Wednesday, September 12, 2007


Bub is all boy. He's as rough and tumble as they come, which historically has been a challenge for us. All the rest of our family is very laid back. We all prefer hanging out at the book store, having coffee, going to the museum, catching a film. He enjoys all of those locations, but prefers swinging from the rafters whereever we are.

Now that he's older, it's a little easier. He understands there's a time and place for craziness, and that we will indulge his need for space and energy-burning, but when he was small, there was no understanding by him at all. He had two speeds: full-on or asleep.

We were genuinely concerned that he would not live to be four years old. He was a peaceful baby, but at about 18 months, we began to see him revving up. By two, he wanted to go full speed, but we were able to limit him quite alot. At three, however, the tide turned, and the wildness was out. Control was no more. He literally had stitches twice in his head from going headlong into the fireplace, lots of cuts and scrapes, more bruises than I've ever seen on any child, stitches on his buttcheek from one of many attempts at flying, and a broken collarbone from launching off a slide (maybe another attempt at flight).

At four, Bub was diagnosed with ADHD and began taking medication, which really helped him slow down. It was a struggle to decide to medicate because we were more of the school of structure and discipline, but for him, that was not enough. When the medication kicked in, he was like a brand new boy. He could sleep, he could sit down for a full meal, he could have a conversation and develop friendships and relationships. Anyway, from four on, even with ups and downs, life became so much easier.

Bub is now six, and will be seven in November. He's as bruised as any normal boy, and still has those random cuts and scrapes. Just before school started this year, we had an especially early summer morning. I gave him his first and second pill hours earlier than I normally do, and I then forgot his evening booster before we went to Celebrate Recovery. About 3:00 P.M., it was clear the medication had worn off.

As the afternoon progressed, he was much harder to manage, but more concerning was the fact that he was incapable of paying attention. When we got to church, he jumped out of the car after a craft paper that had just blown out the door. Not paying attention at all, he rotated and turned to stand just below the sharp corner of the open door.

I heard his head split. I watched his face as the realization that he had just really hurt himself became clearer. I watched the pain take over and the tears start to flow. As I was holding him, stopping the blood, and waiting the long hours in the waiting room for the staples, I remembered how crazy our life used to be, and how much I appreciate the boy we now get to know.


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