Pre-eye exam jitters

Last Christmas, I was thrilled to post that my son's Coats Disease had stabilized after two rounds of cryo and laser. It was my best Christmas gift ever.
Now it's that time of the year again. And just like last year, the eye exam has been delayed twice for one reason or another. He's actually not past his due date but I usually start early because I work myself up into such a frenzy that I want to know the results as soon as possible. He's had two more eye exams (one in March, the other in August) and the doctor says there's been no fresh leakage. The exudates (existing leakage) are still there, though. The doctor says they'll get absorbed over time, or he can use laser.
The kid also has glasses now - very, very low power and in both eyes. He also hasn't complained of any floaters or other discomfort throughout the year.
This time, we've kept missing the doctor. he was away for an emergency surgery the first time and the next week, I clean forgot. The stress - a long story not involving my son and meant strictly for my other blog - is making me senile. We were all set for tomorrow, but it turns out the doctor's going to be in surgery again.
On Monday, the kid has his school's annual program. Tuesday's supposed to be a "bad day" for kids to be taken to a hospital; Wednesday the doctor's in surgery again; Thursday's Christmas, so the hospital OPD is closed; and Friday's surgery day again. Saturday we're leaving to visit my in-laws for a week. And then school re-opens again. And I am falling apart with the stress. It always builds up in the days running up the test.
A few days ago, a colleague mentioned my son's case to her eye doctor. He doesn't know my son's doctor but recommended someone else in the city. So that's another thing driving me crazy - do we stick by our doctor or get a third opinion (we've already had a second opinion - and it matched our doctor's).
Anyway, I'm sooo hoping the doctor will be able to spare some time to see my son tomorrow. Hopefully his assitant will be able to give me a clearer reply.
I honestly don't think I'll be able to go two weeks without knowing how my son is doing. The thing is, his condition has been stable since the last cryo in Oct 07 - which makes me wonder if all this is too good to be true.
I'm hoping and praying...God bless you little fellow. You're the best thing that ever happened to me.

Why am I younger than your marriage?

I know, I know...there's no excuse for the laziness that set in. It was a lost opportunity if you really think about it. There's so much that has happened in the past two months that I was a fool not to let the blog fodder do its work. Sigh...

Today was our wedding anniversary. Munchkin asked his father: How many years has it been? Ten years, he was told. The boy sulked. "Why are you looking sad?" asked his father. "Your marriage is ten years old, and I'm just six and a half...that's not fair! I should be older."

Ahem...um...right. Sorry, kid. Well, no, actually. But it was complicated to explain. Thank God the birds-and-bees talks are a few years away. Phew!

Other updates: I quit my job in April, worked until May 10 to serve out my notice period, took a week off to be with my son (while chasing red-tape to get my passport), joined a new firm, went to Colombo for training, came back with some yummy shopping and duty free goods, plunged into the new job, got the kid settled into full-day school (not very successfully at first, but hey, I'm not perfect!) and was featured in a book for working moms. It's fantastic, and not just because I wrote one rule. That's coming up in the next post. I know this blog is about the brat, but it's thanks to him that I'm a working MOM, so of course it fits here. :)

...And we're back! (from a holiday, etc.)

Sorry for the long hiatus. Last Friday was hectic because I had to work late at the office and get everything done before we went off to the beach. And Saturday morning, we went to Munchkin's school to collect his final report card. He's got all A's, except in regularity of attendance - he missed a lot of days when he had the Coats Disease treated - and imagination (in art)! That confused me at first because the kid is anything but unimaginative. And then it hit me. If you ask him to draw something, nine times out of ten, he will draw either a car or an airplane. (see our collage on the side panel?) Oh well...but he had A's in everything else!! Well done, my son.

We also had to pick up his new textbooks for the first grade, have him measured for his new uniform and track suit, buy his regular shoes and sports shoes (and socks) and pay up a fat sum for miscellaneous expenses. Then DH wanted to buy shoes (long overdue) so we just about managed to catch our overnight bus. (I ran through the bus station, sandals in one hand, and my son's hand in the other. "Mamma, I've never seen you run so fast," he panted when we finally got to the bus. "That makes two of us, kid. I never knew I could run so fast." Not with the two-inch screw lodged below my left knee. Long story, that.)

We spent the next two days at a cozy little beach resort. Munchkin divided his time between the beach, the pool, the huge bathtub where he had umpteen bubble baths, watching TV, walking all over the resort, and eating yummy food. He doesn't want to go anywhere else for a holiday, ever. Money well spent.

He also started his art camp the morning we got back. The van service picking him up hasn't been going smoothly but we hope it will get settled by the weekend. He has classes on weekends, too! I don't mind. I can finally go and get my long overdue facial done in peace. :-P

Growing Pains: Discrimination

Munchkin's facing some discrimination with the kids in the apartment building. His best friend, who's 8, has begun keeping him out of games he plays with boys of his own age. And most kids my son's age are girls. And out of the blue one day, one of these girls told him: "You can't come to my house. My mother says boys aren't allowed."

What the...@%#*^!?

Munchkin is sensitive so he came away quietly. He hasn't figured out why this girl is behaving so differently now. It has to do with her mother, of course. I have a lot to say about the woman but this is a kids' blog, so I'll vent elsewhere. And from what I hear, people are just dead jealous that I have my mother in the same building so I can work. Well, hello, I worked from home for over 3 years before I decided to go back to work full-time. And my mum lived in the same building even then.

Mum is worried sick that this girl - who's going to be in the same school van as my son in the coming academic year - is going to be mean to him every day. I'm worried too, but I want to teach him how to deal with such senseless people with dignity. And not feel hurt.

