Huffing Bees

I think it’s about time I introduce you to another member of our household. Bees. Bees the bear.

He’s seen better days. Love Monster got him from one of my best friends days after she was born. You never know which thing they get will become THE ONE. Bees did. 

Then.

And now.

 He’s about to disintegrate. He’s already lost his balls. (The balls in his feet sickos.) His armpits have been stitched up countless times. He can no longer withstand the washing machine so fabreeze is our friend.  And truthfully it’s best we can’t wash him too much. LM hates it when he doesn’t smell like himself.

“I need to smell him!!!!” then Love Monster huffs him like a fume addict huffs their static cling spray before getting out of the car for school. It brings her so much comfort. He’s as real and important to her as anyone in our family. And I have to admit he’s as real to me too.

So Love Monster, tell me, what is it about Bees that makes him so special?

He’s soft. I like smelling him.

Cool. What do you like doing with him?

I like sleeping with him a lot.

Gonna let that elephant of a joke in the room go. Anything else you’d like us to know about Bees?

He’s allergic to pepper. He told me so.

That’s another thing. He talks. Not like pull a string and he’ll talk. LM is his ventriloquist. His voice sounds like a raspy old vaudevillian woman’s which makes sense because he stars in their clown shows often times. I could have a made a killing off the girls in the early 1900’s. Their show rocks by those standards.

He’s traveled with us to Chicago. He is her guy. Her best friend. Her keeper of secrets. But she also knows the limits. He only comes in the car or stays at home. No where else. This because he’s getting too tattered and because we’ve had one too many emergencies because we left him somewhere. And that is a disaster. No matter what time or where we are, he must be retrieved.

It’s an interesting phenomenon, I think, when your kid has that lovie that they attach too. (Or maybe I just have too much time on my hands.) I find nothing wrong with it. We adults have things we are attached to. It might not be a teddy bear. Maybe it’s our computer, favorite book, that perfectly worn in tee-shirt. It’s our stress reliever. Bees gives LM that little bit of comfort that she needs sometimes. Bees was the first being she loved, outside her papa and I. Her first sibling, before Smirker came into this world. He’s pretty special. I hate to see his tatters and frays, but Love Monster doesn’t mind them. It means he loves me, she told me once. Yes it does.

Smirker minus her Red Hot Chili Pepper

My tummy hurts.

Smirker came into my room every hour starting at midnight on May 2.

My tummy hurts.

How many times do we hear that as parents? A lot. It could be anything. Gas. A bad piece of cheese. A ploy to get into mama’s bed, which is what I was betting on that night. In the morning she had a fever and still was insistent on the tummy pain. My fiancé said “Hmmm that could be the appendix.” Nah. I thought. Couldn’t be. I’ll keep her here at work from home today. She’ll probably poop out her tummy trouble. But my fiancé’s words nagged in my head. My girl looked miserable, but none of the usual flu-like stomach symptoms. Then she said something that sealed the deal. “I need to go doctor.” She hates the doctor. “I need to go doctor, Mama.” I them called right away.

The pediatrician sent us to the ER after she asked Smirker where her tummy hurt and she pointed to the right side of her belly every time. I stopped and home and grabbed essentials: ipad, computer, chargers, Dora blanket, lambie, monkey and cow. And off to the ER we went.

We valeted. (How L.A. are we?) and waited. Smirker’s dad met us there and finally they  called her in to get her vitals. I braced myself for this to go badly. She sees scrubs, she screams in terror. But she was good as can be and it worried me. Is she feeling that horrible? Well after looking at her it was a combo of two things. She felt like shit. That was for sure. But she had dreamy eyes.

“She is so good!” The tech getting her blood pressure said. Yeah for you. He was young and cute and she was flirting hard core. She bat her lashes. For real. Where do they learn this??? Oy. That’s my girl.

Then we are put in an ER room. And they say it’s time for an IV. She needs fluids. She screamed and cried while they got the IV in. Where was hot tech guy when we needed him??? Meanwhile they were trying to distract me with ER forms. I could barely fill them out. I clutched the clipboard to my chest, sort of scrawled out some info and stared at Smirker. The nurse asked me if I was sketching. Looking at my stance that’s what it looked like. Weird moment. Nope. Just freaking out my three year old is in the ER and getting needles shoved in her. They put her in a space koala hospital gown, which she liked because it was purple. And we waited for them to take us up to get an ultrasound. Then we would get some answers.

