My dad has a bad hip that locks up from too many years of standing sideways riding on boards; my mom was issued a bad set of bulbs that can't tune into anything far away without the help of curved glass; my papa can't hear everything I say out of one ear even though I'm as loud as my dad; my brother Johnny has a straight smile with crooked teeth and my brother Tyler has a crooked smile with straight teeth. We've all got something...
Me? I was dealt a bad set of drums. It seems like every week one of these darn things is acting up and getting infected. Truth is, my dad spent half his childhood waking up in the middle of the night with an ear-ache, so I guess I can lay this on him. I have the routine down pretty good now: I tug at it for a bit. Then I do some tossing and turning for a night or two. Then, around day three, I don't tell anyone I am in pain, but I do begin to demand the irrational at the top of my voluble register. I just want what I want at this point and I am not afraid to ask for it.
Usually what I want is the same thing I always want when balance is not present in the universe: Mommy. Ah, the cure all, go to in a pinch, never let you down, bottle of the good stuff - mommy.
Oh, I just can't stand to hear that word on a sore ear.
Truth is, I won't stand for it. You go three days with your ear drum swelling to the point of near bursting and then you ask for a chocolate chip cookie only to hear that it is just before dinner. I can't tell time, I don't know it is before dinner. I just want a cookie. If this happened to you, you might be inclined to throw a crayon as well.
By the time my parents catch on to the ear thing, it is usually around midnight. I wait until everyone finally settles in, right when that REM state starts to flicker and everyone is taking in long deep breaths of well deserved sleep, then: BLAMO!
I typically start with the scream. Then I start the "don't touch me" routine, followed by the "please hold me," then some, "wait, don't touch me, now hold me," followed by the "why aren't you listening to me" arm & leg-full-flail-tantrum. When it is clear that I have every one's attention, I start the run in place while screaming, followed by the you chase me around the house while I shout "Walk away," which leads to my parents walking away, and then I chase them. During this tug of war, I'll sometimes throw in a minor injury when I run so quickly from or to my parents that I smash into a coffee table in the dark, which does make my ear feel better for a moment while throbbing pain shoots through whichever body part crushed against the offending furniture. At this point I throw in a scream and begin the routine again from run in place.
Eventually, after some Tylenol and some long calm down conversations, my mommy gets me to sleep. The next day, one of my parents explains to their boss why they can't be at work again, they call my school and let them know to make one less art project supply kit, and we head off to see Dr. Sarah.
I'm sure this nice lady has a last name, and after as many years as she spent becoming a doctor, you would think she deserves her last name to be attempted, but she chose pediatrics and a husband with 13 consonants in his last name so she is stuck with Dr. Sarah. She is a very nice lady, it is the same routine every time, she pokes a little, and lets me play with her heart listener, and then she pokes a pointy flashlight in my ear and prescribes the meds.
Look, it could be worse. A lot worse. The truth is we have all got something. I don't know many adults who still have quirky drums: it seems to be something you grow out of, so truth be known, I'll take what I got over what some people got, because the truth is - we've all got something.
