The Waiting Game (Warning: Somewhat Graphic)

The biopsy went as planned. Monday morning I woke up, drove to my friend's house so she could accompany me and we drove to my doctor's office while talking about the arrival of her new baby (she's 39 weeks pregnant).

As my doctor explained, there would be a slight pinch as she numbed me with a Novocaine-type shot. She asked me not to move, but said that yelling out would be OK. I did yell out loud when the needle pinched and then burned but, immediately, the Novocaine went into effect and I could no longer feel any pain. She began to cut out the lesion with a scissors.

She worked quickly and before long, she was done and sending me off on my merry way. I was walking a bit slowly at first since it was slightly uncomfortable, but the pain did not kick in until I sat down in the car and realized that sitting was going to be the most unpleasant thing for me while I heal.

My friend drove us back to her place where she made me a latte and we sat for a while until I felt ready to go back to work. Yep, I went back to work, although the worst part of the whole thing was that I of course did not get any sleep the night before, so I was exhausted, uncomfortable and in pain.

I didn't stay long at the office. I went home and took a much-needed nap before picking up my son from preschool. After not seeing him for 3 days it was great to be able to bond with him and spend time just watching him and listening to him explain his weekend, his day at school, and all about his favorite toys.

The waiting game begins. My doctor says it'll be 1-2 weeks before the results come back. My patience is already pretty thin, so I'm wondering how many more sleepless nights I'll have until the results come back.

Too Much Information

I have a biopsy scheduled for Monday. It was actually supposed to be yesterday but I had to reschedule it. I'm hoping that I can take the day off and recover but since I'm such a workaholic I will probably end up going into the office afterwards.

If you Google the word biopsy, you come up with all sorts of medical sites that use words like pathology and malignant and cancer. CANCER.

What a test for someone who - in just the last 15 months - has been through a high conflict divorce, tried to maintain 3 jobs while raising my son and has had a different sort of health scare.

My gynecologist, who's been my doctor for 8 years now, recently discovered a mole that has grown considerably in the last year. I noticed it prior to the visit but although I knew that it was something to be concerned about I still chose to ignore it. She, of course, cannot, and was very adamant about removing it right away.

The fact that her reaction was so reactive is what startled me about the whole thing. I knew it was not something to be ignored so the health scare that brought me into her office in the first place actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I probably wouldn't have caught it, or brought this to her attention, otherwise.

I recently turned 30. It seems like everything is coming at me at once now. Don't things usually happen in 3s? If that's the case then this would be the third and final strike against me.

My hair is turning gray, probably from lack of sleep and stress. But, it's better than the alternative so my plan is to grow older gracefully and continue to just let it be.

Just this past week my mom came out to visit. It broke my heart having to tell her what's going on with me and I could see the pained look on her face when I told her about the procedure.

And then there are those who I haven't said anything about this to. My sister, my friends back "home." I figure that I'll wait to see if there's anything worth mentioning. After all, it could be nothing. It could just be the thing that makes me focus on the future and to be sure that I get what I want from this life and share it with the people who mean the most to me.

Luckily I have some very good female friends here who I can talk to about these things. A few of these women have been through similar experiences.

I have a pretty positive attitude despite the fact that the results of this biopsy are going to either make or break my future plans. I do anticipate buying a lifetime supply of wigs if need be so if it comes to that, you can guarantee I'll have photos posted with my new hairstyles. Maybe I should plan for that either way.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Ouch and Oh No!

My son cut me with a razor blade last night. I know. It sounds painful, which it was, but it was more devastating to me that I wasn't paying attention to the fact that the razor blade was within his reach.

To make a short story long, my son wanted very badly to help me hang up a new wall fixture. I took out the tool box and grabbed the hammer. He climbed up on the stool with me and was helping me pound in the first few nails but he got pretty bored and decided to climb back down the ladder while I finished the project.

So, there I am, two steps up the ladder, pounding the nail into the wall with one hand while trying to hold on to the fixture with the other and I suddenly feel this painful and somewhat familiar feeling on my leg and before I even look down, I know what's happening.

Sure enough, there is my son, holding a bright yellow razor blade which he pulled out of the tool box and dragged down my ankle towards my foot. I took a deep breath - stopped myself from screaming at him like I wanted to do - and stepped slowly down the ladder and asked him to hand the razor blade to me.

I pointed to my leg and the blood dripping down my foot and asked, "Did you see what just happened?" His face went white as he realized that it was blood and that he was responsible.

I had one of two options here. I chose to focus on the blood first so I insisted that he help me clean it up and put bandages on. Since it was a nice, straight line down my foot, and since I did not want band-aids with Winnie the Pooh characters highlighting my new boo-boo, it took 4 standard size band-aids to cover it up.

He knew that he did something wrong but seeing as how he was merely experimenting with this new tool, I really couldn't punish him. After all, he has never seen a razor blade before and had no idea what would happen when he used it the way he did.

We had "the talk" where I pointed out to him that Mommy made a big mistake in having the tool box out and not paying attention to what he was doing. I told him how important it is to not touch tools unless an adult says it's alright.

If I had to do it over again, I would've put the tool box back in the cabinet where it's usually kept - above the refrigerator - where even I have to get out a step stool to retrieve it.

