Dear (Broken-Arm) Tyson May 31, 2016

Dear Tyson,

Do you want to know how much I regret that I told you “I can’t right now” when you said “I want to hold you” this morning?  I should’ve picked up you up and squeezed you tight & dealt with everything else I was doing at the time a little later.

Our normal Tuesday morning is chores, then to the gym so I can get a workout in while you & Trent play at the daycare there before we all go to the pool.  Then we usually go to Ninth Street for lunch because I’m lazy & I still tend to hope you might fall asleep on the way home, even though it’s been awhile since that’s actually happened.  This morning was different because you’re potty training, so I left bootcamp twice to get you to the potty.  You were a champ & kept your big boy undies dry!  Then just as I was headed to rinse off & get in my swimsuit, they paged me to the daycare.  I laughed (not a true happy-laugh, but an ironic-laugh) and asked your aunt Julie if we thought it was poop or pee they were calling me for, assuming you had a potty accident.  But then another friend came in & asked if they’d gotten a hold of me yet because you were hurt & that super-sucky feeling of my heart sinking to my toes hit hard.

You were crying & they said you hurt your arm on the slide.  I thought it was surely no big deal, but it looked just a little goofy right above your elbow.  So your paramedic mom, who is the first to stand on a soapbox and say “take your hurt kid to the pediatric hospital and do not pass go at the community one” carried you to my truck while you screamed & I tried to hold your arm in place, and drove you the mile to the little hospital.  You didn’t stop screaming.   I hoped that they might say it was a tiny dislocation that they could fix, but after listening to you scream in a way that my tough little boy doesn’t scream, I feared we’d be headed to a pediatric hospital anyway.  Of course I wouldn’t want you to have to make the trip in an ambulance but that’s what we did– with you saying “Mommy come with me in the ambulance!” while they placed you on their stretcher.  Oh sweet boy, they weren’t taking you anywhere without ME.

So here we are, sitting at the ER at Cardinal Glennon.  It’s now been over 4 hours since I thought we were headed to the pool.  At this point, we know you fractured your humerus right above the elbow & they want to do surgery to place a pin.  But we don’t know when & the waiting game is terrible.

You’re sleeping, covered in the baby blanket your aunt made you & with your froggy in your good arm– both of which your awesome grandma brought to us at the first hospital because we are so blessed that she will drop everything & run to us.  Listening to you softly snore is a reminder that you will truly be okay, and there are roughly 600,388 other things that could be happening to you that would easily fall into the category of WORSE THAN A BROKEN BONE.

Thankfully, your aunt was at the rec center to take care of your brother so that stinker still got to go to the pool.  And thankfully, your grandma came to hold you at the ER when I had to run to the potty.  And thankfully, a whole slew of friends & family have texted to ask how they can help us out.  And thankfully, we got an ambulance with an awesome crew who didn’t make me feel like crap for not taking my hurt kid straight to the pediatric hospital.  And thankfully, your daddy was able to leave his fire academy for a bit to meet us right at the ambulance when we made it across the river.  Little man, you & I are incredibly blessed.

While we wait, I’ll pray.  While you snore, I’ll get my priorities straight.  While the doctors make a plan, I’ll pray some more & remember all the things we are thankful for.

It’s just a bone.  It is a crappy way to start summer & I really have no idea what we’re in for.  But hallelujah, it’s just a bone.  So together, we’ll carry on & have some stories to tell!

Love you forever & ever, and here to cover you with kisses until they kick me out,

Mommy

Dear (Three-Year-Old) Tyson May 23, 2016

Dear Tyson,

When I think of words to describe you, these are the first that come to mind.

Ornery.

Funny.

Snuggly.

Playful.

You’re usually going 100 miles per hour, running and jumping and bumping into things while being very loud.  But first thing in the morning when you wake up, my most favorite thing to do is just hold you on the couch because you curl right into my lap and are content to just sit there.  I can smell your bath from the night before and cover you in kisses all while you sit still.

You have a laugh that makes others laugh.  Your understanding of so many things kind of blows my mind.  Your babble doesn’t really stop, and your dialogue with the rest of us and even when it’s just with yourself is downright hilarious.  You’re already watching the wheat to change to a golden color, so that Grandpa can get the combine running.  “Mommy, I will drive the combine and you will drive the grain cart.  Okay?”  When we’re at the farm you want to be in the driver’s seat of everything: combine, tractor, grain truck.

Like most little ones your age, we can have a lengthy conversation that involves you asking “Why?” more times than I can count.  And if I don’t give you a worthwhile answer or I take too long trying to think of a response, you get very agitated—“Mommy, talk!”

Trent is still your best friend.  You loved getting to go inside his preschool to drop him off, especially when I gave you 5 minutes to play alongside him before giving him a big good-bye hug.  You also loved waiting with me at the school for him to be released, because you knew his sweet teachers would send him with an extra piece of candy for you.  The most common question we hear is some version of “Where’s my Trent?” and “Where did Trent go?  I can’t see him!”  The two of you play incredibly well together *nearly* all the time which is so charming and makes it so much easier for me to get things done.

You typically nap for about 2 hours each afternoon and I wake you up when it’s time to head to the farm for chores.  Yesterday, before your party, I told you it was time for you to take a nap and Trent headed there with you, telling you that you could sleep on his belly.  And even though he hasn’t had a purposeful afternoon nap for months, the two of you slept soundly for almost three hours, side-by-side.  Daddy said that when you woke up, you were so excited about the fact that it was time for your birthday party.

In the next year, you will get potty-trained (you WILL get potty-trained).  You’ll start preschool.  You will get bigger and stronger, and be able to tackle every part of the treehouse right alongside Trent.  You will spend hours in the tractors and combine, and even more hours pushing your own tractors and combine across the living room floor.  You will get bumps and bruises right alongside lots of hugs and kisses.  Trent will still be your role model and Daddy will still be the one who makes you squeal in delight when he comes home and throws you in the air.

And in the next year, I will soak up that calm morning time together (even when there’s so much to do, and we’re usually already running late).  I will be immensely proud of you as you discover more abilities and probably some special talents too (the sky is the limit).  I will kiss your boo-boos when you fall but stay far enough away to let you realize how strong and brave you are (but if you would look down, you would see me squeezing my eyes shut so I can’t watch).  I will remind myself that you are a little, energetic, healthy boy who needs to run and scream and wrestle (and Daddy will keep reminding me too).  I will be your #1 fan but make sure you learn where the line of misbehavior lies (because we are not raising little assholes).

You are amazing.  You are feisty and sweet.  You are handsome and strong.  You came into this world in a very intense, beautiful way (read your birth story HERE) and that has been the trend of your life.  Daddy and I are so blessed to call you our son, and beyond blessed to watch you grow.  We hope that with all the ups and downs, you always know love.

Happy 3^rd birthday, Tyson Steven!

Love,

Mommy