Comic-Con

Hey Mister.

A friend of mine owns the Comic Book Shoppe. Mr. Rob. Well, he let me work this past Comic-Con. I sold t-shirts. I dressed up like Lara Croft. It was fun.

Sunday was Mother’s Day. Dad was working his 24. So I decided we would go together. Somehow. At the last minute, Rob got you a pass and we dressed you up in camouflage. You had your pants, a gun holster and your Nerf gun. A camo shirt and your hat. And then I drew on a cut with red lipstick on your cheek and covered it up with black eyeshadow so it looked like you were all tough and beat up. We got there at 9. And for a whole hour, you helped me pull down tarps and fold t-shirts for the opening at 10. You were awesome. You didn’t complain once. You watched people walk by, you talked to a few people. You folded shirts like a madman, working so hard. We had lunch. We had our pictures taken with Chewbacca. We had a lot of pictures taken. Check my facebook, for them. Or maybe this hard-drive. It was awesome.

You were so polite and kind to others. We had a good time, didn’t we?

That morning, you gave me a jar. And it said, ‘Reasons I Love You’ on it. And inside were little pieces of paper saying why you loved me.

‘you give good snuggles’, ‘you call me mister’, ‘you cook for me’, ‘you make me lunch’.

That completely melted my heart.

I love you buddy.

xo

ComicCon

Your Second Concussion

Dear Jack,

 

Phone call came at 12:38. I just got out of the shower. It was the school, telling me that you had slipped off the tires and hit your head. You were sitting in the office with an ice pack. And you didn’t cry. I asked to talk to you and you sounded cheerful. And then I asked you if you wanted to come home, and you said, ‘kinda’. So I came and got you.

Apparently you were playing tag with the grade ones. Your class plays soccer at recess now, and you don’t like playing it because one boy always hits you and the other always tackles you. You say it so nonchalantly now; that you don’t like playing. It hurts my heart. We’ve already given you permission to hit the boy and to  yell at the other one, but you don’t seem to want to do that.  But you like playing with the grade ones, so I say nothing. You were jumping from one tire to the other and you slipped backwards, smacking the back of your head on the ground.  We drove to see Bev but they were closed, so we went to Emerg.

They made us wait an hour, remember?  The doctor was great though. She shook your hand and introduced herself. She asked you questions, made you do things and then said because it was another concussion (even though not as severe as last September) that you were to be on immediate rest. Three days of constant advil. Three days of rest. No running, no getting excited, no tv, no games, no colouring, no Lego. And then a week of half days at school. And then two weeks of no exercise.

Dude.

Tonight I pulled out all your Squinkies and we lined them up in the tub and then on the table. Then you went to bed. You were grouchy. And I don’t blame you. Dad’s taking part of the day off tomorrow but he’s got tinkering on the brain. He actually asked if he could paint the kitchen cupboards. Crazy guy.

It’s never good what goes through a mother’s brain when the school calls. When the doctor checks you out and it’s worse than you thought. I do know that God has you tightly in His hands and I do know that you are being watched and cared for. Maybe it’s time for you to rest a little. Life has been so busy.. so crazy. Maybe you need some time off. Maybe I need to spend more time with you. I don’t know.

I pray you get better, quickly. I pray that God will give me the creativity to keep you occupied and rested and happy. I pray that God will slow me down so I can pay attention to you.

love you, mister.