WW III

Earlier today, my niece Celeste grabbed a handful of Rain's hair. She shook her like a maraca. Rain punched her in retaliation.

Later, my generally sweet nephew (seriously, two weeks ago, we joked how peaceful-Gandhi-ish this kid is) took one look at Rain (who was standing on our ottoman) an knocked her right off. She went flying and hit her head on the bottom of our sofa.

Rain is no saint, either. She has a sixth sense for knowing a child's MVT (Most Valuable Toy) and can find no greater joy than hijacking one as she runs around the room like, "You want it? You want it? COME GET IT!"

There are weak moments throughout my day where I imagine calling my sister-in-law and saying, "Our happy Switzerland has broken out into World War 3--can you please ask the doctors to release you? Feel free to bring your back brace."

Seriously.

My poor sister-in-law is currently doing physical therapy (a good sign, actually) in a place where she is the youngest patient. She has broken her back in two places and has a hairline fracture in her pelvis. Her standard attire is PJs and a back brace, so she is itching to come home (the fact that she has a crabby suite mate factors in as well). She actually wants to come home to our war-ravaged Switzerland.

The truth is, her kids miss her, and it's affecting the oldest (the 3-year-old boy) in a negative way. The youngest one has slipped into a blissful ignorance about her mother's sudden displacement, but the oldest ... well, he's decided to make us all pay a hefty price until his mother returns. He's just plain mad. It shows up all the time about everything. He wants to have an argument about every detail of his routine. This morning he had a fit about whether he wanted juice with his breakfast or not. C'mon!

He's become obsessive with answering the phone, getting his way, and saying "No!" just to get a reaction. But just when I think I'm going to explode, he falls back into his ultra-sweet personality. He's the kid with the dinosaur undies who trips and says comfortingly, "I'm OK!" He has a fantastic smile, and every day he greets me with, "GOOD MORNIN'"! He shakes the hands of the adults at church and says politely,"How ya doin'?"

And for cryin' out loud, he's the only kid in this house who can use the toilet!

The other day, after a long visit, he started to leave his mom's room. Then suddenly he ran back. He had tears in his eyes and just stared at his mom lying in bed. He stood there crying quietly. His mom pulled the tough cookie act ("I love you, too, and it's going to be OK. Don't cry, don't cry ..."). He pulled the tough little guy act and finally left the room.

They both cried again afterwards. So, we all soldier on ....

A Mom Again ... and Again ...

I will not replay all of yesterday's events as they continue to trouble me. I will, however, touch on the basics as necessary.

Let me begin by saying I love my family. I have eight nieces & nephews, and 4 of them are under the age of 5. These five (Rain included) are a tribe of miscreants and minions, but they are also loving and charming.

For the next few months, Tim & I, along with all members of my family, will have to step up to the plate and help take care of my brother's two children (a boy who is 3, and a girl who is Rain's age). My brother is a good guy, but he's going to need the help.

Yesterday, his wife (whom we all love dearly and is a very petite, sweet girl) was in my attic looking for a box she wanted. To make a painful, long story short, she lost her footing and fell through the attic. She landed in our garage, back first.

I can not adequately describe the child-like, shrill she made when she hit the floor. All I will say is her brother, who saw her fall and was helpless to stop her, took a few hours afterwards to seem coherent again. I was at the other end of the house when it happened, and it took me a moment to understand who could be making such a sound.

The paramedics took her to the hospital, and I left Rain and her two children wailing at home with a family member.

My sister-in-law is still in the hospital today. She broke her back in two spots and they are awaiting more tests to see what other damage was done to her pelvis. In the meantime, her kids are at home with me. Both have looked at me several times since yesterday, troubled, and said, "Mommy? Mommy?"

I told them, "She's coming," but that's all. Until then, and for many months from now, we will all be doing things for her kids that I know my sister-in-law would rather be doing herself. Hugs, play time, racing games, even holding them up--all of that is out of the question.

