To my son Tommy,
We made it through the weekend. This was your mom's birthday weekend though it wasn't much of a celebration. The entire weekend was spent trying to cope with the bone pain side effect caused by the Remicade infusion. Your mom didn't feel much like celebrating and our job was to make her life as easy as possible.
As I wrote to you previously, I had a plan which included a bunch of rest scheduled for your mom. As they say, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. I was thwarted by Brazier night and this new summer sleep in schedule that you have adopted.
After the infusion, we all went to your Uncle Chris's house to enjoy his new pool and to eat pizza and generally enjoy some family. Your mom even came despite her infusion. But after an hour or so of trying her best to fight through, I had to bring her home. You and I stayed to about 10 PM and you were in bed around 10:30.
The next morning was our reading class. I tried waking you. I tried my hardest. I tried being gentle. It seemed the only way to get you out of bed would be pure brute force. I made the executive decision to say the hell with it. Even if you did get up, a crying reluctant pissed off five year old would get nothing from the reading class. You slept till about 11.
I had to adjust my plan for your mom's birthday. Originally I figured we would be out of the house till 1pm and bring her home lunch. Instead I ran out while you were sleeping and got her some breakfast from Dunkin Donuts. With a late breakfast, this would mean lunch would have to be moved till later.
I did get you and I out of the house. We hit a couple stores and then went to Clark Elioak farms to pass the hours. You ran around and played on slides and oohed and aahed over the animals which you still weren't too keen on touching or feeding, but amazed none the less. I, got stung by a bee, which still hurts, but manned up and stuck it out.
We buckled into the car and started to drive. Our destination was a sushi place to bring carry out home for your mom's lunch. Well all of a sudden I start coughing and coughing and coughing. My mind started racing. Was this a late onset anaphylaxic reaction? I am not known to be allergic to bees but my dad is. Could I have develop this allergy or could they have missed it all these years? I started to pray and was debating on pulling over and calling an ambulance or driving to the hospital on my own. I decided to call your mom. She assured me that if this was anaphylaxis from a bee sting, and that amount of time had passed, I'd be dead already. Funny how, "Don't worry, you would have already been dead if that was it." is reassuring, but it was. She said I better skip the sushi and just come home and take a Benadryl just in case.
So my plan to deliver lunch and then head out to Roro's house had been thwarted. I got home and took my medicine and apologized for interrupting your mom's rest. I decided to wait around a bit as I don't particularly like driving on Benadryl. We gave your mom her gifts and her cards and just hung out around the house playing Minecraft.
During the wait, we found out your Great Uncle Paddy was coming in from New Mexico. Your mom, even feeling as bad as she did, was determined to go see him. It was her birthday, so I wasn't going to object, but I worried that she could use the rest more. We visited and had dinner and called it an early night and got a snowball on the way home.
I was feeling pretty bummed that I didn't make your mom's birthday as special as I wanted to. So when she asked for crabs the next night for dinner, which she had been craving all week, I jumped at the opportunity to go. She was actually ready to talk herself out of it, thinking it was too much of a bother, so I had to talk her back into it. I loaded you into the car. About half way up to Captain Dan's, as she hasn't found a closer crab place that she trusts or likes, you said to me, "Daddy, is this another adventure?" to which I replied, "Anytime you and Daddy go out has the potential to be an adventure." You thanked me for the adventure of the farm the other day and told me how much you love our adventures. You went on to ask if all hawks were bad like the one in Stuart Little. I love your little tangents. As we got home with the crabs, you said, "Operation Mommy Birthday Crabs, successful! Good job Daddy! You and I make a good team!"
Sincerely with love from your dad,