Million Dollar Baby

Ever since we decided to start looking at things differently, I have been, well, happy.  At one point I never thought that I would feel like my usually happy carefree self.  It's amazing how God can truly alter your perspective of things.  One of the things I have been making a conscious effort of is to look at this as a rehabilitation (or maybe habilitation if he has never done it before?) instead of treatment.  The damage is done.  We now need to work on getting him to the best place he can be.  With that I have started googling things like baby designer eyeglasses instead of polymicrogyria prognosis.

One of the things that people keep telling us to do is to make sure we take time for ourselves.  With that in mind, I scheduled a very special massage for Thursday.  At 4pm, I will be driving out to the country to go to a very exclusive spa.  There is a lake and apparently horses and it is supposed to be very serene.  I will be in a dark room with aromatherapy and candles.  It will be amazing and relaxing.  Something every mom needs... Too bad its not for me. This massage is for Gommy.  That is right, I am paying for my 7-month old to have an $80/hour massage.  This is my new reality, and I can't help but laugh.  He has a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, a chiropractor, and now a massage therapist.  All of which he sees weekly or bi-weekly.  This doesn't even include any of his actual doctors of which he has a pediatrician, a neurologist, and soon a developmental pediatrician, eye doctor and ear doctor.  He is one spoiled little man.

We are also working on getting him an appointment with the world polymicrogyria expert, Dr. William Dobyn in Seattle.  Oh Gommy, the things we would do for you.

With all of these treatments we are trying to help him form new brain connections. Sometimes I worry that with all these swanky treatments with massage therapists, chiropractors and day trips to Seattle he is going to start to make new connections that lead him to believe he is incredibly wealthy.  I suppose that is just something I will have to deal with as it comes.  Don't worry baby, mommy would rob banks for you.  Come to think of it, I don't know that having PMG is all that different than growing up as Blue Ivy.  There are probably less diamond encrusted barbie dolls though.

One of the things that hasn't changed is that Poppa and I are no more of adults than when we started this.  We don't have a secret stock of toothbrushes and paper towels just waiting for when we need them.  We still run to Walgreens at least twice a week to get something that we ran out of or forgot at the store.  Refusing to grow up does have its perks though.  We decided that tomorrow we are celebrating Happy Saturday.  We have cupcakes and candles and presents for the boys.  We will be ordering pizza and eating it in Mommy and Daddy's bed while watching movies.  We are even going to let the boys stay up past bed time and fall asleep in our bed.  None of this is responsible and I will probably be annoyed on Sunday night when I fall asleep amongst pizza crumbs.  But that is one of the great things about not being a real adult.  I can do what I want and forget about consequences.  Sometimes it is best to live in the moment.  I love this life, and I love my men.  It's cool if you're jealous, I would be.