For the time being, I'm stuck with troubling thoughts. I mean, let's be honest here: I'm hanging by a thread trying to keep up with Rain--how am I going to be able to watch over two others? What if I drop the ball and one of the kids sneaks off and gets hurt? What if my patience falters?

Troubling thoughts, indeed.

Work With Me!

So. Today two speech therapists came to see Rain. Yes, I said speech therapists. Because the doctor wants to make sure Rain is developing well verbally (since she's so quiet), he signed her up for both a hearing test (as discussed in my last post) and a session with speech therapists. I'm not sure how long Tim can bear to let this madness go on ("But there's nothing wrong with her!" he says. Actually, Tim would never say anything with an exclamation point, so it's more like, "There's nothing wrong with her." <*patient sigh*, continues sipping coffee>).

Anyway, so the speech therapists are doing a two-day visit which began today. I had high hopes, because for the last month, Rain has spent extensive time with her same-aged cousins. She has spoken more in the last few weeks than she ever has, so I was hoping she'd show off some of that verbiage to the therapists.

Rather than go into the details of what happened today, let me just explain it this way.

Do y'all remember that frog character on Looney Tunes?


He used to sing ragtime and dance all kinds of nuts. It always happened that some guy would come along and see the frog dancin', and he'd catch him. The man would race to show the miraculous creature to an audience, thinking all the while of the cash he would soon be swimming in. But as soon as the man pull the curtain to reveal the frog, the frog would sit there all limp, practically dead. He wouldn't move, let alone entertain. But, as soon as the man and the frog were alone again, the frog would start toe-tappin' all over the place.

Rain is my very special frog. For an hour and a half while the two therapists were here, she said not one word. Not one.

When the therapists said goodbye, Rain would not even say, "Bye!" which she says ALL THE TIME. I closed the door behind the good women, and Rain turned to me and said, "Mommy?" I was like, "Oh, now you can talk??" She then said, "Papas?" (the Spanish word she uses for food).

I fed her. After, we went for a walk outside. Rain laughed and babbled the whole way, and I wondered when she was going to start her ragtime numbers.

Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3 ...

Last Wednesday, we took Rain to an ENT specialist. Now, I see "we," because Tim insisted that he should go, though the appointment was flat in the middle of a work day. Even though we both decided that this test was clearly going to be a waste of everybody's time, somehow it was still important that we both be there. I think, deep down, I had this peep of paranoia that whispered, "What if this turns out to be a very big deal? What if Rain can't hear as well as we think?" These thoughts perhaps played in Tim's mind as well, so off we all went to the appointment.

The specialist gave Rain a hearing test in two parts. If you've never witnessed a toddler taking a hearing test, prepare yourself.

Rain, in her defense, has never been very ... um ... baby-ish. She's not one for cutesy faces and noises from adults, and there's nothing we can do about that. The specialist, however, decided early on that the way to get Rain to do his bidding was to cajole her with a sing-songy voice.

Picture this, if you will: Rain is sitting on Tim's lap in a sound booth. She can not see me. There is one window directly in front of her. All she can see is the specialist at his controls looking directly at her. The test begins.

Specialist: [high-pitched-adult-to-baby voice] "Raaaain! Where am I?"
Rain:[turns to look at one of the box speakers in the room where the voice is coming from]
Specialist: "Raaain! The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round! Where am I?"
This is the part where I had to look away. I could only picture Rain's expression of irritation. Tim confirmed her reaction.
Rain: [Says nothing, but looks dead straight at the guy in the window. Probably wondering why he's asking the same question when the man clearly hasn't moved.]
Specialist: "Oh, Rainbow!"
Rain: [Turns to look at speaker box to humor the guy. The specialist rewards her by, no kidding, turning on the light in a shadowed box in the sound room that has ...



That's right. A Stephen King-ish horrifying clapping monkey! From that point, Rain was justifiably terrified.]

