The last time I blogged I posted a lame post about Wesley’s stats for his 1 year appointment. I now have his 15 month stats and have not blogged anything about all the things that have happened in the middle. I am lame! So much has happened that I haven’t recorded. I am going to regret not writing things down and the only person I will be able to blame is myself. So, in an effort to not be really mad at myself, I am going to get this little blog caught up. After I get it caught up, I am going to keep it going. I am going to keep record of the awesome things that happen in our lives, the lame things that happen and even the small things that will one day make me smile when I am old and have absolutely no memory of who I am.
Ok, here we go… first things first. WESLEY:
Sorry little brother. I have failed to write down a lot of things that have happened in his life. I failed to mark the momentous occasion when he started crawling. It was April 30th, 2013. He still had his helmet on and Steve said he was happy Wes was crawling before the helmet came off so that he had a little extra protection for a few weeks. Wes wanted to crawl SO bad. He was getting grumpier and grumpier by the day. The day he figured out that he didn’t have to stay in one place was a happy day for him. He started moving and didn’t stop!
I know I already posted that we were helmet free, but I didn’t explain how approximately two weeks after he started crawling we had the appointment at Children’s to check the status of the helmet. It was getting tight and they had to make the decision whether to make him helmet number 3 or to let him be free. I had made up my mind if they gave me the choice, I was going to pick freedom. I was ready to throw (a little) caution to the wind and let things play out the way they were ready to at that point. We went to the appointment with the little blue helmet tucked safely into the bottom basket of the stroller. Evan came with us and I felt like I couldn’t breathe for the 25 min we sat in the waiting room. Finally, the surgeons came in. They looked at his head, thought about things, scratched their heads, looked at his head some more, and then finally probably saw the look in my eye that said, “I am his mother and I am warning you silently about what might happen to you if you try to tell me it is medically necessary to put that thing back on him!” After much deliberation, on May 15, 2013 they gave me permission to be helmet free. They decided that he was old enough, that his head had probably done most of the re-shaping it was going to do, and that it is was probably safe to let things take their course naturally. I kept the blue helmet safely tucked in the bottom of the stroller as we walked out of the appointment and I felt like I needed to run. Like if I didn’t run out of there, someone would see me. Someone would figure out that we were leaving without the helmet on. Someone would tell me they had made a terrible mistake and we were bound to hell all over again. I kept my composure as I ran to the car. I loaded both boys in. I put the stroller in the back and before I closed it up, I grabbed the little blue helmet. As I held it in my hands I started sobbing. We had done it. He had done it. We were free. What would life be like? We had no idea that it would simply be A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.!!
I had posted before that we had no helmet, but I also never posted about how about 1 month later I pulled both the little yellow helmet and the little blue helmet off of a shelf to put in a box for storage. I still haven’t decided if I want to keep them, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to put them in a box in the crawl space and then make the decision whether to keep them or get rid of them when my emotions had calmed down a bit. I found a good shaped box and then put the helmets inside. As I started taping up the box, I started having a panic attack. I started taping the box like a crazy person. Taping and taping. Convinced that somehow if I didn’t put enough tape on the box the helmets might walk out of the box and make their way back into my life. I couldn’t breathe. I taped and taped and taped. I had to call Jen to re-ground myself. To find my sanity. To remember that I was not living in some strange wiggly dream and that the helmets were really a thing of the past. Jen talked me off the ledge (like she always tends to do) and then when Steve got home he put the helmets away for me. I have not looked at them since and really do not plan to look at them again. Maybe Wes will like to see the helmets when he is bigger. As for me? I think my original idea of burning them might have been therapeutic.
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