sueeeus

If you were, oh, say, a two and three fourths year old boy who has had some scary nights now and again, and you came home to find this in your room, what would you think?

You might think that your mother was a magical genie who could, in the span of a lunch break, and with the help of Craig’s List, a fortuitous recent trip to the ATM, and a gallon of gas in the minivan, manage to find, buy, load, unload, sanitize, and assemble THIS!

Yes, it’s plastic. Which means it’s easy to clean. I know, I know. Carbon footprint, and all that. But it’s recycled. There’s no telling how many parents have encouraged their little ones to make it through the night in their own room with this particular bait. When the novelty fades or he outgrows it, whichever comes first, this item will find its way to another home, to hopefully make another child’s life just a wee bit more magical.

And my precious little boy child will have to manage some impressive somnolent contortions to fall out of this contraption. I’m only a bit concerned that he’s already too big for it. Nevertheless, I think he will be delighted, if only for a moment.

A piercing scream. I rip the breathing apparatus from my face and leap from the bed as my child emits another shrill, piercing scream. It’s 3 a.m. Hearts pounding. Holding him close. Comforting him. A bad dream? A spider on his face? I tear his bedding apart, looking for any creepy crawly evidence. None found. Could it have been the wispy edge of the curtain, brushing against his face? Possibly. He sleeps like a helicopter. His head may be on the pillow when first he falls, but through the night he turns and twists and ends up under the bed, half on, half off, or upside down. There’s no telling. This night his face was at the foot, near where the curtains fall. It could have been the tickle of the wispy light drapes on his face. Or was it truly a night terror?

Such a troubling start to a Monday morning. My heart aches for what could cause him such terror. Driving back from daycare, through the fog in my brain, I catch a moment of the morning radio show. Health clips. The topic? Night terrors. The doctor explains that virtually all children who experience night terrors are well-adjusted, and that it doesn’t indicate issues with their mental and emotional health. Moreover, children seldom remember the night terror after they fall back asleep.

It was like manna from heaven. Perfect words at the perfect time to set an anxious mother’s heart at ease.

And there’s even better news. We’ve been making great strides in the potty training endeavor. At the ripe age of two and three fourths, he’s starting to get it.

Of course we make a big production of it.

First, the announcement.

“Ohhhhhhhh, I have to go POTTTTTTTTT-EEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

And then we spring into action. “Hurry!” “Try to hold it ’til we get there!” “Let’s get those pants off!” “Hurry!”

And the chorus. “Hurry!!! Hurry! Hurry!!!”

Sometimes there’s a struggle over wanting to bring a companion toy along for the event. Then there’s the decision as to whether to use the stool or not. Or which stool to use. Or whether to use the potty seat, or not. Or whether to have the seat up or down. He used to immediately begin unrolling the toilet paper. Because that is SO much fun. But now he just hands me the roll. He’s conditioned, since I’ve taken it away from him so many times. Often he’ll change his mind about the seat and stool configuration, so he will stand up and insist on changing things up. And sometimes, he’ll actually go. He finds it quite intriguing. As it is.

“WOOK!!!”

While I’m on the subject of memory lane.

One thing an ex used to say. “I paid my dues.”

As if a few years of self-sacrifice entitle one to a lifetime free of any further responsibility.

Hello? What are dues? Life is responsibility. It doesn’t stop until we’re dead. How is it that there comes to be a roof over one’s head, food on one’s plate, a shirt on one’s back?

As parents, we provide these things for our children. When they are grown, off they go to provide these for themselves and for their children. It’s the way of the world.

Grow up.

Ever the hard-nosed biddy.

I marvel at those people who think the world, or somebody, owes them something. I wonder where they get that notion, and so deeply embedded at that.

I generally don’t understand the whole influenza inoculation buzz that surfaces every fall. I decided to get the shot, one year, several years ago. I then proceeded to get sick. Very sick. Sicker than I’d been in a very, very, very long time. There are many who will say it’s only a coincidence and one can’t get flu from the shot because the virus is dead. However. I was very sick. With flu. The other argument is that the shot can’t address all strains. Well, if there are a bazillion strains, what good is it to guess at which one is or will be prevalent? It seems like a shot in the dark. So I don’t get vaccinated for flu any more.

Being a mother, I now feel a bit guilty about it. As though I have a parental obligation to have my youngster inoculated.

I’m torn.

He has relatively low exposure to the outside world at this point. The daycare kids currently don’t have elder siblings circulating in school, collecting and transmitting all manner of microscopic ickiness. He plays hard and gets lots of fresh air. He eats well (in general). He is robust. I’m not planning to take him in for a shot. But I’m feeling guilty about it.

It feels good to feel good.  But I am discovering that it’s not all smooth sailing, navigating this slippery slope of mood stabilization.  It’s been about 4 weeks now, and I’ve begun noticing tightness in my jaw, as though I’m unconsciously clenching it, all day long.  It’s a bit unnerving.  It’s like a displaced anxiety.  Take it away from one place and it pops out another.  I don’t like it. 

A cursory Google search yields numerous accounts of jaw clenching as a side-effect of SSRIs and SNRIs.  Even more alarming are the scattered accounts of tics and twitches that may in some cases become permanent.  It frightens me.

I was told it takes 4-6 weeks to realize the full benefit of this medication, so I think I will continue with it this month.  If the jaw tightness remains, I think I will refill one more month on the prescription and use it to gradually taper off.  Because I’ve also read that side-effects from discontinuation are unpleasant.

I wonder if having this reminder of what it feels like to feel good will act as a neural reference point, and help me to attain that frame of mind without brain chemical interference.  I hope so.  I’m somewhat torn.  I want to continue feeling bright and good, but this involuntary jaw clenching has got to go.  It’s mere presence causes anxiety, which defeats the purpose of the medication.

It just feels so good to feel good.  I wish it didn’t come at this price.