More grey hairs

After a nice restful Christmas and a vow to have a better new year  – we have started looking for a new place to move to.  And my anxiety has gone through the roof.  I’ve been dipping into my ativan supply.  Now I had always imagined that getting older would bring me serenity, wisdom and a certain degree of security, confidence and strength.  I’ve got wisdom up the wazoo and I have no doubt of my strength, but what I didn’t see coming was a degree of vulnerability that I feel, particularly with motherhood.  Or maybe it’s just my age, my mid life crisis or even my life condition.  Motherhood has revealed a whole new level of insecurities that I never knew I had.  Entrusted with the care of this amazing child, I feel confident that I can feed him and keep him alive (ha! more on that later), but I’m not sure I can be the well dressed mother of grace  and giggles that I assumed I’d be.

So far, what we’ve seen in housing has been an education.  We are trying to pay less rent and get more space which in this city means moving further away.  I’m trying to keep my husband’s commute to work by transit manageable and also find a neighbourhood that provides me with nearby community centres, a place to walk my dog and sidewalks that lead to a coffee shop and a liquor store.  Believe it or not, I’ve never lived in a place where I haven’t had this.  I’m stubborn.  I keep thinking I can get this for a reasonable price.  I’m afraid I have champagne tastes on a beer budget.

Our present home has been challenging on a few levels, but we prefer not to go through another winter here.  Compromises are going to have to be made. I’m just afraid of making the wrong choice.  We saw a house that was really nice, but the basement was going to be rented out as well, and it was located near the bottom of a very steep street which would prove problematic.  We drive a lot but we also walk an hour in the the forest almost daily, walk to nearby playgrounds and parks and to Tim Horton’s and Dairy Queen of course.  And sometimes we just walk around the neighbourhood with the Precious riding his bike.  I don’t have to cross a highway.  We have sufficient street lights. Time to chant for a new home.

Also to chant for my kid’s safety.  I know, I know, kids break bones, get scars, etc.    Five minutes into a walk and of course, the kid had his hands in his pockets (and we keep telling him not to do that) and he was running, tripped and fell on gravel and loosened his front teeth.  Screaming, blood everywhere I try to calm him down and assess the damage.  I carried him home piggyback style.  Thank goodness, we weren’t that far from home, my back groaned but didn’t give out.   I cleaned out his mouth, and gave him a popsicle and all seemed to be well until I insisted we go out again later.  Really, it was such a gorgeous day and I was absolutely did not want to spend the rest of the day in the house.  He threw what the Brits like to call a “wobbly”, (i.e. a defcon 5 fit) and 10 minutes later, he fell fast asleep in my lap. That fall took more out of him than I first realized and I gave him some Tylenol when he woke up to ease the pain.   I got a dentist appointment for him a couple days later, and luckily the dentist didn’t remove his teeth.  I just have to put some antibacterial rinse on his gums (there was some damage to that little bit under the top lip) and hope his teeth firm up in a month.   Holy cow, I worried myself into a tizzy.  Not sure I can make it til he grows up.  A cut knee I can take, but anything that takes dental surgery (I HATE dentists – not personally – but I’m the type of person who sweats through a cleaning) makes me want to take to my bed with the vapours.  Of course, what does hubby do a few days later?  Takes him to a gymnastics drop in with his buddy’s kids – after I explicitly told him NOT to!   His teeth are still wobbly!  He needs them to for a couple more years til they’re good and ready to fall out.   This kid has a wee overbite so when he falls over or runs into something cause he leads with his HEAD, he almost cuts his lip.  Sigh.  Pass me the bubble wrap.

No, no, no, he’s not going to be a hockey player.  PLEASSSSSE, NOOOOO! I couldn’t take it.

 

 

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “More grey hairs

  1. I’m always grateful that our nephews never played hockey… or football. The older one took karate for a couple of years, and the younger one played baseball & soccer for awhile, but those have a lot less contact and a lot fewer concussions. Not to mention from a parental perspective, the cost and the huge amount of time spent hauling these kids around to practices, games, tournaments…!

  2. WE ARE CUT FROM THE SAME CLOTH!!! I can’t take the physical bangs either — I still get flashbacks from a fall she took when she was little — and the teeth thing… well she’s soon to go to the dentist again and I know she needs two teeth filled — the very thought of going under anesthesia again makes me want to vomit. UGH.

    I don’t know lady, I need ativan too. My fear of my own mortality has been hard to take lately — I feel so old and the intensity of the love I feel for her goes hand in hand with the intensity of worry. Sounds like I need a practice of some kind, yes?

    Do your Buddhist meetings help?

    I’ll be thinking of you in the housing market search. I know you will find the perfect place. Meanwhile plan a trip out here for summer when the weather is better…XO We will get our families together for some four-wheeling 😉

    XO

    Pam

    • Four wheeling?! Are you insane? All that jiggling might knock his teeth out! Hahaha. YOU feel old? I’d kill to be your age – just last night I took 2 Advil and 2 back pain pills cause I was so ****ing sore from the 2 fighter bootcamp classes I took this week. Oi! I’d share my ativan, but I don’t have many left. Yes, the worry, the worry, yes, chanting helps a lot – as a matter of fact, it’s the only time I DON’T worry. By the way, we found a place – money hasn’t exchanged hands, but let’s just say I’m closer to the mountains.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s