God, my Father who Lives in Heaven, he orchestrates this thing I call life. I had no idea how much before, because I wasn't really listening all the time. I am trying hard to listen now. Maybe it's because Parker does not hear that I am trying even harder to listen for him, in behalf of him.
I can't help but think again & again that the reason all this has happened to us is to draw us Nearer to Him.
Nearer my God to thee, Nearer to thee. Even though it be a cross, that raiseth me. Still all my song shall be, nearer my God to thee, Nearer my God to thee. Nearer to thee. Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down, darkness be over me, my rest a stone. Yet in my dreams I'll be, nearer my God to thee. Nearer my God to thee, Nearer to thee. Let the way appear. Steps unto heaven. All that thou sendest me, dear mercy give. Angels to beckon me, nearer my God to thee. Nearer my God to thee. Nearer to thee.
Monsieur Franzoni is like a real-life version of Napoleon the Premier. He is even from Corsica. Short, dark hair, all smiles. He welcomed me and Parker at CEOP last week & said, "Lets play with Parker first. I want to see where he's at...what does he hear", etc. Then he got down on the floor with Parker & played, ON HIS STOMACH, on the floor of his office. He also told me we needed to give Parker bottles with tops to screw & unscrew in the bath. Funny since my mom asked me the night before how his fine motor skills were doing? I said, I have been working on gross motor. She is always right, my mom. I have to work on both, Parker has to work on both. She always knows best. How is that? I hope my kids think the same about me one day.
In Sunday school last week someone raised his hand as we were discussing Joseph in Egypt and his trials. He said, "I wouldn't take back any of my trials because they are what make me what I am, and I am so grateful for them." I had to shake my head and say, "I am still in the fire & it's really hot in here!" A young friend of ours after class quickly reminded me that it is, in fact, in the rough waters where the rocks become the smoothest, trying so hard to hold their ground. Yes, I say, only thing is that I thought I was pretty smooth before.
So Penelope & I got stuck in a downpour with hail 10 minutes before & after sunshine on Thursday and a woman said to me, "Vive le mois de mars a Paris!", and then I ran into a friend of mine also from Los Angeles who said, 'Take me back to California", and I realized after 10 winters & springs in Paris, I am still surprised by the rain & unpredictability of springtime here. Though I beg for it all winter long, Spring is just not all that fab. I had this realization that we always want what we can't have, and always remember things with more fondness than perhaps deserved. I do, anyway.
But when Parker woke up with a huge rash & swollen "zizi" (as they call it in french) on Friday, I realized I am just not equipped to send this baby to surgery again. Ever. The American pediatrician said it was a bad circumcision that would need to be redone immediately. My pediatrician was not convinced, but after we saw a pediatric surgical urologist, who just covered him with xylocaine & squeezed the heck out of him & sent us home with some betadine wash, I thought we were no where nearer fixing this problem 24 hours out than we were when we started on Friday morning. This boy is nothing but trouble. And I love him. So much. I just wish I knew exactly what to do every time he needed me.
He has been taking antibiotics since Tuesday for his sort of typical otitis/bronchitis he seems to get every 6 weeks or so, and I think he gets wind of it & he breaks out in a rash. Who knows why this time the reaction was more severe, but Saturday I prepared the kids for bed, John asked my permission to make pizzeria pizzas with the girls (ie, destroy the kitchen & not clean it up), and I put pajama-clad-PJ in his stroller & ran to the car, headed to Necker. At least this time, it was more calculated, figuring an ER visit on a Saturday at dinner time couldn't be all that busy. But as I was running in the twilight, and thinking about how much I dread going to that place, Parker waved his arms & kicked his legs in excitement. He was content, even though his penis was the size of a clementine. I thought for more than a half second, "I want to get away, I want to fly away."
I want to run away.
What if I just keep running with him? With Peej. But what good would that do? What would that accomplish?" So, like a responsible mother (not the hazardous adolescent that still resurfaces in me sometimes), I got some cream for his cut-open lip (Hannah fell on top of him, chunked out part of his lip as we were walking out the door. He was bleeding ALOT), and reluctantly drove to the other side of town.
I try not to cringe as I walk into the dirty, old, Emergency Room. I try not to think about last year him (& me & John) living just 3 floors above for several weeks. I try not to exaggerate when I explain to the triage nurse in my impeccable (!) french that my son's unmentionables are worth mentioning. She asked me if he'd ever been there before. Each time I respond with the same, "Unfortunately", and each time, the triage nurse seems surprised by my response.
So after a "baby doc" & another "baby doc" (my terms for inexperienced, student doctors or fresher docs) looked at Parker, they decided to consult a more experienced doctor who plainly & simply determined he likely has a fungal infection from his antibiotics. She sent us home less than an hour after walking though those dreaded doors with a prescription oral antifungal and topical antifungal.
As it turns out, I think she was spot on, since though the redness has not markedly decreased since that Saturday ER visit, he was a "new man" Sunday night, clapping, waving, blowing kisses & even climbing on things I've never seen him climb on before. Things are correcting themselves. We're constantly re-aligning.
And I told the "fluffy" school an official "yes" only to have our regular speech therapist try & talk me out of it afterwards. Who knows why, but said we are not in a hurry to decide anything sine PJ is not even 2 years old yet. Of course I agree, but I want to stimulate him as much as possile & as best possible until I can't any longer. I can't help but wonder if she hasn't got his best interest in mind.
Me & Parker go back to CEOP tomorrow for some medical/psychological exams. I hope he wows them. I am trying hard not to think "handicapped" these days, but think of my cute cousin who at the age of 9 said to me, " I prefer to call it handi-capable".
He seems much more capable these past 2 days & to me he is extraordinary. Even though he is a huge pain.
