When you are wondering why it feels like your blood sugar is sky high at 4pm, please ask yourself whether you actually bolused for lunch or whether you just thought about bolusing for lunch.
And just because
P’ito, asking about our 5 year old neighbor: She in her crib?
Me: I think she probably sleeps in a big girl bed. When you’re ready, you’ll sleep in a big boy bed.
P’ito: Like Mommy & Mama?
P’ito: No, I sleep in a big MAN bed. With Dora & Elmo on it.
One of those conversations where, as every word comes out of your mouth, you think, g-d, I hope I’m getting this right. ‘
I really, really hope I’m getting this right.
A while back, we ordered a custom board book for P’ito from this store. It’s an infant version of the story of our family coming together.
Mommy and Mama wanted a baby to love.
They had lots of cats but no baby (composite picture of three cats, including Louie)
You were born on.. (photo of P’ito’s Guatemalan Mommy “M” and P’ito)
You lived at the hogar for 8 months
The nineras washed you and fed you and tickled you and loved you (Hogar photos)
Came home with us, we will always love you, etc. etc. etc.
We always fill out the details of the story a bit more as we look at the pictures. I have been saying for a while now that he grew in M’s belly and after she gave birth to him she knew that she wasn’t able to take care of a baby then, so she asked the hogar to find a home for him where he would be loved and grow up big and strong.
Tonight as we were reading the story, first he asked me where Louie was. “Mama, what that mean, die?” I stumble through how animals and people, when they get really old, their bodies get sick (BAD word choice) and stop working and then they die. This is when I wish I believed in a heaven. Stumble through reassurances – Mama and Mommy and (names of everyone in his life)’s bodies are working just fine (well, sort of. but yeah, working just fine) and they are not going to die (knock, knock, knock, kinehorah, kinehorah).
Then, as if that wasn’t enough parental angst for one night, he asked another question that I don’t have an easy answer for. We were talking about how Mama M couldn’t take care of a baby at the time he was born*, and he asked:
How do you explain complex and painful adult decisions to a two-year old?
Without worrying him?
*I read somewhere about the difference in emotional impact between saying take care of you and take care of a baby – any baby. The former implies a possible fault in the child, the latter keeps the emphasis on the first-family’s situation at that time.