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The brutal truth of me, without all the sugary coating.
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I talk about my family, my divorce, and a lot about MAKEUP.
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Monday, February 18, 2013

Worry


When my Asher was a baby, I discovered blogging. I was a SaHM in the middle of nowhere (Abilene, Kansas) with a military husband. I was desperate for a hobby and a friend, and blogging filled both those holes for me. I wrote every little detail about baby Asher. I wrote and wrote about my feelings surrounding motherhood and my two little boys. Now that I've got three kids (two in school), trying to do the single mother thing, and working, my poor blog is neglected. But the really tragic thing is that I haven't kept a good record of my little Max's personality. He's such a character, if I were to blog about everything funny he said I would have to tell you everything he said all day long. Even my devoted blog readers (do I still have readers? lol) would get bored with that.

The point is this: My little Max is an absolute miracle sent to me from God Himself. When he was conceived, things were extremely rocky between my husband and I, and he came into this world in the midst of a separation/divorce nightmare. He came at a time quite unexpected and scary, and he has brought joy and laughter (and frustration!) to everyone near him since that day. He was born unhealthy and his dad and I had to worry over whether he would live or not. We watched nurses poke and prod him and obsessed over monitors until he was well enough to come home. We worried for months about his poor health and pathetic weight (10 lbs at 7 months).

The last 2 1/2 years Max has been the complete opposite of unhealthy. He is built like a football player, eats everything in sight, astounds everyone with his intelligence and vocabulary, and makes us all laugh. He pulls faces that surprise us and gives us advice that stops us in our tracks.





I could go on all day about his awesomeness but I won't. Bright and early tomorrow morning I have to wake Max up and take him to the hospital. He's going to be happy and talkative, until he sees that there are people wearing scrubs in there.... at which point he's going to completely lose it. If the nurses are able to get anywhere near him, it will be a miracle, and he will look at me with that "how could you betray me?" look on his face. I could just cry thinking about it. It isn't any of these faces:


Max is a difficult child to say the least, and he's got the intelligence to make you wonder if you're really dealing with a fully-grown man stuck in a little kid's body... tomorrow I have to trick him into going to the hospital for an IV and dental work. He's going to be angry, mean, and hurt. I wish I didn't have to be the mommy at times like this. All I want to do is whisk him away to where there are no needles and only Sprout TV and chocolates where he can play all day and never have to wear clothes. (Max's version of Paradise.)


1 comment:

  1. What a blessing indeed. He was meant to be here sharing his happy goodness with you. He's a doll.

    ReplyDelete

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