Jonah is a bright, fat butterball of sunshine in our lives. He really is, what with his chipmunk cheeks and sparkly eyes, and his ear to ear grin that is perpetually contagious. How could we have been blessed with such a wonderfully happy baby? Don't get me wrong, Joshua is a treasure and wonderful in his own right, but Jonah? He wiggles his whole body with giddyness when you so much as glance in his general direction. And to make eye contact and . . . gasp . . . pick him up? He might explode with pleasure.
Which actually makes me feel a little guilty sometimes. I wonder, how abandoned must he feel to get so excited over a smidgen of attention? I'm sure he's not really feeling abandoned (or so I tell myself), but I have to have something to stress about, right? It's like how we were at Gymboree the other day and he was, as is the trend these days, drooling like mad. I checked the two teeth that he already has on the bottom, and around them - nothing new. Hmmm, I think. He never has any sign of teeth or swelling on his top gums . . . maybe I'll just check and see . . . FOUR NEW TEETH?? I mean honestly. With Joshua I checked and rechecked his teething progress twice a day, he was under such a microscope. You'd think that the huge bubbles of drool coating Jonah's entire chin and neck would have tipped me off to the arrival of the four teeth. And the thing is, if I'd known, I'd at least given him some teething tablets or something. But he's a survivor and smiles through it all.
Now I guess neither of the kids will be under the microscopic glare of my surveillance. Which I think is good mostly. Or maybe they'll both be under it, but it won't seem so intense spread over the both of them.
But then something happens. Like Joshua . . . we have to take him to the doctor for a little lump I found . . . well, more like a nodule, really, on his jawbone. When I first felt it I thought instantly that he had a little lipoma. Then, being the compulsive person that I am, I googled "lump on neck" (and it isn't really even on his neck) which, of course, took me off in all directions. Hodgkins lymphoma . . . leukemia . . . I was a wreck by the end of the night. I think that a normal person just thinks "I'll have to make an appointment with the doctor to see about that," and goes on with their lives. That would be way too easy. Microscope on.
Jonah is the worst napper in the history of babies, and the longest nap he's taken since birth I think, has been 45 minutes. He sleeps upwards of 12 to 13 hours at night, but is he getting enough sleep? Are we putting him down early enough for his nap? Too early? Microscope on.
Joshua doesn't like his new Sunday school class, and today when I came to pick him up he was lying under a table. "Why were you under the table?" I ask, trying not to let my voice betray any worry I was feeling. Like asking "What color shirt do you want to wear today?" "Because," he replies, "I had my hand in my mouth, but the kids said, 'Don't put your hand in your mouth.' " I try to sort it out in my head. "So you were hiding under the table so that you could put your hand in your mouth?" Nod. Microscope on.
Jonah is six and a half months old, and is not yet eating food. Microscope on.
It's not for lack of trying, he just doesn't want to have anything to do with it. It's funny the looks you get from people who find out how old he is and that he hasn't, say, had rice cereal in a bottle since he was four months old. We have a fat, thriving baby, though, and while I worry that he will still be nursing in fifth grade and we won't be able to pack him a lunch (instead I'll have to show up in the cafeteria and hoist up my shirt . . . do they have nursing rooms for fifth graders?) I have to tell myself that he will eat food someday, and try not to push it.
So I have my own issues and I foster them and care for them like they're furry little pets that need to be combed and washed, watered and fed. And all the while I keep trying to realize that it's the kids I need to invest my time in, not my worries about who they are or what they did, or what they're turning into, or not turning into. I don't want to squash them with my microscope. I want Jonah to always be a little spark of joy who lights up the room he's in. I want that for Joshua, too . . . for all of us. We need that little spark of joy in our lives.
No comments:
Post a Comment