DH thinks that most kids in our building are spoilt rotten. Well, I agree with him. I also rarely see them playing anything proper. They just seem to run around a lot and scream and shout a lot more. We're lucky our complex has a play area and a badminton court and plenty of place for kids to use their bicycles. But these children don't seem to know what to do with themselves in the evening.

I was thinking so hard on how to make sure my kid can hold his head high I even considered a full-day school from where he'd get back only by 5.30, a place that has sports teams and he gets to play with his classmates. That's probably not the way to go and I doubt we can afford a place like that, but as a mom, I just got thinking on how best to protect my child.

I realize this is a rambling post. But this thing is hurting me because it's hurting my son. :-(

"Dear God, please save the little girl"

Yesterday, another toddler fell into a 45-ft deep, uncovered borewell pit. This time in Agra, famous as the home of the Taj Mahal. The little fellow saw the story on a news bulletin and asked his grandmother a hundred questions. He was shocked to know that the girl - named Vandana - was even younger than his little friend next door, who is three. This was the third or fourth such case the past couple of years.

As the news channels continued airing updates about the Army's efforts to rescue the little girl, Poppet got all emotional. He went up to the shrine, folded his hands, closed his eyes and said: "Dear God, please save the little girl. She's so tiny. She must be afraid down there, all alone."

Then, as soon as he woke up from his afternoon nap, he asked Mum if she had been rescued. Sadly, she hadn't. So he put on the news channel again to get an update. When Mum brought him a glass of milk, she found him standing in front of the shrine, once again praying for her to be rescued.

When I came home, this was the first thing he told me. "She's so little. They've given her some oxygen too," he added.

It was 9.30 pm before Vandana was finally recovered. Mum called to let us know, because we hardly ever watch the news. (Long story, that.) As soon as he heard that, he ran off to the shrine in our house to say: "Thank you, God. Her mamma must be so happy she's okay."

I was touched and proud at the same time. He cared about what happened to her. He believes in a higher power. He is growing up to be a wonderful human being. Unpretentious and kind, sensitive and caring, despite the tantrums. Thank you, dear God.

Coats Update: All clear for now

On Tuesday, Poppet had an appointment with his eye doctor. It took longer than usual because we wanted to have his vision checked before his eyes were dilated. (We discovered that he has a power of 0.5.) But the real good news was the fact that there has been no fresh leakage since October. The exudates are still there, but the doctor still feels that this could be absorbed by the body over a period of time. No laser needed for now. Thank you, dear God.

His doctor doesn't talk much so we asked him a lot of questions. Could Munchkin go to the beach? Go swimming? Play whatever games he wants to? Not that he hasn't done that so far, but we just wanted a confirmation. And we got one. :-)

So we spent most of this evening trying to plan a beach holiday over the long weekend coming up on April 5. Naturally, tickets are almost impossible to get. Flights are too expensive. After many phone calls, web searches and frantic bookings and cancellations, it looks like we're going to Mangalore, on the west coast. The tiny resort - right on the beach - says rooms are available and we've gone ahead and booked the bus tickets. I'm only waiting for a confirmation from them tomorrow morning.

We haven't been on a vacation in over 18 months. In the meantime, the little rascal's friends have gone on cruises, treks and whatnot with their families. It's not that we couldn't afford a short holiday, but every time he had a break from school, there was an eye procedure or check-up scheduled. Hope everything goes well. Fingers crossed. :-)

Munchkin's next check-up is 5 months later, in late August.

"Where are you, Mamma?"

It was 10.30 am when my cellphone rang. My husband’s number flashed on the screen so I took the call. “Hello?”
“Mamma?” It was Munchkin.
“Hey, baby. Good morning.” I said. He’d been asleep when I left home this morning. He and his father had the day off – it’s Good Friday – but my office was working. I’d given the little brat a hug and a kiss before I left but he hadn’t woken up. I let him sleep.
“Mamma, where are you?” he said, sounding close to tears.
“I’m at the office, sweetie. What’s wrong?” I said as I ducked into an empty conference room to talk in private.
“At the office?” he sounded worse now. “Oh, mamma!”

*Cue for working mom guilt to stir below the surface.*

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you alright?”
“I woke up and searched for you and you weren’t anywhere in the house.”
“Aw…I’m sorry, baby. Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s still sleeping,” he wailed. Sleeping? At 10.30! “I’m all alone.”

*Cue for working mom guilt to break the surface and bubble over.*

“So you called me on your own? You can dial from Daddy’s phone?”
“Yes, I can. Can you come home, Mamma?”
“I wish I could,” I told him…and meant it.
Silence.
“Go wake up Daddy. He has plans for the two of you.”
“He’ll get mad. He doesn’t like to be woken up.”
“No, baby. It’s okay. Go wake him up.”
“But I want to see you, Mamma. I woke up and you weren’t there.”

*Cue for working mom guilt to flood and melt my insides.*

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry about that. But I gave you a big hug before I left. You have a holiday so I let you sleep late. Now go wake up Daddy…” I said.
“He’s just coming out of his room now,” said the little fellow. I breathed a sigh or relief.
“Give him the phone, baby.”
“When will you come, Mamma?”
“As soon as I can.” *sob*
Then the DH took the phone. “He’s upset,” I told him.
“He’ll be okay. I’ll distract him,” the DH croaked. I could hear Munchkin asking for the phone again.
“Mamma, will you try to come home early today?”
“I will, dear. I promise.”
“He’s okay,” said DH. “Don’t worry.”

I’ll try not to. That’s all I can do. T.R.Y. I normally don’t have working moms’ guilt for a variety of reasons. But every once in a while, it’s something you can’t avoid.

*Cue to banish the monster back to its subterranean lair.*

Until next time, that is…

*Cue to bawl my eyes out in the washroom.*

Photo from Freerangestock.com