When AJ was little, he had mad empathy. When other babies would cry, he would wail like crazy. This has never left him and I’m inclined to believe it’s part of his temperament. He’s always been the caretaker in this house, and I think it’s because he sees that when one of us is sick, we all take care of that person. It is how we handle sickness or sadness or stress. Since he was very tiny, he would play the nursemaid when Leon or I was sick. I still remember him fetching me lukewarm water in the bathroom cup when I was nursing a migraine because he’d seen Leon bring me water for my aspirin. I believe he was as young as 3 when he started.
When Leon or I am sick, he hates to go to school and when he is here, he will bring ice packs, aspirin, wet washcloths and as many hugs, kisses and cuddles as we will take. There are many nights that he went to bed on a Friday night at 7:30 because I was sick with a migraine and laying there. He would lay next to me, patting my hand, and would eventually drift off.
There is a certain sense of guilt that comes with having chronic pain–that burden that you place on the people around you. The feelings that you may have of feeling like less of a person some days often express themselves at the weakest moments and not always in the best of ways. They often present in anger, misery or irritability. AJ is immune to that when someone is sick.
This isn’t to say that he doesn’t have his egocentric “me me me” side, because he certainly does, but it has never been as strong as I expected. And I’m watching him shed it rapidly and sooner than the developmental scales predict and I wonder about the kind of man he’ll become, and how quickly it will happen. Will I ever be ready for it? People keep telling me to have more children. My guess is that they recognize that there is so much love within me for this little guy that it breaks me.
I worry less about it when I see that I haven’t done an awful job and that my health issues haven’t affected him so dramatically. As he was going to bed tonight, he kissed my cheek, hugged me tightly and said, “I hope you feel better tomorrow, mama.” Then, he gave me the dimpled grin that melts my heart and he and his hoppy little weiner dog went to sleep.
While I’m aware that my title is antagonistic and I’m setting myself up for trolls, I would be remiss if I lied about my experience at the U.S. Cellular field. I’m also aware that most of our experiences are made up of our perceptions, so I’m going to make the rudeness short and then tell you about the great experience I had with my family on Labor Day weekend.
Leon is a huge Boston Red Sox fan. When I met him, he loved the Mets, but I watched him slowly start to root for the underdogs in the league, the Red Sox. When they won the World Series, I don’t doubt for a minute that it was one of the best days of his life. He’d never been able to see them play in person and, on Labor Day weekend, it was going to be a Sox vs. Sox showdown in Chicago. Chicago is only 8 hours from us and only 3 hours from my family. It seemed like a no-brainer to swing by, grab them, and make a family weekend of Labor Day weekend.
As it was only a week before my 30th birthday, there was time for some birthday celebration in there, as well, so my mom and sister were more than down for the trip. We stayed at the Hyatt, in a beautiful room. There were some snafus with the room, which I’ll address later in this blog, but, for the most part, our trip was snag free. Leon decided to go to the game early to see if he could get some autographs and watch batting practice.
What he didn’t know was that, since he had seats in the upper level, security wouldn’t let him down to get close to the players. Papi (Ortiz) was signing autographs and did this for almost 20 minutes solid while Leon had to watch and be sad that he’d gone with the upper level seats. It was pathetic.
You’d think the upper level seats would be poor viewing seats, but they were actually awesome. We were under the shade and the wind was blowing nicely. It was about 71 degrees, give or take, and most of the Red Sox fans were in the upper deck.
Unfortunately, there were also a lot of drunk White Sox fans who made it a point to yell not only at the players, but at the Red Sox fans with a belligerence that was unmatched. One comment we heard from a child was “Take the needle out of your arm, Ortiz!” and from his father, “They didn’t test for ‘roids in 2004!” I was overwhelmed.
When the Red Sox fans would start to chant, the White Sox fans would shout “White” over the “Red” every time. When we’d clap, they’d boo. Frankly, I was a little shocked by the poor behavior. It didn’t take over the game, however. There were some key moments that I won’t forget that were noteworthy here.
At our second game, there was a father that sat in front of us. He didn’t stop smiling for the first five innings and, when he sat down, he proudly announced to the people next to him, that it was his little girl’s first ever White Sox game. She was three and wearing an adorable pink tutu White Sox outfit. She grinned throughout the game and managed to keep her eyes totally off the field. She would look at the people around her and ask their names. Her dad was so proud to have her there that I thought his face would crack. Of course, it was such a Hallmark moment that my baby heart almost teared up and bawled right there. Stupid emotions.
There was also the Russian that sat next to us. We were on the very top row of the stadium during our first game there. This man often spoke to his companions and we had no idea what he was saying, but every now and then, you would hear him yell, “YOOOOOOOOOUUUUKKKK!” (chanting for first baseman Kevin Youkilis) or “Go, Red Sox” in heavily accented voice. When they would do well, he would cheer loudly.
After the game, even when the Red Sox lost, the sense of camaraderie was strong. AJ was wearing his shirt, as was Leon, and a couple that we didn’t know came up to him and gave him the thumbs up. He was confused by this, as 8-year olds know better than to talk to strangers, but he understood that when you root for a team, you are part of a new club.
Overall, yes, the White Sox fans could have behaved better. I’m pretty sure I was spit upon at least twice, but I’m going to give the old woman behind me the benefit of the doubt that she just has trouble controlling her spit. The best part of my experience was being with my family and even if I didn’t enjoy the stadium, I was glad for the chance to be with them.
