good grief, loss of parent, self-discovery

The Force

Last night was date night. It was rather exceptional. Of course any time a stay-at-home Mom showers and puts on make-up makes an evening exceptional. This was exceptional for other reasons. Mad Dog took me to see Star Wars in Concert. I loved it.

The whole outing made me feel loved and special. Only someone who knows me well (like my husband) would know to take me to something like this. Even if the show was lame (which it was not) I felt the night was a success because he recognized my love of all things Star Wars. Thank you Mad Dog. Han Solo’s got nothing on you (except maybe the Millennium Falcon)!

I had a moment as the opening and highly recognizable crescendo of Star Wars theme music kicked off the show and my heart welled up and broke a little. I have these moments in my life that I off-handedly think, ‘can’t wait to tell my Mom about this’. The thought leaves my brain before my heart has a chance to remind it that she’s not here anymore. When it happens it knocks the wind out of my lungs and I miss her so much everything hurts.

A Mom knows you almost better than you know yourself (that is if you are lucky enough to have a kind and compassionate variety such as myself). She would have gotten a huge kick out of hearing about my Star Wars experience. She was there as I grew up and my sister and I watched Star Wars dozens of times. She respected the fact that Han Solo was my first love. She knew the force was strong in me and loved me anyway.

Star WarsI know on some level she sees my life and is part of it everyday. She knows I had a great time on my date and that the music of the trilogy I love so much moved me. Although she is no longer physically tangible to me, I can feel her with me in the deep pause between life’s moments. I haven’t totally accepted that she is gone. I have totally accepted that she knew me and loved me like only a mother could. And that is a force all unto its own.

eyesight, health, mommyhood

Eye Surgery: Take Two

silly face twoWe are on the eve of the second surgery so I am posting this the night before. The process leading up to this has been much calmer since we know exactly what to expect. Full Speed is becoming a seasoned pro at eye drops and honestly that is half the battle. Poor guy is still getting two drops twice a day in his right eye. “The yellow one burns, Mommy,” he says each time we do them. We have progressed from long ago when I would have to straddle him to keep his arms locked in place and peel his eyelids back to get drops of any sort in. Now, he sits pleasantly on our counter, tilts his head back and I plop the drops in without incident. Maturity and growth are a beautiful thing. That is good because soon we will be starting with a series of drops for several weeks with his left eye.

The afternoon for Full Speed’s pre-op appointment ended up dragging on for over four hours before all was said and done. The doctor did her best to configure a most likely eyeglass prescription for Full Speed that she wanted us to get to an optometrist ASAP. This is her best guess until the completion of the second surgery and subsequent eyesight tests are done on Full Speed. It was already four in the afternoon. Full Speed and I booked it to the optometrist’s and made it (everything closes early in Florida). The staff marveled at his prescription’s gigantic leap from – 30 to +7.5. The ladies were in such a titter that they forgot to measure his head for his frames before we headed out the door (mistake!).

Full Speed was already done with his day. He had lost patience even when we were with our doctor (whom he adores and calls his ‘girlfriend’). He was tired of sitting and waiting. He had sat patiently (kind of) while we picked out new frames at the optometrist’s. I could sense he was on the edge of losing it. The reason he held it together is because he knew he was going to have another date at Applebee’s with his Mom. So we get the frames picked out and leave all the fussing eye-people behind and make the drive over to Applebee’s. No sooner did we walk in the door, my cell phone rings. They need us to come back to get the forgotten measurements.

You should have seen the dark cloud that descended on Full Speed’s face. He was NOT happy. We head back and get the measurements needed but he is aloof with the fawning staff and at times, down-right rude (I completely understood because it was almost six o’clock at this point). Before we leave for the second time I pointedly ask, “Do you have everything you need? Because if you don’t and we have to come back, I don’t know what that will do to Full Speed.”

They assured me all was complete. We finally get to Applebee’s, have our table and drinks, and our orders were in. It had been such a long afternoon and a long time since a potty-break, so we left our drinks and headed to the bathroom. When we return to our table our drinks are gone. They bussed our table and we hadn’t even consumed anything. Not even a drop of our beverages. It doesn’t help that our waiter is a good ten years younger than me, brings me the wrong order and has to keep saying ‘sorry ma’am’ over and over. I felt like I was one-hundred and twenty seven years old!

Eventually Full Speed and I went on to have a lovely date. He even told me that he looked forward to it all day. “I couldn’t wait to have a date with my favorite woman in the whole world. You, Mommy.” I’m quoting him exactly. That’s worth all the ‘sorry ma’ams’ in the world.

It is now close to bedtime and I just gave Full Speed his last allowed food until the surgery is complete. He picked Oreos. I would have let him have pretty much anything he wanted. T.Puzzle is at Grandma and Grandpa’s so all is quiet. Full Speed is playing with cars and we are waiting for Mad Dog to get home (I said Full Speed could wait up for him if he was good and let’s face it, after all the nonsense today, he earned it).

I’m going to bed tonight with many prayers of thanks in my heart. I am thankful for the excellent medical care that we have access to and the hopeful certainty Full Speed will come through the other side of surgery with much improved vision in his left eye. I thank my loyal readers for their support that continues to inspire me. Most of all, I thank God (or whoever may be out there) for giving me an amazingly spirited, gift of a child (and a spare to boot). Good night!