Saturday, February 04, 2012

Baby I Was Born This Way

My youngest child seems to have been born cool. He was an average size baby at 7lbs, 4 oz., appearing with a tuft of reddish-blond hair that made him resemble an old statesman. Everyone had an opinion about who he looked like. My paternal grandmother took one glance and declared him a Fraser. In the nursery, he lay serene and alert among a colony of screaming newborns. The nurses styled his baby fuzz, bringing him into my room each time with a different jovial announcement. “Introducing little Elvis Christie" or "Here is James Dean Christie,” they would say, and I really got a kick out of that.

“Every time you look at him he’s got this expression on his face like he’s thinking, Watz up!?” another nurse told me, laughing. “We all have a crush on him,” she added.

Let the record note that my youngest son was, at that moment, alive for less than 48 hours. The nurse, on the other hand, was at least 27 years-old and that’s when I knew this boy would surely give me a run for my money- in multiple ways.

Today, at four years old, he rules his preschool, stopping in every classroom each morning to high five other teachers. He’s even got nicknames for them like “Big Cat” and they don’t seem to mind. When I pick him up in the afternoon sometimes all the children will be playing freeze dance, and my son is the one with the plastic microphone and headset stomping and spinning like a mini version of Kevin Bacon in Footloose.

This past week I had a little scare that landed us in his pediatrician’s office. My youngest woke up complaining of pain in his stomach and thigh.

“Go to school and if you feel queasy tell your teacher,” I said.

“But I can’t walk so good, Mama,” he told me.

And as I observed him hobble across the room and yell “Ouch!” when I tried to secure him into his car seat, I wondered if the demons, in their seemed determination to flatten me emotionally this year had sent another case of appendicitis . (My oldest had an appendectomy and subsequent infection in the fall.)

But the doctor said no, thank God.

“It’s toxic synovitis,” he decided, matter-of-factly.

“What the hell is that?!” I shrieked.

“It’s a swelling of the hip joints that can result from a stomach virus … It’s common in little boys his age and should go away on its own, but I want to check him again tomorrow morning,” said the doctor, who added, “You can take a deep breath and calm down. There will be no appendectomy today Mrs. Christie.”

Then the little patient chimed in.

“Just go to calm-down-dot-com, Mom, to learn more about how to calm down,” my little wise guy said, shrugging and high fiving the doctor, who, turning out of the preschooler’s view, mouthed the words, “Mrs. Christie, I’m praying for you.”

1 comment:

Caity said...

Oh my gosh. What a riot! How adorable! I'm glad that he was alright and it was nothing serious but I'm sorry it was scary! At least life is never boring, right? :)

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Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.


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