So I Married a Deaf Man: He ignores me!

I have a preschooler, Camden. My friend has a preschooler, we will call him Nick. They go to the same school. You guessed it. We carpool. She takes. I pick up.

But lately, with all the crazy, Hubs has been doing most of the picking up.

This has been working great for me, because it is one less place I have to run, and Hubs is able to take a break from his studying. The boys get picked up. My friends' baby gets to sleep. Perfect.

Or so we thought. 

Turns out last week, when Hubs went to pick up the boys, Nick tells his teacher that he dislikes Hubs. A lot. To quote, "I hate him!"

Huh?

The teacher called his mom. His mom talked to him. She called me.

It turns out, Nick, for the past 4 months, has thought that Hubs was ignoring him. Nick would say something to Hubs, and Hubs wouldn't answer him.

Of course, it makes sense that a child that young would have a tough time understanding that Hubs' ears don't work. At all. My kids know this because when they yell for dad, he doesn't come. My kids have figured out that it's just better to save your breath.

Nick, not so much.

My friend is amazing. No, really. She is. She was able to teach him what it means to not hear. She explained that Hubs is not choosing to not hear him. He just can't. God made him that way. He seems to understand.

How can I be sure?

Nick signed "Thank You" to Hubs and held his hand to the car the other day.


See...Amazing!

And you thought you were hot!

Things are heating up in the bedroom.

No! Not like that! Why would I blog about that??!! First, it would be weird. Secondly, it would be weird.

I am talking about the temperature. With Spring finally peeking it's lovely head our way, the upper level of our home is peaking as well.

We have fans, thank goodness. In every room. And windows. Gotta love windows. Both wonderful inventions. And the cool thing is when you turn on the fan AND open the windows, on both sides of the house, the unwanted heat is sucked right out of the oven we call "Upstairs."

Except in our room.

You see, I sleep on bed left. Hubs is on bed right. The window on his side of the bed works great, opening with little effort. The window on my side of the bed is slightly out of order. Meaning, it doesn't open. Only closes. That function is pointless because you can't close something that doesn't open. 

But that alone isn't the problem.

For whatever reason, Hubs cannot sleep with the fan on. He says it feels like the wind is slapping his face. Over and over and over again. Really?

"So what's the problem?" you ask?

Hubs is fit as a fiddle, not too much extra weight on him. Plus he sleeps in his undies. Then add the functioning window to the equation. His is a night time oasis. 

Me? I have had 5 kids. Fit as a cello is more like it. Plus, we all know what happens when I sleep in my undies. (Remember?)  It's not good. So I don't do it. Plus, bed left window still non-functioning. Okay, now add no fan, and you have a hot sweaty mama, ready to explode.

That is what happened last night. The sweaty mama, not the exploding.

Then this morning, Hubs says to me, "I was really cold last night. I think we should close the window when we go to sleep."

Exploding!! 

Life....grrrrrr

We interrupt our regular programing for a little thing we call Life.

Why is it that we, as mothers, blame ourselves for everything? Don't we already get blamed for enough?

My 4th child, Camden, has always been small. When I was pregnant with him, my doctor was constantly keeping an eye on him. I had to get stress tests twice a week for the last 3 months of my pregnancy with him. It was glorious. When he was born, at full term, he only weighed 5lbs and some ounces. (Don't judge.) He was healthy.

Since then, his growth has be slow at best, non-existant at times. Last year he went almost 9 months without growing. At. All.

For about 2 years now, we have been testing, watching him closely. He has delayed bone age, meaning at four years old, his bones in his hands were the size of a two year old's. He is very small. When people see him, they think he is 2 years old and say, "Wow! He talks great!" Ummm, yes he does. That's because he is five years old.

He has been tested for siliac, thyroid issues, growth hormone deficiency, heart murmurs. He has seen a pediatrician, endocronologist, cardiologist, nurtritionist, radiologist, and a guy with a really fun monkey outfit. He has been poked, proded, stuck to, drugged, and has a whole butt  load of junk toys to prove it.

We found out that he has a growth factor deficiency. Meaning, according to Stef's interpretation, his body makes growth hormone, but is unable to absorb it. If he continues to grow at the rate he is growing, he will only be 5'2". Not that there is anything wrong with it, but as a boy, that would be hard.

We have been diligently boosting my his calories. Heck, I have zero problem gaining weight. You would think that if he eats what I eat, he would be packing on the pounds in no time.

In his January appointment, he had gained two pounds and grown one whole inch. This was good news, seeing that he hadn't gained any weight or grown any significant amount in 9 months. We were so excited because we were at the point of doing some re-testing and supplimenting. The doctor decided to wait.

Then yesterday at his appointment we found that he has lost weight and has only grown less than 1/4 inch. In three months. Big sigh.........

I can't help asking, "Am I not feeding this boy enough? Should I be giving him something that I am not? What am I doing wrong? I'm his mother. And a mom is supposed to make things all better. Why can't I?" Logically, I know that I can't force his little body to absorb a single calorie. I can't wish five pound and two inches onto his tiny frame. And I feed him right along side my other children and they aren't having the same issue. And yet I frett, and blame, and mull and feel guilty.

