I’m not feeling super proud of myself in the motherhood department right now.
Don’t get all huffy and call CPS yet either……..I didn’t “forget” to feed the kids or “encourage” them to “play” in heavy oncoming traffic.
Just hear me out for a second.
Monchichi, my delicate child, will forever invoke in me the cruelest fears, the most potent worries. Because we’ve lived it. Over and over again. He is the weak one. I hate seeing that in print, but if we’re gonna get all Darwin about it, then yes, he is not the fittest.
Superman is, well, Superman compared to his brother. He runs fast, he reads books, he talks. He is a superhero in terms of his powers when we pit him against his older brother.
But see….that’s part of the problem.
I get so wrapped up in what he can do, I don’t pay enough attention to the obstacles that he faces.
And that’s not very fair, is it?
Tonight, when he was in the tub, he refused to let his knees touch the water. I walked into the bathroom, ready to get all Joan Crawford on his ass, and for the first time in maybe weeks took a long hard look at his legs and realized that he has been furiously scratching himself to death because of his ezcema.
I bet you didn’t even KNOW he has eczema!
Well he does!
And it’s all flared up and so I lathered him up in good old fashioned steriod infused cream and am sitting at the table waiting patiently for his voice to change into something akin to Barry White. Which the girls in Kindergarten may not appreciate, but the single teachers might.
Anyway, so it hit me, smacked me really, that I need to whine more about him, and not just about Monchichi. I know eczema isn’t autism, but hell, he should get some quality air time too, don’t you think?
Now the question is, have I redeemed myself? I dedicated an entire blog post, plus made him top ramen noodles, WITH butter, and let him eat it IN his bed, while watching a cartoon, at 8:45 p.m.
Let me know that you feel sorry for him too.
That might help.