If I had to do it over again, I'd take the razor blade out of the tool box and replace it with this awesome Klever Kutter that I recently discovered through one of my favorite sites, PreschoolRock.com.


My son is now at that stage where I need to take home safety issues more seriously. After all, he's his father's son, which means he is curious, confident, and especially comfortable with tools so it's no surprise that he would pick something up and test it out.

Luckily, he was not hurt. And I have learned a valuable lesson. And, while I should know better, I have to wonder if single parents end up in the emergency room with their children more often than those with a co-parent in the same home?

I'll have a scar, no doubt, from this little experiment, but I am going to be much more diligent about home safety and keeping tabs on him.

Yep, another reason to vote for me for the Parent of the Year award. Have you heard of it? Do you have your own parenting stories to share? I sure hope so because I'm feeling pretty down about the situation and could use other people's stories to help me focus on the fact that there are other parents out there who may have regrets about what they've said or done. I can't even keep track these days...

Rough Night

My son had a great day at school. Or so I thought when I picked him up. He was wearing different shorts and there was a plastic bag filled with what I assumed were his wet underwear and shorts that he was wearing when I dropped him off this morning.

"Did you have an accident?" I asked, assuming that he had pooped in his pants since this was something we'd been working on. He told me that he had peed and I didn't make a big deal of it but added, "You didn't make it to the bathroom in time?" He shook his head, "No," and then grabbed my hand to leave. He was the last child there for the day so he was ready to go home. So was his teacher.

I didn't notice the bandage on his knee until I was getting him buckled into his car seat. I noticed his right knee and mentioned it to him. That's when he showed me his left elbow and the bandage there. I asked him what happened. He said he fell. I didn't ask any details but made a mental note about the fact that his teachers didn't mention anything to me about him falling.

He didn't have much to say on the way home. I kept trying to ask him questions about his day, and trying to keep him from falling asleep.

Everything was fine until it was time to hop in the bath. I took of his bandages and noticed that his elbow was pretty raw. He looked at it as soon as the band-aid came off and immediately started crying. I cleaned him up as quickly as I could and tried to comfort him at the same time.

When I realized that there was nothing I could say to help him to calm down, I asked him if there was anything I could do to help him feel better. He said, through his tears, "Yes, you can not send me to school in underwear anymore." I was completely confused but figured that he was upset about the fact that he had an accident and was tired and was thinking about school and his day and all of his emotions were unraveling at once.

"You don't want me to send you to school in underwear?" I asked, hoping he could somehow make sense of it for me. He went on to explain that he was outside playing when he realized that he had to go to the bathroom. He ran to try to make it in time, but ended up tripping and falling. He was still crying pretty hard while he was telling me this but he told me that he fell, didn't cry, but then didn't end up making it to the bathroom in time.

I'm hoping that after a good night's sleep he'll be ready to put on his clothes for school and march in there ready for a brand new day. He's pretty brave and the fact that he didn't cry when he fell made it that more heartbreaking to see him have a meltdown over the situation when he was given the opportunity to talk about it.

He's a sensitive little man and I'm proud of him for being able to express himself with me. I tell him every day that he can come to me and talk to me about anything and everything.

It wasn't until he had fallen asleep for the night when I thought back to the time when his friend had an accident in school and when his father came to pick him up at the end of the day, had taken him aside and reprimanded him for not being able to do his business on the toilet.

I can't imagine what would happen to the bond between my son and I if instead of letting him take his time and explain the situation when he was ready, I had punished him or made him feel bad about having peed in his pants.

It's so easy to make the wrong decision or react in a way that might not be the way we would do things under different circumstances, but it's great to see that my patience and allowing him to be responsible for his emotions has helped him to work through his thoughts and gather the strength to share exactly how he feels. Not every little boy (or girl, for that matter) will hold on to this ability but I'm working on teaching my son how wonderful it is to be free to cry, laugh and remain silent when the words just aren't there to be said.

Bite Marks

My 3.75-year-old son bit me this past weekend. Not that he's never done this before but this time he left a mark, a very large bite mark that has now turned into a major bruise. It turned black and blue instantly, but is currently an ugly yellow and is not looking as though it will begin to fade for quite some time.

As a newly Certified Parent Educator through the International Network of Families and Children (INCAF) I think it's only fitting that I start out this blog by saying that no one is perfect. Neither parent nor child are going to go through life without conflict and frustration. That would take away all of the fun, right?

I am a perfectionist, however, so my intention is to help other parents learn from my (plethora of) mistakes by using my own examples in the Redirecting Children's Behavior (RCB) 5-week course and individual workshops that are offered through my newly formed company (and the name of this blog), Happy Healthy Hip Parenting (HHH).

Somehow, I feel as though admitting to having made mistakes along the way will not only help ease my guilt, but to also provide an atmosphere where the participants in my course look to me as a peer and not someone standing in front of them telling them what to do or how to be a better parent. Because, after all, each child is unique and each situation will require a different solution. I am here to offer a supportive and open environment where parents learn new skills, learn from one another, and learn more about themselves and their children.

I also think this will help me to learn to laugh at myself more often because they say that laughter is the best medicine and I am all about self-medication! ;^)