Parenting from the floor

My son is five (and a half). He is quite intelligent and very much an emotional feeler. After discussing the initial spasms with my doctor, she suggested that we not hide them from Jackson. She stated that he would be more fearful if we were secretive.

So, besides the first two or three episodes of my hand and arm being stuck in "the claw," we didn't try to pretend like nothing was wrong. I'd simply say, "Oh, Jackson...Mommy's hand is being silly again." Or, when Jackson asked what was wrong with Mama, Brent would tell him, "Mama's having a muscle spasm again."

I believe he is not scared because we have been honest with him. So, as the muscle spasms escalated to tip-toe walking and then the convulsions with grunting, he has not been fearful. He has laughed, calling me a "zombie dying." He has mimicked my sounds. He has lovingly rubbed my back and kissed my cheek and told me "It will be over soon, Mama."

And, he has also said "I'm tired of waiting for you, Mama" when I was having the beginning of a seizure in the car. He was being inpatient because Brent was tending to me and not letting him out of the car. However, I was aware of what he said and it was surely disrespectful. Tired, scared, impatient...are no excuses for disrespecting his Mama.

When Brent was trying to get me into the house, I muttered through gritted teeth a few choice words about Jackson's disrespect. Most of which, I'm pretty sure sounded like the teacher from Peanuts to Brent.

After my seizure passed and I was recovering, I called Jackson downstairs using his full name. "What did I do, Mama?" he asked, slowly coming down the stairs. "What's wrong, Mama?"

He sat about two feet away from me. I said "Come here, Jackson." He sat, hovering over my head. I told him to look me in the eye and he put his eyes right up against my face. Using my best I-Just-Seized-But-I'm-Still-Your-Mama voice, I told him to lay down next to me. He obeyed. I told him to look me in the eyes. So, there he was, face on the carpet about six inches away from me.

"Jackson, do you know I can hear everything when I'm having an episode?"

"Yes, Mama."

"I heard what you said in the car."

"What did I say?" he asked.

I said, "You said 'Mama, I'm sick of waiting for you.'"

"No," he said, "I said 'I'm tired of waiting for you, Mama.'"

A stern talking to came next, with my son's face on the carpet right next to mine. Although that was my first time parenting post-seizure, I'm sure it will not be the last time I get to show my Alpha-female to my little bundle of independence from the floor.