They wheeled in an ancient TV and VCR and we watched Pocahontas before finally she had to pee! Urine sample time! Whoo hoo!. She thought it was silly that they wanted her pee, but it went well. Finally they were ready for her ultrasound. They pushed Smirker and her dad in a wheelchair up to the ultrasound room. I practically ran to keep up. (Those transport guys are fast!) I lay with her in the bed while they gooeyed up her stomach with the ultrasound thingy. Smirker was so good. She kept saying, “Make me better? Make me better?” Yeah babe soon. The ultrasound tech was tight lipped as they usually are. And we went back to our room to wait once more for the doc’s results.

About an hour later, the surgical resident came in and said, “Yes we need to take her appendix out. Rare in someone this young.”

This whole time I was sure they would send us home. I was sure they’d say, ahhh she’s just constipated. But nope. My little three-year-old is going to have surgery. And yes I know this is routine. This is the appendix for godsake.  This is common. But I did not like this one bit. Surgery was scheduled for 9:00pm. They don’t want to take a chance that the appendix might burst. So officially checked in we were.

Checking into her hospital room was surreal. The last time I was in a room like this was when I delivered her. And here we were again.

I ran home while her dad stayed with her. I showered and grabbed a change of clothes. My fiancé had a bag packed for me and told me to tell Smirker that he bought “rainbow” for her. (She’s addicted to Rainbow sherbet.) They took us on a ride down to the surgical ward. Smirks liked riding in her bed. I rode with her. She giggled a lot. I think she was nervous. We waited by the nurse’s station. They doted on her. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but every single person Smirks has met is enamored. Well she is the freakin cutest! They hook her up with a stuffed cat and an ipad and she watches old Wile E Coyote cartoons.

Then the anesthesiologist comes and says. “Ok. I’m going to give her some happy juice so she’s ok when we take her away from you.” (PASS THAT HAPPY JUICE OVER HERE PLEASE!)

The happy juice is awesome. I can tell. Smirker takes her new cat and proceeds to make him pee on my face. “Mama, cat pee on your face!” The nurses laugh and say it must be the before surgery cocktail, but little do they know this is the normal shit she would say. Then they say it’s time to go. I climb out of the bed and they push her down the hall. She waves goodbye deliriously like she was off to the fair. I could practically see the pinwheel in her hand. Her dad and I went to the waiting room and set our clocks for one hour. And we watch that bloody ass Hannibal TV show for some fucked up reason.

The surgeon comes out (who is AWESOME). “It went perfectly. Her appendix needed to be out that’s for sure. But we caught it before it burst. It was a little red hot chili pepper.”

My first thought was, Can I take it home? But I told myself to let that idea go.

Then they let me go into recovery. This is a new thing I think. They let parents of small kids go in now. I didn’t like it in there. The vibe is strange. I see Smirker. She’s just coming out of the anesthesia. Have you seen someone come out of anesthesia? It’s scary. She had all sorts of tubes and monitors connected to her and she was freaking out, contorting herself, arching her back, eyes squeezed shut. And she was calling for me, “Mama! I want mama!” She wouldn’t keep the oxygen mask on. She kept pulling it off, but she needed it. So they put her in my arms in a chair next to the bed and had me try to hold it on. “I’m here. I’m here.” I whispered to her. She calmed and fell asleep again. I held the mask over her face. After a while I put her back in the bed and climbed in next to her. I stayed with her until they felt she was ready to go.

I looked over and a nurse walked in just starting her shift and our eyes connected. She looked confused for a second then saw Smirker and smiled. “Oh I was going to say, you look great for just having surgery!”

I took a look at Smirker’s bandage over her belly button. It was a heart. That made me feel better in the moment.

Back in her room I watcher her sleeping peacefully and thought how gorgeous she looked even after surgery. Seriously. The night went pretty well. She woke once to pee and didn’t quite make it and didn’t want to walk. But fell asleep after a crazy few minutes.

The next day she woke to my parents (who live in Chicago) at her bedside. That’s another thing. I called my mom and dad when I knew she had to go into surgery. Without missing a beat, they said, “We’re flying out first thing in the morning.” They really are the best.

“I want iPad,” Smirker said. “And purple nails.”

