kiwords

It had been a long night. Raphi had had a nightmare somewhere around 2 am. Max had had…pull-up issues that resulted in him sleeping with me, which for Max means sleeping right in my armpit. Tre had woken up around 4, wondering if it might not be time for us all to bound out of bed. But finally the morning came, after far less sleep than I would have liked. I was a touch cranky. I crawled out of bed (perhaps snarling just a little), and started the great push through breakfast and off to school.
Ah, school. It was Monday. That precious day. Max and Tre were off to their respective classes, Raphi was spending the morning with a friend, and for three blissful hours my time was to be my own. I didn’t get my Monday last week, because I was helping out at the school. But here we were, at Monday again.
I harassed the kids into their seats at the breakfast table. I slapped food down in front of them. I snapped at them to hurry up.
“Mama? I’m itchy,” whined Max.
“You’ll feel better once you have clothes on.” I replied. No idea where that logic came from. “Eat your breakfast.” And I stomped off to pick out clothes for Raphael. Let’s get this show on the road, I thought. Me time. As I came back down the hallway, I was met by Max. Who was not, as you may have guessed, eating his breakfast. “Look at this, Mama.” He held out his arm. Which was covered in welts. I grabbed his other arm. Ditto. They were all over his legs too, and creeping up his cheeks. It was so bad that when I called to Mom to come and look, she said, “Oh my goodness!” Mom is a nurse, and I have made her look at every skin anomaly on my boys since they were born. She usually glances at something I’m sure is melanoma, at least, and says, “Hmm. He’ll be ok.” The strongest reaction I’ve ever gotten out of her is, “Keep an eye on that. It’ll probably just go away.” But today she stopped, kneeled down next to Max, and peered at his arms and legs. Moved him into better light. Set down her keys even though she had been on her way out the door to work. “What has he eaten this morning?”
I sighed. “Nothing.”
We inspected his breakfast, and it was true. “Well, has he used any new soap?”
I thought. “No…WAIT! That’s it! He used my shower gel last night! Tons of it.” We studied him in silence for a moment.
“He should have a bath,” she advised finally, “with baking soda. See if that helps. Maybe call his doctor when the office opens.”
So that’s what I did. Mom took Tre to school and I put Max in a baking soda bath (as an aside here, a bath with a handful of baking soda is good for just about any problem of children’s skin. Rashes, diaper and otherwise, dry itchies, you name it. Love the stuff). The welts started clearing up almost immediately. Soon they were almost all gone. He was still a little itchy though, so after a consult with the nurse at his pediatrician’s office, I gave him a dose of Benadryl. After that he was perfectly fine, if a little logy from the Benadryl.
I, on the other hand, was not fine. Instead of a morning of freedom, where I got to go out and be cool with my laptop, I got a morning of home. With. Kids. I get plenty of those. I wanted a break. I was not a happy camper. I took a deep breath and got over myself soon enough, but the voice in my head was distinctly whiny.
Max was pretty sad about not going to school. He was supposed to be the special person of the day (it’s ok, I got it switched to next week), and he wanted to be there. I felt bad for him so I offered a lunch out at the place of his choosing. He chose the Golden Wok. He and I went there once when Tre was at a birthday party that Max hadn’t been invited to, so ever since it has been a symbol of “Mama –n- Max time.” So we went there and were sat in a booth. The last time we were there the tray kept falling off the high chair. I could see it was the same high chair, so rather than fight with it I just put Raphael next to me. Then Max decided he needed to sit next to me too, so I sat there, flanked by boys. We ordered our food and had a peaceful meal. As it was slowly winding to the end, I started contemplating errands I could still accomplish, even though my day had been shot. Let’s see, I mused, I could go get that stuff at Wal-Mart, and the Vitamin Cottage is right next door to the restaurant. As I sat and planned, I stared at a water fountain across the restaurant. It was a large flat panel, with ripples of water moving smoothly down it into a collection of rocks. It was bugging me, because I kept focusing on one ripple, and then following it to the bottom. I waved down a waitress. “Could you send our waiter? I’m ready for our check.” She looked at Max, who was still picking tiny green bits out of a dumpling. “Don’t be so hurry,” she urged, “take you time.”
Huh, I thought. On my right sat Raphael, in his Shooperman shirt, scooping ice contentedly out of my water glass. On my left was Max, leaning against me in a Benadryl fog, soaking up the comfort of mom. As she walked away I turned my attention back to the waterfall. For the first time that day I relaxed, and instead of focusing obsessively on one ripple, I took in the entire soothing wall of water.
And it was good.