The Battle.... # 2 of 30. January 20 2014

The #2 on my way to 30 is admitting a real mom thought out loud to this big bad world: 

I am scared I am going to mess my kid up. (I think we all think this, so this is not a pity party, but instead a hopeful shot in the dark that I am not alone here)

For about 6 weeks now, Trace's recovery has been in this weird stagnant place- a limbo, if you will. Rehab purgatory!  The total is supposed to be 9 mos-2 yrs so this shouldn't be a surprise. 

He can stand, he can take some steps. He does use his walker. But he still spends more than half his time not doing any of those things. And here is the hardest part: not really wanting to.  

Still, we are so much better than 3 months ago, that I struggle with gratitude versus persistence regularly.  Until I realized......

 I am also in limbo. I have a hard time following through because of his pain. I let the crazy schedule rule US and don't follow through on my disciplinary threats. Sometimes I let him slide on his walks or his stretches.

 I am so damn worried all the time, about what Trace is feeling, what he is thinking, what is going through. How hard it must be.

DISCLAIMER: I am certain it is so hard for him. Trace is the best. So good with his cousins, babies, animals, adults....he has always been so EASY!  Luke and I will sometimes just brag back and forth about him. He was a 3 lb, 31 week preemie, who survived a major surgery when I was 16 weeks pregnant. The kid is a ROCK STAR.

But back to the point:

THE BATTLE has hit home.

 Trace battles it all right now- the boundaries, the rules. Bath time, bed time, what to eat. He puts off the exercises, uses all his words to argue and prefers to play the iPad more than school work or reading.

Oh, yeah....HE IS 11. Sometimes, I think we have been so focused on what he is going through, that I forget to be the mom of an 11 yr old!

 

 

 

(the kid has attitude. I wonder where he gets it from...Fun Side note--- In Irish, TRACE means COURAGEOUS BATTLER... Luke wanted to name him Morgan, and call him Mo. I liked no boy names. I was convinced I was going to have a girl named Deshka. His name came to us just a few days before he was born. Thx Jules :)

 SO my #2 to 30 yrs old- my challenge to myself is:

To fight my worries and my fears in order to stick with the rules and show him that he can do it,  while providing him with the tools of how to do it. Not be afraid to be a "mean mom", but find a way to not show my frustrations to him and stay positive with my tone and words.

So, the battle IS ON. 

PS, the iPad is a prisoner of war. DO NOT send any search teams, Trace. 

My courageous battler is not happy and went to bed an hour early. (coincidentally, was asleep in literally less than a minute.) He will wake up to a world of new rules tomorrow.

The "mean mom" is going to have to battle through the "pity-full mom".

My mom is going to have to battle her "granny- soothing" (sorry mom. you rock, seriously)

Sometimes, you have to just pull up your big-girl-armor-panties, have a little battle-cry and get on with it. 

 

xo- Mags