Five Years of Sweetness

I see a fire in this boy that tells me he's going to make positive changes. It's not an inferno or a flicker, but something in between. It's a slow, steady burn.

Today is Maxwell's fifth birthday. I still smile when I remember how hard I fought for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) during my pregnancy with him and how proud I was to actually do it. Shrek and I were told it would be optimal for our second babe to be born during the business day while all hands were on deck in case I had to go to a C-section. I was pushing by 3:30 or 4, but feeling awfully sick, tired and weak. Shrek got right in my face, and said, "Let's do this, baby. We gotta get this baby out!" At 4:59 p.m., right on time, Maxwell David came into the world, and we all cried.

Since then, I've learned that my firstborn boy can be incredibly sweet. He's also shown the "Shrek" side of himself, but if we keep him fed, juiced and well-rested, it can be managed. While he has always been very emotionally intelligent, it's just been within the past two months that he's also become extremely interested in numbers, letters and putting pencil to paper. Like a light switch flipped, our Max has gone from barely coloring to writing out his own, very neat birthday list, which he insists hang on our fridge with the "5" magnet from the Leapfrog set.

He's a friend to all. He has one speed, and it is not fast. Daddy says he wishes he could ever be as cool as Max, who saunters through life with natural blond highlights in the summer, a carefree look on his face and a "hockey smile" with only one front tooth.

He's crazy about Transformers, Power Rangers, Monster Trucks and.... baking. He's awesome with the baby and indifferent to what he wears. He's an amazing little man, and I am so enjoying watching him grow up.

Happy birthday, baby boy! You are a huge part of mommy's sunshine and one of her favorite reasons. I love you so much, it hurts.

On a Prayer

My big boy giving thumbs-up pre-surgery.

My little man Max had his tonsils and adenoids taken out yesterday. I wanted, selfishly, for the doctor to confirm it was the right decision after the surgery, and he did. He said Max's tonsils were, indeed, very large. In fact, they were larger than those of the nine-year-old he worked on after Max. And his adenoids were blocking 50 to 60 percent of his nose, so we should see improvement on many fronts. He may even spike a growth spurt!

So, that's the good news. The bad news is that he's having a very rough time. He is in a lot of pain, and he doesn't want to drink much. Couple that with a fever and Momma Warrior is battling his dehydration big-time.

Trying to sleep off the anesthesia after surgery

Just to mix things up even more, Lily started puking with the stomach virus about 20 minutes after we finally arrived home from the hospital with Max. And then, Colby's diaper exploded. Oh, Universe, you are so funny...

Shrek and I shipped Colby off to mammaw's, took turns comforting our other babies and held on tight to the knot at the end of the rope. Last night was extremely difficult. Luckily, Lily's vomiting had subsided by then, but Max was not well at all. Dave took the first shift with him, and I relieved him around 1:45 in the morning. Around 2 a.m., I felt a sense of panic. Max was crying incessantly, drooling everywhere, and his fever was rising fast. There was no one to call, and I was on my own.

It brought to mind a Sugarland song. I wanna be the one you run to first. Well, I've certainly been the one Max runs to first his whole life and especially in the last 24 hours. And that's a big job. Especially at 2 a.m. when you're the only one around with a very sick kid who dehydrates easily and hallucinates with fevers and also has a history of febrile seizures. (Oh, and he does, in fact, have a fever, won't drink, and won't stop crying.)

But I prayed, I soothed, I cajoled. I forced the medicine down, turned on James Taylor, and actually got to sleep with Max for about an hour and a half before the crying started again. We watched the sun rise, and I had faith things would get better. They have gotten better. Not much, but a little.



And I don't know how, but several people have told me they have fond memories of having their tonsils out. It has not been easy for either of my kids who have gone through it so far and many of the kids I know. I hope Max does NOT have memories of this, at least not the parts where we force the meds down his throat every four hours and how, already, we have gotten Tylenol with codeine in his eyes not once, not twice, but three times.

I pray, if he remembers anything at all, that he remembers my touch and how he didn't feel alone because his momma, seven months pregnant, was a warrior who helped the yuckies go away.

Please get better, little man. I am so proud of you!

Wishes for Maxwell

This striking trio of first cousins started preschool together this morning. My Max was ready to go, his eyes gleaming and his Autobots backpack and Cars lunchbox sparkly new.

My hope for Maxwell is that today marks a long road of lifelong learning, both in the classroom and out. I pray he finds friends, wisdom and perspective in the hallowed halls of schools. My wish is that he takes himself seriously, but not too seriously; that he sets high goals and believes he can meet them; that he eventually gets paid to do what he loves; and, most of all, that he becomes the kind of person others respect and admire.

Max, I'm proud of the way you hugged your cousins this morning and slung your arms around their shoulders for photos. You are a gentle, laid-back little man, and I know you will be an amazing friend, husband and human being.

If you never stop learning, you'll never grow old. No matter what you become, you'll always be good enough for me!