My Man-Child and how I cured him with my touch

This is a momentous day in the Calem household. Our first child turns 18 and that means I am a mother to a MAN.

Scan 2

Happy Birthday little Grey-Boy!

Naturally, this has me reminiscing back to the early days of being a new mother. Since today I’m alternating between being happy and proud with being weepy and melancholy, I thought I’d share a story with you from when I was a brand new mom, making brand new mommy mistakes.

And also because I like to laugh at myself. I hear it keeps you young … and clearly I need all the help I can get.

So, back when our son was still a chubby mass of cuteness, before we had a computer, the internet and the wonderful world of Google, it was just me and the baby at home alone to figure things out on our own.

One time I was changing his diaper and to my horror, there was a raised, flesh-toned ring on his groin area. My heart dropped. My son had some rare form of ringworm, or maybe something even worse. With him still naked on the change table, hoping he wouldn’t pee on me, I called the pediatricians’ office in a complete panic.

How did he catch this disease? How serious was this? What kind of mother lets her perfect baby get something, anything?

As I was being connected to the nurse, I decided to examine this ring a little closer. I thought perhaps I should even touch it so I could tell the nurse what it felt like.

I reached out and gently pressed this ring and … it moved!

I told the nurse I’d made a mistake. No, really, I figured it out myself. Thanks very much.

You see folks, when I touched my precious child’s incurable ailment, I realized it was a CHEERIO.

That’s right. A soggy (gross!) cheerio that had made its way into his diaper.

I pretty much healed him right then with my touch. ~sheepish grin~

Okay, so your turn. If you are a parent, please tell me you’ve done something like this too. Make it up even, so I don’t feel quite so ridiculous!

grey young senior pic

Miraculously, that cute little boy above, with the soulful bedroom eyes, grew up into a fine man, ready to make his way in the world, to find the right path for him to follow. It will be so hard to release my grasp on him and let him make his own way. I pray I will always light a path for him to find his way home.

grey senior pic

About these ads

About Ginger Calem

I never met a notebook I didn't want to buy. Pens speak to me. Sticky notes are dear to my heart. Some of my best friends are those clambering in my head trying to get onto the page. And when they have their stories told, and I release them to the world, I hope they'll be your friends too.

Posted on February 19, 2014, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 17 Comments.

  1. That is absolutely hilarious! Happy Birthday to Grey & WTG Mom and Dad for raising such a handsome, smart young man!

  2. Omg, you have a man-child! You’ve come so far from the scourge of a rogue soggy Cheerio. Cracking up. Great blog.

  3. OMG, Ginger – hilarious!! Literally laughing out loud.

    When Liam was one, I was convinced that he had the same rare blood disorder my mom had – methemoglobinemia, which causes a persons extremities and lips (and in really extreme cases, whole bodies) to turn blue. I thought this because sometimes his lips would ‘turn’ blueish. The poor kid went through blood tests and chest x-rays (truly terrible for a little person to endure), and of course he had a clean bill of health.

    It took me FOREVER to realize that his lips were only ‘turning’ blue when he ate spaghetti, and that they weren’t really turning blue at all – it was just the spaghetti sauce was so red, it made the color of his lips look faded.

    HIP HIP HOORAY FOR FIRST TIME PARENTING NEUROSIS!

  4. Oh, Ginger. You still have so much to learn. They ALWAYS find their way back home. Hopefully he’ll be Cheerio-free in the nether regions when he does.

    Good stuff my friend. You raised a good boy. All I can say is “look out world, here comes another Calem.”

    Patricia Rickrode
    w/a Jansen Schmidt

  5. Hysterically funny, Ginger! Thanks for the laugh! Happy birthday to your handsome son. My son will be 34 next month. Good grief! He’s still a joker and was worse at 18. I remember he blew out his candles by blowing through his nostrils. Yeah, who wanted to eat that cake? I thought, “Seriously? He’s actually old enough for the draft?” Of course there wasn’t a draft at the time, and good thing! I still have the hilarious story you shared about your little girl when she was two, I think. I plan to publish it again because it’s one of the funniest parenting stories anyone has shared with me for my series! Have fun celebrating you son’s (and yours and your hubby’s) big day!

    • Hi Lynn! 34? Wow! But of course you do have those adorable grandbabies!! :)

      Ah yes, my little Pip! :) Happy to see her story shared. I have another really great one that came from my son, but he might actually kill me if I ever shared it. That’s a little blackmail I have in my back pocket! ;)

  6. What a nice looking young man Ginger. You must be so proud. Oh girl, my stories go back a little further than yours I’m afraid. It’s horrible how time flies. But I don’t know what we would’ve done without Cheerios! My thoughts go out to you with the impending graduation and vacancy in the Calem household. Oh girl, it’s one of the toughest things I ever had to deal with. You’re right. They take a big chunk of our heart when they leave. Thankfully, you will not be thrown into the life of an empty nester anytime soon. But I’m sending you hugs just the same. Take care and stock up on the Kleenex! :)

  7. Ha Ha! That is hilarious! A cheerio. I don’t have kids, but I do remember the time my little brother, at the age of three, locked himself in the bathroom when our parents were out and he was home with a babysitter. When she got the door open she discovered he’d given himself a hair cut. My parents came home to the babysitter in tears and my little brother happy as could be, but bald in patches. Oh, they laughed so hard when they told me about it. Poor babysitter. She was the only one traumatized.

  8. Love this. Happy Birthday to your son who has survived his parents ineptitude. Aren’t we all inept in the beginning?

    I was a hugger. Whenever the kids got hurt, I hugged first and then asked what happened. Did I mention that I had Irish triplets? That’s three kids under two, eleven months apart. My daughter was in the middle, between two boys that I thought were slightly wild. Hey, I came from an all girl family. What did I know.

    Anyway, when they were two, three, and four they were playing in the bedroom when I heard a crash and she started crying. So I’m hugging her and thinking to myself, “if she’s crying, why are the tears running down the back of her neck?” I looked at my hand filled with blood. It seems the bunk bed ladder had gotten knocked off and the metal clip had hit her in the back of the head. If wasn’t as bad as I first thought. I managed to stop the bleeding. Lesson learned: Look first, then hug.

    • Oh, poor you at the sight of that blood! I’m glad it wasn’t bad. I do think you’re on to something with the hugs though. I try very hard to give hugs and love first but it sure is hard sometimes!

      Irish Triplets!! Cracked me up!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,538 other followers

%d bloggers like this: