Well damn.
I kind of got out of the habit of doing these didn’t I? In
my defence it’s been a crazy couple of years. In and around your birthday we
can barely find time to mark your height on the wall or take your yearly picture.
So. What’s new with you the last couple of years?
Well, last year at around this time you got that scar at the
corner of your mouth. And wasn’t that a shock. Your mother called me at work
and said that you’d scraped your face by falling off a log. Your mom was in
surgery so it was my turn to leave work and come pick you up. I took a
conference call on the way home, trying to catch up on some work before I got
home. I was doing that very parental thing of weighing the variables before I’ve
had an opportunity to accurately assess the situation.
Do I tell daycare that about the borderline diarrhea?
If I mask that fever for a couple hours with some meds will
he okay to put in school?
He says his neck hurts…he probably just slept on it funny.
Parents all secretly think kids are making something worse
then it really is, mostly because we remember when we pulled something similar
when we kids ourselves.
But when I got to the school it was pretty obvious that this
scrape on your cheek was a BIG deal. There were drops of blood on your shirt
and pants and a pretty sizable bandage was taped to your cheek. But most of all
I could read it in your body language, how tired, scared, and in pain you were.
This wasn’t a case of making a mountain out of a molehill. This was a big deal.
So I took you to the emergency room. Once there I peaked
under your bandage to see the extent of the damage.
Your whole cheek was torn open.
And even with your mouth closed I could see teeth.
That was sobering.
So while we waited for the next couple of hours I had to keep
you calm (a scared little boy, clearly in a lot of pain), maintain a grip on my
own emotions, and keeping your mother updated without scaring her. Your mom
kept asking if she should leave work and come to the emergency room. And I said
that there was no point, there was nothing she could do to make the situation
go quicker. But honestly I was just worried that her being there in a heightened
emotional state would freak you out and I didn’t want to make things any harder
on you.
Later, after it was determined you were going to need stitches,
your mom kept sending me texts insisting that I tell the doctor that plastics do
your stiches and not the ‘butcher on call’.
There’s no more inspiring sight in the world then me holding
up my cell phone and weakly telling the doctor ‘my wife says…’.
Thankfully, plastics ended up doing the stiches anyway, so
it all worked out.
They made me leave the room while the did the stiches though. That
was the worst part of the whole event.
From when I picked you up at school to
when they put the stiches in, I was beside you the whole time. I held your hand,
cuddled you on my lap, and tried to distract you with my phone or an
interesting story. But in doing all that, I was distracting myself as well.
Sitting in the emergency room all by myself, that’s when
everything flooded over me. The guilt, the over protectedness, the love, and
the fear. I have a very sharp mental image of an IV needled in your arm. How small
your arm looked, and how big the IV needled seemed in comparison.
How could this have happened? How could the school have been
so negligent? Why wasn’t someone watching you?
When they let me back in after the surgery you were a space
case from the drugs they used to put you under. You were dopey and not very responsive.
A little confused. You’d look around the room and weren’t able to focus on
anything for more then a couple of seconds. It was disconcerting to see the ‘you-ness’
of you disappear and be replaced by this groggy stranger.
There’s not much else to say about it. I took you home. Your
mother gushed over you. A week later you took some…questionable….school photos
and that’s about it. You’ve never been shy or self-conscious of your scar. In
the weeks after it happened I didn’t even hear you complain once that it hurt.
In fact we had to try and make sure you didn’t smile (you smile an awful lot)
because we didn’t want to rip the stitches.
But that was last year. What’s new THIS year?
Let’s see. A couple weeks ago you were the ring bearer at your
cousin’s wedding. In your suspenders and bow tie you charmed just about
everyone at the wedding, including your cousin Ayla who was most distraught
when you stopped dancing with her in order to climb a tree and run around the olive
mill.
You started hockey. I’m not sure how this one is going to
pan out yet. You’re very much like your old man was at the same age. When I
didn’t want to do something, I didn’t refuse to do it, I just did a bad job of
it. That way no one could force me to do something I didn’t want to.
I haven’t decided if that’s your approach to hockey yet. Its
new to you. And challenging. For an hour’s game or practice you’re mostly good
for about 45 minutes and then your enthusiasm plummets. You have to go pee, you’ll
invent a phantom pain, or you’ll just skate over to me and tell me you’re done.
But last week you skated using two legs for the first time
ever and I was so excited just watching you do that. I used to take you to family
skate for hours trying to get you to skate with two legs. But you doggedly insisted
on planting your right leg and only pushing with your left. No matter what I did.
I’m trying to help you get over that initial hump of dealing
with something that’s new. Your sister had similar growing pains with hockey at
this age. Your mom and I would run back and forth across the rink, trying to
encourage her to stick with her drills. While all she would do is send us dirty
looks and glower angrily.
But we’ll see the season out. Every time you touch the ice
you’re improving. And who knows how you’ll do by the end of the year? And if
you don’t want to go back? That’s okay too.
Your big passion is art. Its only October and your teacher
has sent us lots of pictures of your drawings.
You like doing school work, which is also a pleasant
surprise. When I restrict your screen time you’re quite happy to work on school
based learning like IXL or Sum Dog. You’ve got your letters and numbers down pat
and you’ve grudgingly acknowledge that you know a couple words.
(I STRONGLY suspect that you can read a LOT of words, but
don’t want to tell anybody because then you’ll be asked to learn even more
words…and that’s just to much work Dad, come on.)
You’re a sweet kid, with a much gentler disposition then
your sister. Although, as you get older and your personality develops I can see
the steel that lurks underneath. You’ll do what you want to do on your time,
thank you very much, and would you please get off my back?
You’re also a tall kid and you’re going to be a tall adult. Like,
maybe me tall. And if that’s the case I just want to apologize in advance. You’ve
got some painful growing pains coming your way and hand\eye coordination will
be absolutely non-existent for awhile.
You’re going through a Transformers\Power Rangers\Mario Brothers\Lego
phase at the moment and are currently drowning in all the toys you’ve been given
as gifts from your birthday.
Anyway, that’s it for me. I’m very aware that you and your
sister are getting older. And sometimes I’ll see you playing independently or
watching TV and my heart will absolutely ache at the sight of you, because that’s
just how much I love you.
I’m trying to be HERE, be present in the moment. To put
aside my electronics and press pause on my own problems. Because we’re only
going to have one chance to do this and I’m worried that in the hustle and
bustle of school and sports and sticking to a schedule that I’m going to miss something
important in your life and fail to recognize how rare this time really is.
So let’s keep this party going, shall we? Let's enjoy it while we can
