I have been feeling down and out for the past couple weeks.
Now, I am not looking for sympathy or nervous hugs from near-strangers. I just need to write about it. So, if you are looking for an amusing story or some of my kids’ wild antics, scroll on past this one.
Debbie Downer. Straight up.
The twins are in first grade now and the school makes a big fuss about being anti-bullying. Well, I am here to tell you that you can hold 500 assemblies, concerts, and rallies on the virtues of NOT acting like a tool to your classmates and there will still be bullying. Is it bad parenting or inattentive teachers? Probably neither. Some kids are just b-holes.
One of my boys has had the recent distinction of being a target of a bully. I am not going to be overly specific, but one particular incident involved my son crapping his pants because the bully wouldn’t let him go in to the school during recess to use the bathroom. I know. In first grade this is happening.
It’s ridiculous and it makes my blood boil. BUT, I can handle this situation. We can talk to the principal (we have) and mitigate the situation. (So far, so good.) We can fix this and hopefully teach the bully to stop acting like a bag of feminine hygiene products.
But, that’s not the only self-esteem destroying situation that we are dealing with. And the other one is my fault. And I am completely devastated by it.
The worst thing we have had to go through is tongue reduction surgery. I had mine done as an adult, but the twins were operated on in a Big 10 School Hospital when they were 2 years old. (Because of my current feelings on the job they did, I will not name names as to embarrass anyone but, it’s in a state that Rhymes with “fishigan”. Also, GO BUCKEYES. Ya dig?) And the doctor did not do a very good job, in my not-humble-at-all opinion. Here’s what they look like today, 4 years post-surgery:
One of my sons recently approached me and told me he felt bad because kids picked on him because of his tongue. (Oh, I have been there, honey.) It enraged me to the point that I had to just go to my room for a while and sit.
After their surgery, I tried to talk to their surgeon about how awful the tongues looked and how I was sure they were still too big. He told me I was over-reacting and, like a non-confrontational person who really didn’t know better, I accepted his answer and went along with my life. He refused to do another surgery. My instincts told me this was a crap answer, but still, I went along with it.
But, the kids are getting teased now and that triggered me. It made me thing about all the other things that were bothering me about their tongues. They are getting cavities in their teeth and having crowding issues because of it. They still have terrible lisps. The tongues are too big to stay in their mouths. It’s not right. I should have trusted my gut.
So, here we are in a pickle. I have contacted a different surgeon who specializes in Beckwith Wiedemann Syndrome and he will fix them.
1000 miles from here. If insurance will cover it.
So, now I fret and worry. I feel like I am standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering back and forth. It’s a very expensive and costly to get to type cliff. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Will a gust of wind throw me over the edge? Should I just climb down slowly and slink away in shame? Can I find a parachute? Where is my cell phone? This is an amazing and crazy view. I should put this on Instagram.
If my boys ever read this, I have a message for them: Believe me I will do anything to “fix” this for the both of you. I don’t think you are broken or ugly. I never did. But, I understand how mean kids are. I understand being embarrassed that your tongue hangs out when you concentrate. I understand how frustrating it is to be treated like you are stupid because speech therapy does little to train that unruly hunk of steak in your mouth. I just wanted to be “normal”, too. I wanted to give you something I didn’t know was possible when I was little. I will move mountains to give you this, still. I am so, so sorry the first doctor butchered you the way he did. Forgive me.