Our Big Adventure

Niko and I went on a big adventure today!

Actually, for most of you, this will be like the most mundane thing you’ve ever read, and you’re going to give me the stink eye. “That’s your big adventure,” you’ll ask disdainfully. “I have five kids under the age of six, and I routinely take them to doctor’s visits, aquariums, and discount outlet malls.”

Niko and I played in the front yard.

I KNOW RIGHT.

I have an Anxiety disorder. It’s with me all the time. It’s like this… I don’t know… this film that colors the world and makes everything vaguely terrifying, except for the things that are acutely terrifying. It is so much easier to just stay in the house, y’know? We have a tiny front yard, and it’s gated, and Niko can’t open the front gate (yet). But there’s no gate keeping him out of the back, which is where we park, and which opens directly onto the alley that people drive stupidly fast down. Also, there’s lots of gravel, broken glass, and rusty screws out there. We know this for a fact because Nesko’s car got a tire punctured by a screw, through the sidewall, so he got all his tires replaced (it was past time) and then about a month later another screw punctured a brand new tire through the sidewall and needed to be replaced HOORAY.

I don’t want my two-year-old running back there, because he has NO CONCEPT of danger, or that cars can hit him and kill him. In fact, one of his favorite things to do while walking with someone is to pull away as soon as he gets to the street/alley, dart into the middle, and stand stock still while staring around wide eyed. Most of our streets are one-way residential streets with speed humps, but people still will RACE REALLY FAST in the spaces between the speed humps or else down the alleys (to make up for lost time?) and they generally treat stop signs  as more a suggestion for other people (lessor mortals, perhaps) and not, like, a hard and fast rule that applies to them.

So leaving the house kind of fills me with terror. Really basic stuff can seem insurmountable. What if he poops and needs to be changed? What if he throws up? (he has not thrown up in MONTHS. He has thrown up 4 times in HIS ENTIRE LIFE, and one time was because he was carsick and one time was because he coughed too hard. WHY DOES THIS FREAK ME OUT.) What if he falls over and breaks all his limbs? What if he runs out in front of a car? What if my pants split open? (THIS LAST IS A REAL DANGER. DO NOT LAUGH.) (OK, you can laugh a little.) What if he gets tired and needs to be carried home, but my collar bone injury is acting up and it causes searing pain to carry him and then my lower back goes out? What if wild dogs attack us? Or wolves? WHAT IF THERE ARE WOLVES.

So I decided to start small today.

I got out some sidewalk chalk. SO FAR SO GOOD. I got both Niko and myself dressed. RIGHT ON. I got a bubble blower gun thing we’d just purchased at Target, and found that you need a tiny screw driver to install the battery. I hid the toy so Niko wouldn’t see it and demand to play with it. I got the camera. I herded us outside.

Niko fell down the stairs.

OH NOES, right? It wasn’t that bad. Our front stairs have a bit where the final 4 stairs kind of turn a bit and the hand rail doesn’t go all the way down. Niko got distracted by a scooter the upstairs tennants left in the front hall, missed a step, wasn’t holding onto the rail, and tumbled right down and rolled across the floor. Then he popped right up.

“Out,” he said. “Out!”

ALL SYSTEMS GO.

We went out for about half an hour. I walked around in the grass with no shoes on (bliss!). Niko scribbled on the sidewalk, found his new best friend (a rock, named “rock.” he likes to give it kisses.), and drove a truck along a raised wooden walkway only to throw it over the edge, holler “OH NO TRUCK,” go retrieve it, and repeat the process… over and over and over again.

He also figured out how to take his jacket off.

Niko really hasn’t figured out how to take his clothing off, or put it on. If I’m taking his shirt off or putting it on, he moves his arms around and helps. He recently figured out how to do the easy parts of a zipper (getting it started is hard). But he doesn’t really dress or undress himself. Not even his shoes! Well, his old shoes that had crappy velcro, he could get those off. But these ones, he totally can’t. At all. His failure is hilarious, because he tries to take them off while standing up. The same with his socks. He stands up, his socks on his feet, and tugs at the toes of the socks until he goes off balance and then gets all angry that his socks made him fall over. So getting his jacket off is kind of a big deal, and also I think something most other kids learn when they are like 18 months old. :/

The problem, however, was two fold. 1) It’s early May, and still pretty chilly out. To put this into perspective, when I hosted an alternate prom my Senior year, it was in early May. We all went camping for 3 days and 2 nights. Somebody got frost bite. It wasn’t BAD, but you know. Frost bite. 2) He knew he was supposed to leave his jacket on.

So he’d run to the far corner of the yard (which isn’t very far), shrug off his jacket, give me A LOOK, then throw the jacket onto the ground and step all over it in triumph. It was like a dance of victory. Then, pretty soon, he’d get cold and say “brr, brr” and bring the jacket back to me and I’d help him put it on, and he’d run back to the far corner and strip it off and do a jig on it. Lather, rinse, repeat for like ten times.

As I tried to herd Niko inside, he gave me the slip and did a runner for the back. He made it out into the alley. I was able to grab him up and carry him inside with no real problems. We both survived the excursion, and he ate a good lunch and fell asleep (he’s been sleeping HORRIBLY recently, in part due to Nesko having a grueling work schedule and Niko not seeing him for days at a stretch). If I don’t freak out at the last minute, I’ll try taking him to an actual park on Wednesday. Heck, it’s Nesko’s late day (as in, he goes in late and stays late). Maybe we’ll go to the park as a family. There is a park right near Target, so we can go there and then maybe I can get some pants that aren’t ten years old and made of disintegrating fabric.

I’LL KEEP YOU UPDATED.

Technorati Tags: anxiety, anxiety disorder, parenting, toddler

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