Archive for 4-5 Years

The Children Are Less Patient

We were at a busy restaurant over the holiday weekend and my daughter began to get frustrated that the waitress did not bring her water right away.

Then the waitress committed the horrible sin of bringing out the adult beverages before the water.

“Mommy,” my daughter wailed, “She should have brought out the water before the wine because the children are less patient than the adults!”

I’ve always wondered about waiters that put hot plates and steak knives in front of toddlers (activating the lightning reflexes of the parents), bring out the kids’ food last, and think a two inch paper cocktail napkin is going to be sufficient for a young child.

Yet, I have to question the wisdom of my daughter’s words. I think we adults are far less patient than children. I watch my children all day long: waiting in lines, suffering my many parental missteps, and taking turns choosing books and toys. I can barely listen to 30 seconds of Musak before I’m ready to explode at the unlucky customer service representative who will pick up the line.

Adults are less patient than children–we’re just better at hiding it.

The Annual Knife Through My Heart Got Twistier

We are now on a yearly schedule for my daughter’s cardiologist. Yesterday was a good, if long (3 hours) appointment. The cardiologist and his staff were amused that my daughter brought her own pillow to the examination–they said that was the first time they had seen that in 20 years of practice.

We found out that valve replacement via catheter is now approved in the U.S. and I can only imagine how far the technology will go in the next 6-10 years.

I know I am so very lucky.

Still, the yearly recitation of the heart conditions on both sides of the family just became tragically longer this summer when my father-in-law, a good man and a loving grandfather, passed suddenly and unexpectedly.

And now that my daughter is four, her questions have become a lot more in-depth and probing and difficult to answer honestly, yet reassuringly and on an age-appropriate level.

I had an entire two days of:

Why doesn’t brother have to go to this doctor?

Why doesn’t he have a boo boo on his heart?

Why do I have a boo boo on my heart?

If they fixed the boo boo on my heart, why do they need to keep checking it?

What if it doesn’t look fixed?

Does surgery hurt?

If I have surgery, will they make all of me go to sleep or just part of me go to sleep?

If I wasn’t asleep, would it hurt? Why?

If I don’t have a valve now, why do I need one when I grow up?

What if they weren’t able to fix the boo boo when I was little?

If something happened to me, would you cry?

Did I dream when I was asleep during the operation when I was a little baby?

What did I dream about?

What is blockage? What is leakage?

Still, so lucky her condition was repairable. So very lucky to have a child who is alive and thriving and asking these questions.

And still so very scared sometimes.