Upon leaving the sound booth, Rain decided she wanted nothing to do with this man. I have never seen her give someone the cold shoulder the way she did to him. She did not flail about, but she simply would stare off to the side every time he talked to her. I mean, she would not look at him. Her stare was focused and dismissive. Ouch.

On a happy note (no pun intended), Rain's hearing is fine.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Rain is all over the place. She paints, she sings (if shouting in one long note while holding a songbook counts), she chases--she's everything a toddler is supposed to be.

When I go to her wellness visits at her doctor's office, I don't worry. I know they will tell me she's fine, and I'll nod approvingly at some growth chart and that will be that.

And then a few weeks ago, she doesn't pass some little test, and it's time to take things a bit more seriously. Or is it paranoia and preemptive health care? No matter. Whatever the doctor suggests, I know we'll end up doing.

First stop, the ENT (Ears, Nose, & Throat specialist).

Peacemaker ... Again

So. I was out and about last week with Rain. It was the day after Christmas, and I was feeling at peace with all the after-holiday glow and whatnot. The weather was pleasant but the wind was particularly strong.

We left a shop, and though the wind was fierce, I could tell Rain's diaper needed to be changed. So, I put her in the driver's seat (she loves to play with the wheel) and dumped our bags in the trunk. I quickly changed Rain's diaper in the car and watched her play with the radio for a while. After a few minutes, I informed her it was time to sit in her car seat. I scooped her up and got out. I shut the door against the gusts of wind and got into the back. The door was open about six inches while I sat inside buckling Rain in. I had just buckled her chest latch when, of course, the wind picked up. My door opened suddenly and hit the car next to me.

Mind you, I had never touched the door. I felt bad, though, so I told Rain, "Darn! Mommy has to go and see if the the door did any--"

Honestly, that's as far as I got.

Apparently, there was a lady in the car my door hit. I heard her before I saw her. She was yelling. I mean, straight up cussing me out before she ever got out of the car. I will attempt to edit the following conversation for our younger viewers:

Me, looking puzzled.

Crazy Lady: "Oh, h___ no! You b___!"

Me, still puzzled. Perhaps I ran over a kid??

CL: "You KNEW I was backing out! You should've waited for me!"

Me: "I didn't know--"

CL: "I SAW you! You were out here for 15 minutes and--"

Me, truly puzzled. If she saw me for 15 minutes, wouldn't she had to have been out here as well? How would I know then that she had finally decided to back out? Wait! It doesn't even matter because

Me: "The wind opened the door."

CL whips out her phone and dials.

CL: "It's me. This b___ [nodding to me] just hit my car!"

I HIT her car? Like a head-on collision? All remorse dripping away ...

CL: [still on phone] "Get here right now!"

I check for damage on the car. There is a single hairline of white where my door scuffed hers. I had to lean in to see it.

CL: "Give me your insurance!"

I had to look at her and the mark on the car twice to make sure I hadn't missed the dead kid that must be on the ground. Without a word, I turn to walk back to the driver's seat to get my insurance info.

CL: "You'd BETTER not be trying to leave with my information!"

Seriously? Can you say one thing without screaming?

Me: "Calm down. I'm getting it."

CL: "Oh I won't calm down! This is my son's car and I've only had it for 5 months and--"

I walk away and get the info. At this point, her husband who must have been at a shop nearby, pulls up. He can see right away that his wife is trying her best to make a scene. I shook my head, wondering what kind of man could deal with this on a daily basis? Was he more of a jerk than she was? I take out my phone and shoot a picture of the "damage." At this point, I truly, truly, truly want her to file a claim with my insurance company. I just want the joy of someone else telling her, "Seriously?"

CL's Husband: "So what happened?"

I explain it briefly. It's clear I'm not lying, and that I am 2 seconds from killing his wife. But, Rain, my Rain, is sitting in the car, listening to me. The man nods his head, and while I open up my insurance card stuff, he open the trunk of his wife's car. He pulls out a rag, and no joke, rubs the entire mark off her car. All that's left is a tiny scratch that can be buffed out. Now CL finally stops her ranting when it is absolutely clear that the damage is laughable. Her husband tells her to sit in the car. I offer my insurance information, and he shakes his head. I give him my phone number, so he can call me with the bill.

