Being the parent of a disabled child is hardly a bed of roses, but we like it here at the Organic household. There are some days that mightily try my patience and vocabulary, but generally it's a great life.
My oldest son (as most of you will recall) uses a wheelchair due to a childhood vaccine reaction - but that's a story for another day. While he has an incredibly sweet disposition, he absolutely hates getting haircuts. However, the good Lord blessed him with amazing hair, hair that grows faster than any Chia Pet you've ever seen and necessitates cutting it every three to four weeks. Which he hates. Lately I have been doing the haircutting myself - I figured that doing it at home might make him feel more at ease. Um, nope.
But the hair must be cut and I can handle his displeasure with me, so I do it. I'm getting better and as long as he holds relatively still (if you can count all the bobbing and weaving as still), I manage to do a decent job of it. Things were going well until I touched the hair on the top of his head, and then he started throwing up. Throwing up is a whole different experience for him since he has had a Nissen surgery and a g-tube in his stomach. The surgery has made it so he cannot throw up out of his mouth (thank heavens), but he does still have all the dry heaves and the only way to relieve the pressure is to put an extension tube and large syringe into the button on his stomach.
Mission accomplished. But it sounded so bad, that my other son panicked and ran from the room. I tried to explain to him that being anxious and worried (while normal) does not help in a situation like this and the appropriate response is, "How can I help mom?" because that will ultimately help his brother. Just as he was asking me how he could help, haircut boy had a particularly forceful heave that propelled itself out of the tube and into my hair.
Lovely. Good thing I hadn't showered yet. I tucked the end of the tube into a 32 ounce cup and son #2 held the cup for me while I completed the haircut.
I believe the entire reason my eldest son dislikes the haircut process is the very last part, the part where I trim up his hairline and sideburns with the clippers. So I try to do as much as I can without turning them on, but there comes a point when they must be used. Even though my son has a hearing impairment, I talk to him and tell him everything I'm doing. This time, he must have heard me, because when I mentioned that now I was going to shave his neck, he freaked the frak out (as yarn harlot would say). Arms went flying, and in so doing, became entangled in the tube (the one attached to his stomach), consequently jerking the cup o' puke out of son #2's hand and emptying the contents all over. the. floor. And me.
And in the piles of hair all over the floor. Nice! Thanks heavens I hadn't waxed it yet. And that is when my vocabulary completely jumped the tracks of normal, intelligent speech. In everyone's defense, it was a situation that probably couldn't have been avoided and I should have just rolled with it - like I had just told my son to do. We did the only thing we could do, apologize, clean it up, get everyone a shower, and keep on going.
Thank heavens I will have numerous opportunities for future practice, like every four weeks for the rest of his life.
