Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Pass It On

Today’s (totally optional) Prompt:

What is something you have passed on (on purpose or not) to your children?

Or what did your parents pass on to you?

stream of consciousness sunday

When I was little, about to lose my first tooth, my very best friend told me that when you go to the dentist to have a tooth pulled, they gave you a shot with a GIANT NEEDLE and then used a HUGE drill in your mouth and it HURT LIKE YOU WERE GETTING STABBED.

Maybe it wasn’t so dramatic and all, but it scarred me for life.

I’ve been a bad dental patient all my life. Even though I have great teeth and all, I’ve cried and screamed at, bitten and puked on my dentist.

Looks like I’ve passed on that anxiety to my kid.

This week he had to go to the dentist to get the first of 6 cavities filled. (He obviously has my sister’s teeth…)

He did a great job once he was there, but the night before and morning of, he was a huge ball of anxiety. It made me sad because I couldn’t help him. I didn’t know what to say because, well, I hold the same anxieties.

The best I could do was reassure him that while it would probably be uncomfortable, I would NEVER let them do anything to him that I wouldn’t let them do to me.

Oh, and I told him he’d get $5.

A little bribery never hurt, right?

What have you passed on to your child without meaning to? Or if you don’t have children, what did your parent(s) pass on to you?

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This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
  • Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
  • Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post (in the sidebar). .
  • Link up your post below.
  • Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

 

Mom: The Popsicle Dispenser

There’s very little in this world more heartbreaking as a mother than to watch your child while he is sick.

From experience, the flu is horrible. I’m 99.9% sure I’ve never had it in my life, but I did right before Christmas. It knocked me on my (thankfully very plush) behind for a full week. And that was WITH Tamiflu. Jason and Henry avoided getting it, thank goodness, but it made for a quiet Christmas for sure.

Yesterday, I had a well-check pediatrician appointment scheduled for Henry. But he woke up not feeling too well. He had a slight fever but was looking pretty good.

We hung around the house until time to go to the doctor, during which time he went back to sleep on the sofa and woke up SICK.

Our well-check quickly turned into a VERY SICK check. Great planning on my part, huh?

After sleeping for about 30 minutes waiting for the doctor, he was seen. The original thought was just the “crud” that’s making the rounds. But a booger flu test was done.

Positive. Of course. 

So we left with a sucker, a sticker, and a prescription for Tamiflu and cuddles.

The rest of the day was spent with him sleeping on the sofa. My child who isn’t still except half the time he’s sleeping (the other half he’s wiggling in his sleep) didn’t move for four hours.

My heart broke.

I wanted to, and still want to, fix it.

I want to do more than give him his medicine and make sure he drinks his gatorade. I want to cuddle him but not get the flu myself.

I want to put him in a bubble so he never gets this sick again.

Thankfully, today’s a holiday from school. It’s now a sick day from work for me. Luckily I can squeeze in a little work from home (and some laundry and dishes that have been 110% neglected lately) and not be too far behind when I go back.

I think all moms will agree that having a sick child makes you feel insanely helpless. I wish I could take his place on that sofa and let my body fight the flu. But alas, I can’t.

I can only provide the care he needs and keep dispensing popsicles at his request.

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Related: He’s grown 2.5 inches and gained only 2 pounds since last February. Talk about shooting up and slimming down! That puts him in the 93rd percentile for height for age 8. And in the 55th percentile for height for a 9.5 year old! HAHAHA!

 

Reservations for Two at Waffle House

I had completely forgotten that Waffle House does this fun little thing on Valentine’s Day until our friend posted a link to reservations on Facebook. I looked and our “home” Waffle House (yes, we have one that we call our own) didn’t participate, so she said to come to her “home” Waffle House.

So knowing that Jason would be out of town (save the spears, he bought me a Tiffany pearl bracelet), I made reservations for two.

A date with my Henry.

I picked him up from Primrose, completely oblivious to what we were doing and headed over to the Waffle House. I was feeling rather frumpy because I got caught in the sprinklers at work and had frizzy hair and no time to go fix it at home. He was grumpy because he thought we were going somewhere lame.

When we arrived he was surprised because the whole place was transformed into a romantic restaurant.

White tablecloths. Red candles in crystal holders. Silver trays of candy on the tables. The signature round globe light fixtures were draped in red to create a wonderful atmosphere. And the blinds were pulled so it was dark inside.

Cooks and waitresses were in nice white shirts and plain red caps. Extra staff was on hand, greeting customers and taking their names from the reservation list.

In the corner was a prom-like photo backdrop.

We were seated at the bar (our choice, to let other couples have booths) so we could watch our filet mignon grilled cheese and hashbrowns (scattered and covered) being cooked. photo 1

photo 2We ate slowly and talked about our days. He’d had two Valentine’s Day parties so I could tell he was crashing from all the sugar highs!

Two grilled cheese later for him, and two cups of coffee later for me, we were all done.

They brought us dessert – two delicious cake balls – and a glass of sparkling cider in champagne flutes. What a lovely touch!

photo 3

Our friends came in so we chatted with them for a few minutes before we got our prom pictures taken!

photo 5

 

We snapped one with my phone, but they took one to put in a commemorative sleeve with a mini Polaroid camera. This served two purposes, obviously. One, to give us an instant photograph. The other, to teach my child how to shake a picture to make it develop. (Thanks, Waffle House, for the science lesson)

We left while watching couple after couple file in, some dressed in sequins and suits, some in jeans and t-shirts. Young and old. Regulars and first-timers. Parties of two and parties of eight (4 couples) had a great time.

It was a fabulous evening for me and my funny little Valentine.

I might just ditch the husband again next year for a Valentine’s dinner with Henry again!

photo

**I was not compensated for this post, nor am I a spokesperson for Waffle House. But now I want a waffle.

Believe…

Henry, pushing his hot dogs aside: I’m not very hungry.

Me: Are you ok? Do you feel bad?

Henry, shyly: I’m um, I’m just not hungry.

Me: Are you nervous? 

Henry: Maybe a little. 

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The night before, Henry asked very simply, “What will you do if I get coal for Christmas?”

After questioning him about what he said, he very sheepishly explained that he’s afraid that he’ll be punished if he only gets coal for Christmas from Santa.

He’s afraid he’s not been good enough for Santa to visit with toys.

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We make an appointment to see the Santa at Phipps Plaza in Buckhead in September. People go crazy to get an appointment with him because he’s (not to be completely snotty) the best. He’s the Bentley of Santas.

We scurry out of the house after work to make it down to the mall for a 7:45 appointment. It’s a mad dash, this year complete with forgetting Watkins, our trusty elf. Luckily we had time to turn around and grab him so he could see his boss for a few minutes.

Our evening started with rushing and anxiety and lots of shuffling…

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There were finishing touches put on the list. It’s hard to narrow down all your “wants” to five things that Santa’s allowed to bring you when you’re eight. The line got shorter. We were last. The last ones of the night…

Twinkles in eyes got brighter and under my hand, his heartbeat got faster.

It was his turn.

Meet Santa. Sit. Smile for the camera.

Then there was whispering, smiling, talking to Watkins. There were a few winks from Santa in our direction.

And then the awkward goodbyes.

That included the shot that reminded me that he believes.

He truly believes.

And that’s what makes Christmas magical, friends.

Eight.

Just yesterday, you were born.

A big ole bundle of love. Hope wrapped in a swaddle with a smile that would melt icebergs.

You brought color back into our lives with your amazing personality and larger-than-life antics.

Last night, you were seven. Willing to hug and cuddle one last time.

But this morning, you woke up eight.

Your candles sparkle like your spirit, shining little heart-shaped bokehs around your heart.

I’m blessed to have been chosen to be your mom. You’re the light of my life.

Happy birthday, Henry Love!

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