is how you're like your mom when you wake, confused and disoriented.
But if we give you a minute, you'll start giving out smiles.
I try and enjoy these sorts of moment when they're here because so much of life is made up of moments not like this. {Like last night, for example, when you embarrassed mom & dad in front of a restaurant full of people.}
Here's what I look like when you wake up from a nap and you snatch the camera and start taking your own pictures.
{With Love, Mom}


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