Worry Bath

#3

Today I sat in a puddle of worry. It’s that same one—the biggest one that I splash in at least once every day, but today I bathed in it. When I picked Atrain up from school his sweet teachers told me that they don’t think he’s been responding to their questions as quickly as usual this week. Sometimes they had to pounce on him to get his attention when he would normally respond immediately. He is a toddler and it’s difficult to get most toddlers to focus, but my kid has cochlear implants. This means that the moment he starts ignoring (or is he ignoring?), my worries start bubbling:

Is he just intently playing with his cars or is he unable to hear/understand me when asked if he wants an egg sandwich. Maybe I should ask if he wants chocolate. Does he just need a few days to get over this? Should I rush him to the audiologist? Should I take his temperature? He says he’s tired. Maybe he’s anemic. I need to buy some spinach. Can a brain be tired of listening? Did my two year old really just tell me that he’s teasing me? New words…that’s good. Very good. How young is too young to start using the “respond when spoken to” phrase? I wish my “CI kids ignoring” google search would turn up something useful. How many emails to our CI support team is too many?

I mostly hate baths. They’re supposed to be relaxing, but every time I try to soak up a nice, soothing bath my thoughts jump into everything else I’d rather be doing. So, why is it so hard to get my mind out of a tub full of worry? I wish I could enjoy bathing as much as others in my household. Tonight little Jdog followed in the footsteps of his father and was right at home in the warm water. If only I looked as cute as he does with all those extra rolls.