Love is Blind

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  • Calamity G.

     

     

     

     

    My darling tot has an ambitious mind and legs to support it.  The moment I explain to her that roads are dangerous and hills are steep, and NOT to go whichever way it is she isn’t supposed to go– she makes a run for it.  GiGi and I were playing in the front yard of my sisters’ home on Wednesday and instead of giggling over the furry bunny rabbit hopping about the front yard, she opted for falling.  Not once, but several times.

     

    The yard has a tiny slope to it and in the midst of some serious running momentum; GiGi stumbled and ran into the cute scalloped brick border around one of the breezy trees.  She slammed into them and then rolled down the tiny hill. *tiny* hill.  Her poor shins are scratched to pieces and both bare bluish purple bruises that make me feel like crap every time I see them.  She shook it off pretty quickly and was more upset that I was holding her than the fact that she had blood on her legs.  She sprinted out of my arms and so I let her go.  Nothing appeared stitch-worthy and while I would like to have bandaged her up and pampered her little legs, she would have no part of it.

     

    She got a good five minutes of running in before she decided to venture toward the brick surrounded flower beds.  I stood in front of them, trying to plead with her to play with her cousin and explaining the harsh environment that roses lived in. Brick, thorns, and tiny baubles are not a girl’s best friend.  She screamed and screamed and when I redirected her to the lawn, she ran the other way.   She zigged, I zagged and the bushes caught her.  I rushed her inside to scope out the blood, bruises and tears and again, she only wanted down so that she could play again.  My child is a tiny Wolverine, an x-babe of indestructible force.

     

    The back of her right leg looks like I pulled a bush out of the ground and smacked her with it and her shins look like Tanya Harding got a hold of them.  Its sad. 

     

    We opted not to go back outside at my sisters house, so when we arrived home she was more than ready to run free outside.  GiGi is pretty simple when it comes to outdoor play.  Run, run, run and run some more toward danger (i.e. pools, roads, rosebushes.)  If not, she likes to swing or jump on the trampoline.  I say “jump” but its more like her sitting in the center while I jump around and watch her slightly fly into the air.  If I were to really jump, I’m sure that I could catapult her into...

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  • Taking the boss to the doctor

     

     

    I have a feeling that when GiGi wants to be picked up I’m not supposed to pick her up because somewhere along the lines she became a big girl.  Whatever it is that I do, I’m not supposed to do it, and that rule applies at all times.  *GiGi is the boss, according to GiGi. So it would stand to reason that she is the boss, not just in our home, but everywhere her feet or stroller take her.

     

    On Monday morning we had an appointment at the endocrinologist.  I say “we” because I am the one who talks a mile-a-minute to the doc, trying to recall every detail of GiGi’s  life from the last few months since he saw her, as well as the giant mental note I make of all those questions that come up between visits (see: Is she too skinny? Is she just thin?  Has anything come up?  Blood work? Lumpy things? Etc.).  I’m acutely aware of the remaining patients in the waiting room and their children.  Some come into the office with rolling IV contraptions attached to them and some are joined by other siblings and exhausted looking parents.  Seats are plentiful but fill up so quickly.  While I wait for our doctor to arrive in Exam room #2, I realize that he is not just our doctor, but at least half of those other patients’ doctor as well.  So I try to be respectful and organize my thoughts so that I don’t keep him longer than necessary, yet get all the answers GiGi needs.

     

    It’s like a medical quick fire.   And what better to accompany a quick fire, than a squirming toddler!

     

     

     

     

     

    (I didn't get any pictures of her at the Endocrinologist because of the crying and otherwise Regan MacNeil-like behavior. So then...here is my smiling little babe in a happier setting: The Franklin Park post-doctor trip.)  Explanation after the jump!

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  • Eye, Eye Doc!!

     

     

     

    Every few months GiGi and I take a visit to the Pediatric Ophthalmologist for a little check-up on the peepers.  Every visit since moving has been the same.  We wake up at the unbearably early time of 6 am and get dressed and amped for a 2 hour 15 minute drive at the least, 16 hour drive at the most.  Okay, not quite 16 hours, but bay area traffic can be an unpredictable bitch most times so you never know.  Our Doctor (yes, “ours”) is one of those amazing men who has the wonderful gift of being a patient and child friendly doctor as well as extremely positive for parents who need optimism more than oxygen on some days.  His billing department sucks my hypothetical balls and he only works on Wednesdays which makes it a slight pain to travel to him.  GiGi is my entire heart and soul, so I would gladly do this every week if I had to.

     

    I’m just, you know, sayin’ is all….

     

    My little silver bullet of Ford wonderment arrived five minutes early for a 10 o’ clock appointment.  Being early is a skill I really don’t often posses so I changed GiGi and sang her a few songs while letting her bounce on the back end of my car for a few minutes.  Once we were actually in the office and all signed in, the wait was about ten minutes or so.  Then we went back to the exam room and waited long enough for me to...

     

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About the Blogger

Love is Blind

Megg Lasswell in Oakland.

This single mom moved home at age twenty-seven to raise her blind toddler, leaving city buildings behind and trying her best to embrace farm life outside Oakland. She is working on her first book in between indie-rocking out with her daughter GiGi and teaching her the simple things in life.

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