Anesthsia didn’t change my girl a bit. She spent most of the day watching movies and playing Candy Maker on my iPad. She and her Nama planned the week they would have (purple nails included) and my dad wheeled her around the peds floor in a wagon.

“Love Monster miss me,” Smirker said at one point.

“Yeah. We’ll see her soon,” I said.

She was a great patient. Except for when it came time to take her Tylenol. And it didn’t help that the nurse would only push the plunger down a TINY bit when Smirker finally let her give it to her. JUST DO IT ALL AT ONCE. I wanted to scream. But nope. So Smirker started getting cranky. At one point I tried to clean her face with a wash cloth and she was so pissed I did that she licked her hand and wiped it on her face over and over saying “No clean! No clean!” When I giggled she wiped her face even harder with her saliva soaked hand. Man she needed pain medication and sleep. Stat.

They let us go later that afternoon, even though Smirker refused to try and walk. And the long awaited Smirker/Love Monster reunion commenced! Within minutes LM accidentally smacked her sister in the stomach. Should have seen that coming.

By the next day Smirker realized that taking Tylenol would make her feel better and she started walking again. She was a little guarded with her tummy, but other than that. She was totally back to normal.

Chalk that up to an obligatory parent experience. I was in my kitchen after putting Smirker to sleep the night we came home. I threw away a peanut butter cup wrapper and I started crying. My fiancé hugged me as he realized it just hit me.  I had been in strong mom mode for about 24 hours straight and that chocolate peanut butter perfection brought down my armor. You hear that saying “Your kids are your heart outside your body.” I mean I still put my hand in front of their mouths when they are sleeping to make sure they are breathing. There are times that that saying is painfully clear. What hurts you the most is when someone you love more then anything is hurting. And this was only her appendix.

Crying is for Closers (My pitch for motherhood)

A friend of mine joked, “You guys really don’t sell it,” when a couple other moms and I talked about parenthood. It got me thinking. We do (Especially us mom bloggers) talk about the shit part a lot. Now I’m going to sell it. At least I’m going to give it shot. Here it goes.

Take off the dirt.

Take out boogers.

The tantrums.

The fight for independence (I am here! Yes I heard you the first time.)

The door slams.

The nagging.

The neediness.

The hair pulls.

The constant worry.

The scrapes.

The puke

The poop.

The pee.

The spit.

The eye boogers and neck crust.

The sleeplessness.

The crumb covered floors.

The ruined upholstery. The nicked furniture.

The marked walls. (Again, I am here.)

The amazing ability to impersonate a drunk, homeless person

And you are left with pure light

Love

Genius

Curiosity, strength

They are the heart outside your body. Raw and vulnerable. Scary and beautiful.

It is your do-over.

They are perfect.

They are you.

That time they wouldn’t eat their pizza because it wasn’t completely covered in pepperoni and they cried all through dinner balling up the pizza into an unrecognizable ball of mush? They just want to be seen.

They are all that is good. All that is possible.

Another human being to learn the reason for our lives—to connect, to love and be loved,     to learn different is what makes this world perfect, to find they are amazing individually, but we only work together.

They will fit you better then your favorite sweater to quote Lana Del Rey.

And the love…. The love and joy is better then a first kiss or peanut butter and chocolate.

This culmination of cells and blood is yours. And you know they are yours because they are your reflection. Even the parts you don’t want to see. They teach you everyday if you listen and watch. They challenge you. They push every button you have. Do not struggle. Surrender and they will be your life preserver. They will make you better then you ever could be without them.

Yes it’s your job to raise them to be exceptional human beings, but they teach you the meaning of life. And also how to burp and fart at the same time. And how to draw a unicorn and how to dress however you damn well please.

Here’s the kicker.

You can’t have the:

Middle of the night snuggles

The messy kisses

The moment they read a book themselves

The heart stopping beautiful way they sleep

The odd breakfasts in bed

The dance parties

The belly busting laughs

The homemade cards

The times they look at you with eyes from the future that say You are doing a good job with me, please don’t cry.

The absolute unconditional love

And more

And more

And on

And on

You can’t have any of that without… The shit we bloggers blog about.

My Minis

I’m just going to face this one. I figure if I put it all out there I can move onto acceptance much faster. For years I’ve been hearing people say, “You’re kids are just like you!” I’ve always half heard this taking it like they look like me, which I see. But lately this observation made by the masses has taken on a different meaning. They are just like me. They take on every habit I have. Shit!

