"Lots to Think About"

Yesterday, I couldn't find my little man. He wasn't in his room, in the front room, downstairs, bathroom. I was starting to panic. My daughter said "He's out there" and pointed to the backyard. I looked out and he was just sitting on the patio steps.

"What'cha doing," I asked.

"Just thinking. I have lots to think about," he said.

I just gave him a hug and went back inside, knowing that the quiet was what he needed. Throughout the evening, I got multiple hugs and "I love you mommy" from him. He clearly had a lot on his mind.

This morning, as he was getting dressed, I heard him crying. I went in and he had his face in his hands. "What's wrong," I inquired. "My sock isn't going on right!"

I hugged him again, helped him get the sock on, followed by the shoes and told him I loved him.

But really what I want to do is cry right along with him. How many times have I cried because a hair was out of place, a shoe rubbed me wrong, my juice spilled at breakfast or I couldn't find something? I know how it feels to have so much "to think about" that you just can't think anymore. Everything is hard, hurts and sucks. There were days during my mom's worst health crises that I cried just standing in line at the store. People looked at me like I should be in a straight jacket.

The immunologist determined the other day that too much of the immunoglobulin was given to our son - he prescribed the maximum dosage for our son's weight and age, rather than starting slow and working up. He said that if we hadn't been proactive parents and raced him to the ER, that his kidneys might have failed. There's something to think about. Or try not to.

Now, we're faced with the upcoming holiday "stuff" - and scheduling his next, lower dosage sometime the week after Christmas. We go into it knowing that he very well could have the same reaction. He knows it, too. And I can't blame him for crying about his sock.

What he doesn't know is that I cry too, because I do it when he's not looking - maybe that's the wrong approach. Maybe if he knows that I worry too, he'll feel better.

This parenting stuff is HARD.