Sometimes Plan A Works

Well, I left everyone hanging last Friday with my Vacuum Cemetery post. Amazingly, Hubby was able to replace the belt and I'm happy to report: "We're up and running!" Sometimes Plan A works.

Now, on to bigger and better things. Four days and counting and we will be on the road to Disney World. How excited am I? As for now, I will describe my mood as anxious. I have list upon list of things that need to be accomplished before Friday morning. There are even list for the list.

Scooter and I began our adventures in Super Walmart. We headed directly to the snack and juice isle. Anyone brave enough to take an 18 hour drive will need to have a fully stocked cooler. Next we headed to the DVD Clearance section. Some oldie but goodie flicks that the children haven't yet seen were thrown into the cart. God bless the Mommy who invented the travel DVD player. (I didn't even research that statement. I know in my heart she's a Mommy.)

Next I headed to a new kid friendly hair salon I found on the internet. My little Scooter suddenly became God awfully frightened of these places about two years ago. Try as we may we finally had to break down and buy our own hair cutting kit. Shortly after getting tubes in his ears Scooter became hyper sensitive to noises. While some things haven't gotten better, other issues remain status quo. Sometimes ear plugs work; sometimes they don't. I often find myself sitting in the car with Scooter or redirecting his attention somewhere else while Potter and Hubby go and enjoy the activity we originally planned to do with the entire family.

So, all was well for about 10 minutes, and then it was Scooter's turn. Tears, screaming, shaking; he made the littlest of children there look like princes. I finally had to call it off. No bribing in the world was going to work on this kid, not even the Disney World vacation. (Which I'll admit, I tried). The Dialogue went something like this.

Me: Scooter, if you want to go to Disney on Friday, you'll need to get your hair cut.

Him: Why?

Me: It's very hot, and you have too much hair on your head, you'll sweat.

Him: No I won't.

Me: Your getting too big to still be acting like this. You have to learn to calm down and have a good time. It will be over before you know it.

Him: It's already over.

Me: Scooter, will you please get back in the chair?

Scooter: (Talking in third person) Maybe when Scooter gets bigger, you can bring Scooter back here.

Me: (Thinking to Myself) Hell No!

Me: (Saying Out Loud Now) There's no reason to come back if you don't at least try to get your hair cut today.

Him: (Looks at Hairdresser) O.K. then, Scooter won't be back!

Well how do you like those apples? My child is sillier than me. This is no fair. All I want is a nice haircut for him. Is it that impossible? The poor child looks like a really cute mop. The layers go on forever.

I've decided that later tonight we will try the "at home method" once again. It's never as good, and it often is uneven. But, it seems to be our last resort. What can I say? Sometimes Plan A Works, and Sometimes you need a Plan B,C, D, and E lined up just in case.

If You Could See What I Hear

There are some things that just can't be explained in life. This week, there were no exceptions to that rule.

When my youngest was two years old we had tubes put in his ears due to the numerous ear infections he was experiencing. I went back and forth with the idea before actually deciding. Most of the doctors we spoke with advised us to have the procedure done, while there was only one that told us to hold off. She said that probably within a year the infections would be under control.

A year is a very long period when you have a sick child. There are sleepless nights, endless crying, continuous trips to the pharmacy, and a million prayers asking for that miracle drug that will put an end to the infections.

So we went forward with the surgery. And indeed everything did turn out alright. That was until about four months after the surgery. It was then that I noticed a very peculiar thing happening to my son. He began to hear things that were almost too quiet to hear. For example, my husband and I were whispering about something while he was in the other room. The following day, he repeated some of that conversation to me. I began to worry when he started complaining about the volume of certain things. So much so that he was unable to attend events like parades, fireworks, and parties where they were playing music. He even shied away from going to the movie theater.

His doctor insisted that he was fine, and that some children do indeed become sensitive to sounds since for so long what they heard was muffled. This seemed to be a likely explanation, but I couldn't help but be sad for my little boy who seemed to be missing out on so much. It was hard to determine just what sounds would set him off. Before the surgery he loved going to get his hair cut, but afterwards the buzzing from the razor was too much for him to handle. One doctor even suggested that it wasn't his hearing that was the problem, but that I may want to talk to a neurologist.

We tried ear plugs, which by the way, don't work that well in little ears. Then one day while taking a ride in our minivan, my son put on the earphones that come with the DVD player. It was as if a light bulb went off. From that day forward, we never went anywhere without those earphones. They became his safety net... and our sanity.

But just last week, nearly two years after the surgery, another breakthrough occurred. My son asked me to take him for a haircut. For the past two years my husband has been cutting our sons hair. Well, that's putting it nicely. In actuality it often would look like a horror movie was being filmed on our back porch. From the crying to the screaming to the down right temper tantrums, most of the time our son would reappear with a not so even trim. My husband would enter behind him dripping in sweat and swearing: "This is the last time!" Needless to say, when my son asked me to take him to get his hair cut, my van couldn't drive fast enough.

I did my civic duty by first warning the hairdresser that this was the first time in a year that my son had gone to a salon, and chances were good that the situation could go very bad. Turns out, the warning wasn't necessary. He was an angel. He looked so handsome. The hairdresser gave him a lollipop and we were on our way.

I tried not to cry, but I'm sure some tears slipped by. Our car ride home was filled with so much excitement, especially since my son had one more request to make. "Hey Mom," he said. "I think I'm ready to go to the theaters now."

We shared a bucket of popcorn.