1.     Spanking-They love to spank every single person they come in contact with. And they think it’s hilarious. I tell them “No it’s not appropriate.” Then my boyfriend pointed out that I totally do this. Not with strangers, but still. Oy….

2.     The patented Beth “Errrr” sound- As in the short but effective “ERRR” I growl when I’m frustrated or annoyed. Smirker has this DOWN.

3.     “Let’s do this thing!”- It wasn’t until I noticed my kids say this every time we left the house that I realized I say this every time we leave the house. Huh. I really am predictable.

4.     Beer- I really like beer. It’s yummy. Every time I have one and Smirker is around, she tries to get it. She is obsessed. I don’t let her have it, but man she wants it!

5.     The “I’m going to start a project right before bed” thing- Love Monster has this tendency to want to start a major project about five minutes before bed. She has a burst of inspiration and must create NOW. “Mama! I’m going to make princess and dragon puppet show!” She has gathered all her art materials, and put two chairs together to be the stage and begins designing the set. Then it becomes a whole deal trying to get her into bed. I’m frustrated. She’s frustrated. I become the dream killer. Ahhhh! My inner self then reminds me, you do this daily. When I get inspired to do something, write something, organize something, I have to do it immediately or I go nuts.

6.     The walk protest- A zoo trip with the two girls. That sounds lovely right? I have the stroller, snacks, I am ready. And then Smirker pulls the “I’m just not gonna walk” card. She insists on my carrying her the WHOLE TIME. And if I put her down she wails. And it’s hot. Really damn hot. The day ends with them smiling and discussing how awesome the snow leopards were, but I am a sweaty, cranky mess. Jeez Smirker! Where do you get this from? Then I flash back to me in high school (Yes high school. I know. Embarrassing), on my family trip to Washington D.C. I practically chained myself to a bench by the Lincoln Memorial and refused to walk anymore. Yeah I did that. What a brat. Sorry Mom.

And I’m sure there are more habits I’ve passed on so let’s consider this part one.

Can you keep a secret? I sort of think all these things are cute. Sorta. In retrospect. They are my little minis! They really are little sponges. My smiles faded a little bit as I wrote that last sentence. We teach them everything. Weather we think about it or not. We do. Something to be aware of as parents. So yes I have to break some of these habits. But not the ERRR sound. That’s seriously adorable.  

Donna Day

Waking up this morning with my girlies snuggling next to me, I grabbed my phone to fix my blurry eyes on some facebook before I started my day. My newsfeed was filled with my mom blogger friends posting about Donna.

Today is Donna Day.

I couldn't take my eyes off of this beautiful face on my screen.

                                                                           Donna

Smiker and Love Monster opened their eyes and looked as well.

Smirker: Who that?

Me: That's Donna.

Smirker: I like the purple. Cover her owie?

Me: Yeah.

Love Monster: She looks so cool! I want her to come over and play.

Me: Love Monster, she can't.

And as if she somehow knew...

Love Monster: Mama, did she grow up?

Me (holding back tears): No babe.

Love Monster: Oh. (She knew what I meant)

Me: Let's try to help some kids like her today though.

Love Monster and Smirker: YES!!!


I fell in love with Donna about a year and half ago when I started reading Mary Tyler Mom's blog. Donna was her daughter. Donna died of an aggressive brain tumor in 2009 when she was 4 years old.  When I read Donna's story, so beautifully written by her mother, my life changed. Donna will forever hold a piece of my heart. Her story made me hold my girl a little tighter. Her story made me sad and angry that cancer robs kids of their childhood and in some cases their lives. Her story made me want to help this cause as much as possible.

So today is Donna day. Read her story. Check out St. Badrick's and consider helping in some way. Pediatric cancer needs the funding. If you live in Illinois, you can donate when you do your taxes.

Mary Tyler Mom and Dad also started Donna's Good Things to honor Donna and help kids with cancer find some good things.

Kids are not supposed to die. Of course you all know that. But after reading Donna's story, it made it personal. Kids are not supposed to die. Donna was not supposed to die.

Love to you Mary Tyler Mom. You are amazing. Thank you for sharing Donna's story.        

And if any of you don't follow Mary Tyler Mom on Facebook, do it! She is such a great positive force in this world and funny as hell.  (And she's a Chicagoan, so that makes her awesome.)