He tells me softly that he probably won't even call, as buffing out the damage will cost less than $20.

He was wrong. He called me a few days later. The cost was $5.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out (pardon me while I have a Karate Kid moment), breathe in ...

I was livid with CL, but at the same time, I felt so much pity for her husband. He was absolutely cool about the whole thing, but his ogre wife ...

I've thought over the situation many times. When Tim and I first dated, especially before Rain was born, that was the kind of situation I would've never tolerated (someday I'll tell you about the whole mall/police incident) because I firmly believe in justice. Fair justice. Sure, I made a mistake (I should've firmly shut my car door), but did that merit all the verbal abuse? If she had seen me buckling my kid in (by her own admission, she was watching me), why decide to back out just to prove she had some sort of right-of-way?

There was a time I would not have let her talk trash without openly laughing at her (yes, I've done this, too. Sorry, but when someone acts ridiculous ...).

But, Rain. There is always Rain to consider.

God help me not to make my little peacemaker a bitter woman by example. At the time, all I did was finish buckling Rain up and say calmly, "That lady over there is crazy, and we're going to leave now before she makes us crazy, too."

I smiled and drove off, agitated, but more than that, sad for a decent man.

Peacemaker

The other day I had this lengthy discussion with Tim, and it was on a topic (to be discussed later) that we had, in one way or another, been talking about for weeks. But the conversation had, overall, been very positive except for that night. So, I went to bed kinda mad. Truth be told, that almost never happens. Tim and I aren't a fighting couple, thank God, so I've gone to bed mad maybe three times in the last six years of our marriage. I hate going to bed mad for so many reasons, but mainly because I don't like to leave ugly things festering all night. I know the next day I'll probably be more mad because I'll have had time to dissect and over analyze every word and fall into madness.

It was no surprise then that the following morning I woke up still miffed by my conversation with Tim. At some point in the night, Rain had left her bed and walked herself to our room. When she does this, Tim will lean over, scoop her up, put her between us, and fall asleep again ten seconds later.

As I laid in bed with my eyes still closed, I could feel Rain stirring. I hoped she and Tim would get up quickly, have breakfast together as usual, and give me a few minutes alone to brood. I waited a minute, but Rain continued to shuffle about and ruffle the sheets. I sighed and opened my eyes.

Rain wasn't wiping the sleep from her eyes at all. She was staring at me. When she saw that my eyes were finally opened, she smiled. A right big smile. Then her face became serious. She looked at me for a moment and stuck her tongue out as far as she could. I'd never seen her do it before, and I snorted. That was all she needed. She stuck her tongue out again, and licked her lips all the way around. She swished her tongue side to side like a frog, and I laughed. It was the first time she had every tried to make a funny face, and I was overly proud about the whole thing. She kept her eyes serious, but once she had me really laughing, she smiled as if she was very pleased with herself.

Tim awoke to me laughing. I'm sure it was the very last sound he thought he'd hear that morning. But Rain made it happen. Just when I think I've reached some kind of boiling point, she cashes in all her cute and cuddly chips. She does something that makes me look at her and think, "You are the very best of me and Daddy, and how can someone wonderful like you be made from anyone but a madly in love pair?" I mean, really, the feelings were all kinds of ooey-gooey. I don't know if she has some knack for self-preservation (like keeping us happily together is in her best interest??), but honestly, it's like she knows just when to whip out the charm and get me feeling all joyous again.

Which is a pretty stinky thing when you've lost sleep all night thinking of ways to be petty. Oh well.

On the upside, Tim & I did resolve our issues that day, and to be honest, if Rain hadn't been so loving that morning, well, I wouldn't have felt much incentive to fix things quickly.

Hmm. From Rainzilla to Rain the Peacemaker? It must be the holidays.