It's Tough to Be Teddy's Mom

 Last week I ended up in tears one night. I'm sure it was a combination of stress from work, COVID and everything else in life. When I looked around our house, all I saw was the disaster of toys that is constant, unless I pick them up once Teddy goes to sleep. (And by toys, I also mean the random fork or bowl that he runs out of the kitchen holding and then deposits wherever he loses interest. And shoes all over the house.) When Dave asked me what was wrong, my answer was simply, "It's hard to be Teddy's mom sometimes." 

In many ways, Teddy is a toddler in a very tall and strong 7-year-old body. When he doesn't want to do something, it's challenging at best to redirect him. I can't easily physically redirect him like I could when he was younger, so we better stop our battles of wills before he becomes any stronger. When he wants something, it's harder and harder to keep him from it. We can only lock and childproof so many things, especially now that he's getting tall enough to reach our top cabinets. Any parent of a toddler knows that it's only a phase. The terrible 2s will pass, although any parent will tell you that 3 is worse than 2. There's no comfort when you live in a perpetual toddler stage with no end in sight ... at least not for the things that wear me down.

Don't forget that he has the coordination of a drunk monkey or a newborn giraffe. That wall there? Didn't see it and ran into it. The little flute in my mouth? Impaled that on the roof of my mouth when I fell on my bed. The stairs? Tumbled down them while mom watched but couldn't do anything because she was out of reach. Without the ability to tell us what hurts, beyond crying, it's tough to know whether he's injured. When you throw in the incredibly high pain tolerance (as in no tears for a full flight of stairs tumble), it's really tough.

Let's not forget the constant worry that Teddy will become ill, develop a fever and have seizures. After a few ambulance rides and an ICU stay, that's a constant worry. It increases every winter with flu season, and it's fair to say that living during a pandemic is not without it's fears. Even once a safe vaccine is developed, it still will be a concern, just as the flu is, because no vaccine is fully effective. We'll have to rely on those around Teddy to help protect him from himself because he clearly isn't capable of that (as I'm pretty sure one ambulance ride was caused by licking the plane seats on vacation to Disney). 

And I can't even start on all the things I fear he'll never do, like tell me I love you, speak, and all those "big" dreams we parents dream for our children.

When I start to spiral down these chain of thoughts, Dave's response comes to mind. "It's not easy to be anyone in Teddy's life." It's certainly not easy to be AJ, to be Teddy's brother. It's not easy to be Teddy's grandparents because they too have similar hopes for their grandchildren (and let's face it, their children as well). To see the struggles, to worry for all of us, is a part of their role as grandparents to Teddy. It's not easy for his cousins, with the chorus of "No, Teddy" or "No Teddy's allowed" as Teddy unknowingly destroys their creations or games. (And it's not easy for me as a mom to hear those refrains, even though I understand why they're said.) 

This imp pushes the limits and then rewrites them.

No, it's not easy to be in Teddy's world, at least not if you have a substantial role. But it is rewarding. He's learned to give the best hugs, not because he squeezes you tight and makes you feel like everything is all right. Rather, his version of a hug is most often going close enough to you that you can hug him, as though he's royalty allowing us peasants to be in his presence. When he's excited to see you, which could be anything from walking into a room unexpectedly to not seeing you in a longer period of time, his face lights up like Christmas day with genuine joy to see you. Teddy also redefines friendship and acceptance. It doesn't matter who you are, as long as you appear kind and smile, you are a friend. He smiles at so many people and reminds you how you can brighten a day with the power of a genuine smile. When something is fun or funny, he wants you to be a part of it to share in the wonder and pleasure. There is so much joy in such simple things in Teddy's world.  When he's finally sleeping, you can lay by him on those days that it's tough to be Teddy's mom and simply be with no judgement and pure love.