We have spent the last month and a half in an out of the doctors' offices dealing with Jett Boy's ears again. Three antibiotics, a round of steroids, nose spray, drops, mucinex, and zyrtec later it was decided his third set of tubes would go in this morning.
It's been a long month in an out of offices. It's hard to contain a toddler in a germ infested office. I have been over the top worried about Ebola lately and the wait in these offices has been tough. Jett is all about playing until the white coat or the blue scrubs come in to the room. He is OVER it.
And now my sweet babe is resting peacefully beside me. He made it through his third surgery in 11 months. I'm kinda over paying the surgery center. I'm over antibiotics. I hope my sweet love bug is over ear issues now that the winter is upon us. Time will tell.
It's been a month since my dad left this world. A whole month since I heard his voice. It's amazing the strength the Lord gives you to get through things when you think the world should just stop. I will never write about the thousands of hours Daddy and I spent chatting about the future or our plans to change the world. We didn't have those talks and we didn't have those plans, but we had our time, our traditions, and our normal.
It's that normal I miss. It's the early morning talks on the phone in the mornings as I drove to Oxford I've missed this month. I think we both found delight in seeing which one of us could call the other earlier. This summer as his treatments got fewer and fewer he would sleep later and I would win the wake up the call contest. Our conversations had a normal rhythm. We talked about the time, the weather, Jett, work, his plans for the day, my plans for the week, and by the time I rolled on to campus I was letting him of the phone. On one particular morning it was foggy and I remember how on foggy days he called me first to make sure I knew to follow the lights of the car in front of me, and be careful. A long time truck driver he always had road ready rules he was willing to share over and over again.
With Halloween coming up I remember last year it being so important for me to take Jett by so he could see him in his costume. I'm just sad for the moments that we won't enjoy together. Ours wasn't a daily visit, but the hard part is knowing the visits are no more, not weekly, not monthly, not ever.
Several times in the past month I've realized that I was given the greatest gift being able to be at his side when he took his final breaths, but also I've been disturbed by those moments, too. It's an odd place to be right now, and I will be the first to say this blog won't turn in to my place vent, but I want it to be documented how we coped and how life went on through the tears and the laughter.
I love a party. More than a party I love a toddler party. I love to plan, decorate, and get the babies together. Last year we had a few friends over on Halloween night, but it was a school night and made it tough to prepare and plan. So this year I sent invites out and moved it from our home to the courtyard around the block. I kept it super simple and enjoyed every detail.
It was a fun afternoon filled with friends. I can't believe it turned out so warmly, but it was shady in the courtyard and by party's end it wasn't nearly as hot.
It's been well known since before we knew Jett Boy that he would not be in two piece outfits until he was two. Cullen has only a few times made comments about it, and most people just go with it. My thought process is simple. Childhood is a journey not a race, and Jett will wear polos and khakis soon enough, and once he does he will wear them forever. There are only a few short years that it is acceptable to put boys in bubbles, collars, and jon jons and I plan on making the most of each one.
I found a sweet little two piece outfit in the back of Jett's closet that he was about to outgrow and one afternoon after the sitter I tried it on him. He just almost went in to full panic. The fact his tummy was easily accessible really sent him over the edge. He kept pulling at his sweater to try and make it touch his knees. My first alarm went off, I might have warped my child. I just made note we would have to do a two piece transition as we inch closer to age two.
The next day I found him with the sitter with each snap of his Jon Jon un done. I thought for a second she must have just changed his diaper, I quickly snapped him up and raced out the door. We had to make one stop before going home and I realized he had not only taken his shoes off he had begun unsnapping himself. Ahhhh. Snapped back up and headed home I heard him yell for me. I looked back to find both legs naked and his jon jon around his waist. I quickly told him to snap it back and the look he gave me could have knocked me dead in a second.
This weekend he was okay and we haven't had any snap issues, but in my mind I know I'm on borrowed time. Three months until I make my goal, surely I can hold strong for the sake of Southern style.