Kelly Seeks

I have a few things to say about God. 1) He has a sense of humor when it comes to my life and 2) he never closes a door on me without opening a window I can jump through first. And last night in our household was no different.

Our son suffers from a rare medical condition on top of PPD-NOS. He requires weekly medical treatments involving needles, tubings and a pump. And because my mommy heart hurts so much seeing the pain and discomfort he experiences, I treat him to dinner that night of.

Yesterday was no different. Daddy is finally home and soon he and I will be back to doing B’s medical treatments ourselves (while Hubs was gone we had a at home nurse). We ordered dinner and watched a movie after. Everything was normal until about midnight. B walks into our room, naked from the waist down saying he “freaked out”. Mommy warning sirens sounded and I pushed hubs out the bed to go deal with the situation. See, I can do blood, poop and boogers; however when it comes to vomit I check out.

Hubs was helping B and I was praying to God to watch over our son and for the mear fact Hubs has only returned home from deployment two weeks prior. I helped clean up the floor and was also thankful B had enough foresight to make it to the bathroom and spared his bed. His clothes were a different matter. After all said and done B was cleaned up, re dressed and sent back to bed under the assumption he ate too much of a new buttery grease food at dinner.

As Hubs and I lay in bed trying to fall back asleep we started laughing at remembering how on R and R we had another medical run in with B. Only this time it was a much more delicate matter. Following is the story that will forever be called the “manhood” story in our home. Warning to all males who read this- it might cause sympathy pains.

Hubs had been home on R and R for about a week. His was early on in the deployment due to the birth of our third child. He got to meet SB at seven weeks. Luckily for B though daddy was home to help facilitate the healing process of the “manhood” incident. Like I said before, God as a sense of humor when it comes to my life, and this situation was no different.

B is fully potty trained, and anyone who has a child with autism or any medical condition can understand what a immense relief it is to be at this point. So, B goes potty while we are at home bonding. Screams are heard from the bathroom and up I jump knowing it was a scream of pain. I open the bathroom door, finding B strangling the life out of his manhood. Holding it so tight, it’s cutting of blood flow; and B is sobbing. As a woman I can only guess how we got to this point. So God, taking mercy on me and place Hubs home at the right time to deal with this is a blessing. I call Hubs, in between laughs (I had to admit the sight was to funny). Hubs saunters in and a smile crosses his face as he realizes B has joined the world of manhood and learning to take care of said manhood. Hubs crouches down and asks B if he got said manhood stuck in his zipper. B replies no, and still won’t let go of manhood. Hubs takes another look asks if the lid fell on manhood. B nods and slowly let’s go feeling the severity of the situation has passed. However, releasing manhood has also let the blood flow back into him, causing; you guessed it- blood to flow out of the tiny needle sized cut.

For most men, I assume this is alarming. But for a young child, with autism, who freaks at even the tiniest of “bleeds”; this is alarming, terrifying and a life lesson. Immediately as he let go and the blood flow was restored and wound bleeding, B clenches is again. Acting as if a appendage was cut off; he starts hysterically screaming. It doesn’t help that Hubs and I are both now on the floor doubled over laughing. Finally we realize B is in need; he thinks he needs a bandaid. As a mommy I want to put such magical bandaid and ice on my baby’s boo boo, but this is where God sending my husband home, comes in. Hubs freaks out at the mention if ice and explains to me the sensation that will bring. As for the bandaid request, Hubs patiently tries to explain to B bandaids don’t go there. B is unresponsive. Beside himself, all he can do is keep repeating “I need a bannndaid!”. Trying to be as accommodating as possible, Hubs sets B on the counter and cuts a tiny dime size bandaid and places it on manhood. Magically, manhood feels better and all is mostly forgotten. Until the next day- in public.

Since Hubs is on R and R we spend a lot of time enjoying our surrounds here in Hawaii; including some fabulous mom and pop restaurants on the North Shore. With the terrible threesome in tow we hit the open road. After spending a relaxing and uneventful lunch at Breakers, B tells us he needs to use the potty; and potty-training CB decides to tag along.

So here I am with B and CB in a public restroom, that is NOT part of the restaurant itself. Space is so limited on the North Shore that a lot of buildings share restrooms in hallways connecting. So it is not like if something were to happen and I needed Hubs help, he would be within distance to hear my cries. And so it goes, I needed help; bad. B early goes in the stall by himself. As he goes, I get CB on a toilet of her own. In between the two stalls was on that was be occupied. CB starts to scream as one of her “awesome” autism ticks kicks in. Afraid of the toilet flushing on its own and her being taken down with the retreating water, she starts thrashing around the stall screaming bloody murder, just as you guessed it, B starts screaming himself. “It’s everywhere! It wont stop, make him stop!”. I immediately try and pull CB out of the stall and her door is locked. Luckily for once, he left the door unlocked. And as I opened it, i got a eye full. Some how the little-magical-size-of-a-dime bandaid had slipped over, the er, opening. Pee was everywhere. The walls, toilet, and most importantly, B. B has two fears, dirty clothes and blood. So now we are faced with both. Clothes soaking in the pee, and a tiny needle sized cut on manhood. I tell B the bandaid needs to come off. It is no more protecting the boo boo, but rather acting as a sponge soaking in his pee. B agrees seeing the urine drip off the bandaid; and starts to tug. And I mean TUG. I had never seen such a sight as a man/boy pulling feverishly trying to get something off. All the while he is screaming and crying because that was one hell of a hold that bandaid had. Knowing it needed to come off B asks me to help. At this point im a little perplexed as how to handle this. Surely, this has happened to mommys before. But is it appropriate for me to rip a bandaid off my very young son?

Needless to say, the bandaid needed to come off some how and since Hubs was far away in the restaurant; I had no choice. I walk into the stall, kneel down and gently start tying to pull his bandaid off. CB is still screaming about the toilet sucking her down, and now B is screaming more. This time in regards to my actions.

“No! Don’t touch me. Don’t touch it! STOP! Leave me alone!”. Over and over I hear him – and then it hits me. There is still a woman in the stall between B and CB. The panic that washed over me was a tidal wave and I soon began to slowing back out of his stall. I climb under CB’s and get her out and calmly tell B that we need to get his dad to help. I am praying this woman is not calling the police and CPS. And all i can really do is laugh. I bring both kids out and relay the story to Hubs. Telling him we had to head straight home for fresh clothes for B and a shower; hoping the steam would loosen the adhesive. In the meanwhile, I gently had to use my finger nail to push the oh-so-magical-now-soping-wet-with-pee bandaid back on top of manhood.

Luckily for me; and Hubs, the same event happened all over again the next day. This time only to Hubs, who came walking out of the restroom ALONE, doubled over in laughter. So God does have a sense of humor for us. And I am thankful every day he shares it.