Eventually we will figure it out. Eventually. But if we wait too long we will ruin the rest of his life. He will be in a carseat until he is 11. No girl will want to go out with him because despite his rugged good looks, he only comes up to their shoulders. You see the problem?

Mommy guilt. Leave me alone, already!!!

If it wasn't for the CHEESE

I once liked this guy....

He would look for me after class.

He would ask me to dinner.

He invited me to watch basketball game at his house. Who cares that I don't really like basketball. At all. Least favorite sport to watch....okay, not totally true. Wrestling is number one. Basketball is a close second.

Then I invited him to dinner at my house. My sister and I made enchiladas. They were so good! Way better than basketball. He took one bite and proceeded to rave about how great it was. He took another bite, this time leaving a dangling string of cheese on his chin. My sister busted out laughing so much that she had to leave.

I noticed her, then the cheesy chin and then tried, unsuccessfully, to suck in my cheeks and not laugh. I would have said something to him immediately, but my sister had made it extremely awkward to do so. I eventually told him that he had a dangler.

He got real quiet after that.

He didn't call me after that. He didn't look for me in the halls. He didn't invite me to his place.

I guess not everyone likes enchiladas.



Linking up with Jen's ABC Thursday and MamaKat's Writer's Workshop.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Look! It's ringing!

When I go out of town, I like to check in with the kids now and then to make sure they miss me, that they are eating, doing homework, miss me, etc.

In the past this has worked out great. That was back when we actually remembered to put the phones on their chargers. Back when child number one was excited about answering the phone. Back when actually talking to a person was important.

For whatever reason, this time around it was so hard to get hold of my kids. I would call and no-one would answer. Hello!! There are five of you there who can hear!!

I finally caught them Friday morning about 2 minutes before my 11 year starts screaming at everyone to get out the door and into the car because he doesn't want to be late before it was time to head to school. I briefly spoke with all of them, except my baby, Briggy.

About 10 minutes later I get a text from Hubs to call Briggy. Super!

I call. No answer. I call again. Nothing.

I text Hubs, "Hey, Briggy doesn't know how to answer the phone. You are going to have to answer it for him."

Hubs: "Okay. Go ahead and call again. We are ready."

I call. No answer. I call again. No answer.

Me: "I am calling. You need to push the 'Talk' button, then hand the phone to Briggy."

Hubs: "Did you call? Call again. We are waiting."

I call. No answer. I call again. Still no answer.

Me: "Where are you? I have called and called. Do you have the phone with you? Are you watching it? Do you see me calling?"

Hubs: "I'm holding the phone, in my hands, but it didn't vibrate when you called."

This was funny to me for two reasons. What house has a phone that vibrates? Does yours? Not mine. But Hubs wouldn't know this because he NEVER uses this phone. Why would he? I mean really. Except when I need him to answer it and give it to my child....and that has happened once. Last week.

Secondly, he was holding the phone. In. His. Hand. And he still didn't know it was ringing.

If that ain't Deaf...

...I don't know what is.

I''m Back

Good golly, Miss Molly! It has been a while.

I am invigorated! I am renewed. I am fresh. (Don't tell Hubs.) Isn't it amazing what a few days away from responsibility can do for a mother.

I don't hate my children. Quite the opposite. Love them dearly. To death. Mine. But it was so nice to not have to make snacks, or lunches, or worry about homework, and Scouts and piano lessons, and birthday parties and...and...and...

It was glorious!

I now have myself a notebook filled with quotes,a mind filled with goals, and a heart filled with God. Who could ask for more?

Ummm...that would be me.

Remember, even though I was away from kids, it wasn't a week for sleep. Oh, no. I was with my mom and my sisters, and it was pretty much a late night every night.

One night, I think I made it to bed by 1am only to receive a text from Hubs at 5:30. In. The. Morning. What was so important that it couldn't wait until awake time? "I'm going to buy Brody a baseball mitt." and ""We caught our third mouse." Really? No, really? 5:30am.

His defense? "I thought it was 6:30am." That was his defense? He should have just plead guilty.

The point of this tangent is, there was very little sleep.

So, on Sunday night when I do my usual Sunday night 5 minutes lay-by's (I lay [lie?] by each child for about 5 minutes), I crashed in my daughter's bed at about 8:30pm. I briefly woke up at 2:30am to use the restroom and learned that Usama bin Laden (I always thought it was Osama, but whatever) was gone forever. Then I headed off to bed...again.

I slept until 6:30am.

That is 10 hours, people. Yes, I know. Hubs would call me lazy for lying (laying??) in my bed doing nothing. But I can't tell you how much sleep...real sleep... long hybernating sleep...did for me. I was able to get so much done today, I amazed even myself.

You should see my bathroom.

You know you're at Women's Conference....

You know you are at Women's Conference if.....

...you have 30 minutes to walk across campus to maybe get into the next class and your treck starts with these:

...one day you see scenes like this

...and then next day you get this.

...you see signs like these on all the men's bathrooms.

....you stay up late into the night with these people.

...if you eat the Bookstore fudge so fast you don't have time to take a picture of it.

(Insert Picture here)

...because you are surrounded by thousands of amazing women. Don't believe me? Just look!

It was amazing, uplifting, fun and invigorating! See ya next year!!