Since Prince Mekhi joined the royal house of Castle Curley, his family has become our Framily. One of his sister’s also calls me “Mama #2”, and I’m the closest thing to a sister that Lisa, Mekhi’s bio-mom, has ever had. I took her for a medical procedure earlier in the year, and I was supposed to take her again in earlier this month for another outpatient surgery, but something came up in her blood work. We are listed as emergency contacts for her, and Lisa is designated as a Duchess of Castle Curley. She’s still working on the paperwork to grant us official guardian status of Mekhi should (Gods forbid) anything happen to her, or if (Gods forbid) we need to take him to the emergency room (ER) again.
My Son is Full of Sh!t (literally)
In my first blog entry this year, I briefly mentioned an emergency incident with Mekhi that made me freak (and you’d think someone trained in first aid and other emergency preparedness wouldn’t freak, but I did); now for the details.
Mekhi and I were headed to his karate class one cold January night when he started feeling abdominal pain so severe that he didn’t want to go to class. Of course, my first freakish thought was appendicitis, and I wanted to rush him to the ER; yet I couldn’t because I had no legal right to do so. I frantically called Lisa, then drove Mekhi to her home. They spent the majority of that evening in the local ER, but the doctor suggested waiting overnight to see if the pain diminished before subjecting (then nine-year-old) Mekhi to either an X-ray or surgery.
The next day Lisa texted us; they were back at the ER on the advice of Mekhi’s school nurse. Brian and I rushed to join them, then spent the afternoon waiting in typical ER fashion. Although Mekhi was grounded from electronics for bad behavior at school, we three parents agreed that restriction could be lifted when the nurse gave him a tablet to keep him entertained (and not worried) while waiting. Eventually we were told to take him to the pediatric ER at UW Hospital.
The place was under construction, but still functional. The doctors ordered an X-ray that came up inconclusive. Mekhi either could have appendicitis or constipation. Obviously the first course of treatment would be for the latter; an enema is far less invasive than surgery, although infinitely more embarrassing for a nine-year-old. Mercifully the nurse was cool (tattoos, piercings, and spiked and colored hair), professional, and very quick with this most embarrassing part. Then Mekhi had to run to the nearest bathroom, which was further away than usual due to the aforementioned construction.
Actually what was (and still is) more embarrassing for Mekhi is all the crap jokes that Lisa, Brian, and I told and have been telling since that night. He still turns bright red when we mention it, or when he gets constipated again and we have to “reboot his butt” with a laxative designed for children. Upon informing him that we’d be telling this story at his wedding, Mekhi declared, “That’s why I’m never getting married.”
Easter 2015
Last year for Easter, we tried going to my brother Fran’s house for his family’s egg-hunt, but we didn’t make it due to car trouble halfway there. However, earlier in the day, when I dropped my Easter basket full of candy, both Mekhi and Brian applauded my fumbling my dexterity check. (For the record: the Easter baskets are almost all candy and one toy; I really don't spoil Mekhi - much.)Mercifully later in the day when Brian tripped in a parking lot, Mekhi knew better than to applaud. I have a lovely picture of Brian and Mekhi working on our car together.
Quick Wit
On a similar road trip, I said to Mekhi, “Have I ever told you the story about how I quit smoking?”
My little prince replied, “No, Mom, and I don’t want to be here for the next five hours.”
Hm. Mekhi also was not interested in seeing the large scar from a surgery that was done on my back when I was younger than he was.
When we told Mekhi the saying about Wisconsin weather (If you don’t like it, just wait five minutes, and it’ll change.), he replied, “but in five more minutes it’ll change back.”
Other Treasured (and not so-) Moments in Parenthood
When Mekhi joined our family, he didn’t like to read. Brian had the best idea to encourage him to read: comic books. Since then while trying to talk with Mekhi, I frequently have received the look, “Can’t talk; reading.” Makes me smile.
Because Mekhi is African-American, I worry about his perception of police and their perception of him. Earlier in the year, he went outside to play with a toy gun that was missing the orange cap which identifies it as a toy.
Tonight, Mekhi goes for his red belt with black stripe in American Taekwondo. I must remember to bring tissues as Brian frequently has something in his eye during these events. So proud.
Pog ma thoin!
-Lori
“You just gotta love the children; reach your hands out to them, and they will hug you back.” -Lee Fair, father of nine foster children, on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
