Search This Blog

Sunday, January 13, 2008

A letter to Liz

Since Liz was born, I always thought it would be nice to write her periodic letters. That hasn't happened, even though we've got some nice columns that Brian has written. I'll try to post a few of them on occasion.

I've noticed other bloggers will write letters to their kids monthly, or during certain holidays, etc.. I'm not that organized, but I think I'll write a letter to her when I've got time and something to say. Could I be any more vague?

Liz, Every day, you stun me with your personality. You've developed a unique strategy for dealing with us when we say no to something. For instance, in the past "no" would result in a full-blown world-record tantrum.

Now, you seem to have learned that another strategy might work. For instance, if you want hot chocolate and we say "no," your response is: "But kids love hot chocolate. All kids need hot chocolate and like to drink it. Kids drink hot chocolate because it is good."

So, rather than just screaming, you've actually devised an argument meant to help all kids in society. It's as if you're defending every child's right to have hot chocolate. I'm not sure if you're developing a sensitivity to others, or simply using a smart strategy to try to get your way. Regardless, it's pretty impressive.

For the last few months, you've been no sleeping beauty. Each night, you've been waking up at least 3 times a night. Your daddy and I feel like we're going through those early months of interrupted sleep when you were first born. On one hand, we think it might simply be a "phase" you're going through. But on the other hand, we know you've got obstructive sleep apnea and we're fearful that this might be rearing its ugly head again.

We know if we call any of your doctors, they'll suggest a sleep study ASAP. This would be your fourth. The other three were pretty much nightmares, though you won't remember them. Our hesitance is mostly because there's just not a lot doctors can do for your type of sleep apnea. And, we're still hoping that it could be a "phase."

When you've woken most nights, you've crawled into bed with us, which assures we'll all have a restless night's sleep.

As I said, this is the hard spot for us especially with your achondroplasia. We don't want to put your through more tests, but we also want to make sure that the sleep apnea's not causing any more problems.

Since you've been born, this has been our biggest challenge. If you have a headache, we're immediately worried about hydrocephalus. If you're complaining of neck pain, we wonder whether your spinal stenosis has gotten worse. But we try to temper ourselves and not go crazy with worry. Not an easy thing to do. But this has gotten better over time. Luckily, you've got great doctors and I can call them in a minute's notice and get their suggestions.

For now, we'll keep monitoring your sleep. We think you're getting close to giving up naps. For the last few days, you didn't take a nap, but did sleep 11 hours each night. So, that's good.

What impresses me the most about you right now is your creativity. You and I and Daddy are often telling stories to one another. Your favorite right now is about duckies and fishes and sharks. Basically, I started making up a story on the top of my head about ducks and fishes that are taking the train downtown Chicago and then they encounter sharks while at a restaurant. Usually, the sharks and duckies and fishes become fast friends. Then, you'll tell the story making up your own ideas and it's quite entertaining.

You also continue to realize that you'll be a little person, but you also understand that when you get older, you can be a mommy, if you want to, and also work in a variety of careers. You often talk about working in construction, being a firefighter or building buildings.

You've also become fascinated with Poop. Yes, poop. Often, you'll start to tell a story, a joke or just talk about something and the grandiose ending is always: "poop." Seems like you shouldn't be doing this until you're 4 or 5. But regardless, it is what it is.

Quite impressively, you've also managed to carry on our messy-genes. Mostly, this comes from me. Remarkably, every time you eat a meal, the 5-foot area surrounding you is covered in cheese, tomato soup, jelly stains and peanut butter. And that can happen just when you're just eating crackers. It's really a remarkable ability. Some parents would hate the messiness. I admit we get tired of it, but honestly, it's something we're secretly proud of, but can never admit to. It's also the same when you're playing - inside or outside.

Each time, when we are with other kids, I am confident that if the "messy award" is given, you'll receive it. I've never seen a child that could even come close to beating you for this competition. The gold medal is always yours!

Rather than getting upset about it, my reaction mostly is, if you're messy, you must be having the most fun. After all, what are washing machines and cleaning solutions for, right?

One of the most unusual things you do right now is to eat a green pepper just like it's an apple. Several times, you've walked up to the refrigerator and grabbed a green pepper and started munching on it. Of course, you leave your mark and I'll eventually find the pepper (completely eaten) by following the trail of seeds.

All of these quirks just cause us to fall more in love with you every day. It's pretty amazing that both your daddy and I can see that you've taken on a few traits from each of us, but you're becoming your own person with your own distinct personality.

Love, Mommy

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

So I just discovered the blog and I've been furiously reading it when I should be sleeping. I can't help it. Liz cracks me up! I want dolls named Chuck and Bob and to eat green peppers like apples. As you said to her before about your nose, "Why not?"

Thanks for doing this. I love reading and learning about Liz and even though Hope has a different condition I can definitely relate to the constant worrying about small things being bigger than they seem and the endless specialists (and Hope is only two months old). I'm sure I'm going to be bugging you two a lot for advice down the road.

Give Liz a kiss for me - and Chuck and Bob. I hope they've settled into the family well. :)

Jennifer said...

Such a nice letter Lisa. It made me teary. Liz is lucky to have a mom and dad so obviously in love with her. She sunds like she's such a treat. I hope we can all meet some day.

Anonymous said...

what a sweet, funny kid she is! she just seems like pure joy, even with the occasional sleep loss.
i think whatever obstacles she faces, whether related to her condition or just growing up, won't be any match for her.

Tonya said...

Liz is a rowdy one! We will have to get her and Hannah together! They will have us rolling!

The hot chocolate thing, she's smart. There's no sensitivity, it's a rouse! Trust me, she'll come up some whoopers soon enough! Anything a little girl can get makes their hearts sing and they'll stop at nothing!!

Here's to a good night's sleep...what's that? I don't know, I haven't seen one in 1,2,6,9, yeah 9 years!