On Wednesday, I picked up a subdued AJ from school and prepared to bring him home. I expected him to be jubilant as he’d spent all day on a field trip and it was his last full day of school for for 3 months! As a child, I remembered the last week of school as being an exciting time full of joy and the thrill of the upcoming summer. When I asked AJ if he was excited about his last day of school being Thursday, though, I watched his lip wobble and he looked at his feet. Sometimes I forget that he’s still a little guy because he’s so tall.
“Yes. No. I don’t know, maybe.”
Color me confused because this is not the reaction I would have if I was in my last week of school. Most of his classmates cannot wait to get out of school. Earlier in the week, he’d asked me if he could get his teacher, Mrs. C, a card and I’d said yes. After Leon came home from work, we headed to Target, to get some necessities, some non-necessities and the card for Mrs. C.
Immediately, after arriving at home from the store, AJ began digging in the sack for his card for Mrs. C. I asked him to write her a short note and then sign it. When he showed it to me, I immediately saw why he was so sad to be leaving school.
Thank you for all you did for us this year. Your the best teacher. In the world. don’t leave But say goodby .
From,
AJ
(all spelling errors, punctuation and smilies are AJ’s)
He asked me to not take a picture of his writing, but even the writing looked sad on the card. He looked at me and whispered that he “didn’t want to leave Mrs. C” and that he would “miss her so much.”
I’ve mentioned before that this particular teacher made a huge impact on my child. The knowledge that he has is that he will either have a teacher that understands him and his learning style or he won’t. I think there is quite a bit of fear that he will have a teacher that doesn’t and that he will be in the same position he occupied in K-1, where the teachers often misunderstood him.
As a mom, it’s time for me to step in and remind him that he was lucky to have this teacher while he did and that she was precious. However, we’ve learned that he is capable of putting forth a great effort and making some amazing changes in himself that serve him well no matter who he has as a teacher. He will still be in the same school and this teacher will be loving and supportive of him regardless of whether or not he is in her classroom. We will say goodbye gently and lovingly and remember what she has taught him about himself and life and tackling challenges that seem insurmountable. I cannot thank her enough for teaching him something that I could not teach him at the time.
It truly takes a community to raise a child. I’m thankful for the one in which I live. They are wonderful people.
Today, I was reading Jen’s blog (which, if you haven’t read it, you should) on her child’s birthday party and the quandary she is in due to the creativity of her son and his having invited most of the school and the neighboring 3 counties (my author liberty) to his birthday party.
When I finished reading I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. Better her than me, I thought to myself. Jen will likely defriend me at this point, and rightfully so, as I should be commiserating with her, but in the age of Chuck-e-Cheese, I’m just thankful I didn’t get roped into this particular dilemna.
AJ has never had a large party. When I go to adult parties, other parents are very quick to judge me when I state this fact. The response is usually a tightening of the lips, a shake of the head and a “but, don’t you think he’s missing out?” or some equally insane statement. If you just relaxed your lips, stopped shaking your head and closed your mouth, then we need to talk in a very serious way.
As a toddler, a big party would have been more for the adults. Consider the statement “Aw, look at all the cute little ones in their cute little pointy hats and their faces all smooshed with cake. Isn’t it precious?” That cute, precious, pointy party would have cost about $200 and he would have ended up with a bunch of presents that would have put people out of grocery money. For the $200, we could buy him presents and those people could buy their groceries. So, we chose to have small parties, spend less than $25 (usually) on a party for him, us, family and close friends and spend a bit on presents (not $200, for the record).
As he gets older, now 8, we still don’t do big parties. This year, we asked what he would like to do on his birthday. He chose to see a movie. That gets expensive with many people, so the compromise was that he could choose ONE friend to take to the movie and then we’d do the bells and whistles for them: ANYTHING they wanted from the snack bar and they got to pick any G rated movie they wanted to see. You would think they died and went to high fructose corn syrup heaven. Before the movie, they went to the McDonald’s and ate dinner and played in the playland for two hours. AJ said it was “the best birthday ever!” and so did his friend.
By keeping his party expectations low, we don’t have to worry about upsets. Sure, he like attending birthday parties, but he also is an introvert who likes a small get together, too. He’d rather have presents and get to do whatever he wants on his day than a 2 hour party.
Another family we know did something similar. They did the big Chuck-e-Cheese party, but they invited family and they allowed their child to choose one kid to come as a guest (AJ) and so they saved money on tokens and all the extras and the child still got the special feeling that a kid gets from doing all the birthday stuff at Chuck-e-Cheese.
To Jen, what about doing a lollipop lottery? Get some dum dums and whoever gets the dum dums with a mark on them gets to come to your 3-4 person party? To everyone else, I’m just glad I’m still worrying about this kind of thing instead of beer parties.
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
You may also leave a voicemail at (615) 807-0376. I do not return voicemail, but I sure like hearing from you.
We are members of one great body. Nature planted in us a mutual love, and fitted us for a social life. We must consider that we were born for the good of the whole.
Lucius Annaeus Seneca
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When AJ was little, he had mad empathy. When other babies would cry, he would wail like crazy. This has never left him and I’m inclined to believe it’s part of his temperament. He’s always been the caretaker in this house, and I think it’s because he sees that when one of us is sick, we all take care of that person. It is how we handle sickness or sadness or stress. Since he was very tiny, he would play the nursemaid when Leon or I was sick. I still remember him fetching me lukewarm water in the bathroom cup when I was nursing a migraine because he’d seen Leon bring me water for my aspirin. I believe he was as young as 3 when he started. 
. 
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
