The Tickly Hand

Every few weeks in the middle of the night, my son comes clambering down the stairs in a great hurry.   He jumps up on the bed and goes straight to where I sleep.   He calls out, “MOM!” in a loud whisper and thrusts his hand at me.   By now I’m marginally awake, but I know what’s happened—his hand is asleep.  And when his hand falls asleep, it really falls asleep.   He wakes up and makes it all the way downstairs to me and then it takes me several minutes to get him sorted enough to go back upstairs.

I suppose I unknowingly started a routine with him the first time it ever happened.   He would tell me his hand was, “tickly”.  After figuring out he had pins and needles from reduced blood flow and telling him his hand was “asleep” I started working on his hand.  I wiggled his fingers around, did some massaging, shook his hand and lower arm to try and get circulation going.   When this first started several years ago I did all sorts of things, not really paying attention to what, because I had been asleep and I wasn’t that awake through the process.

These days when my son’s hand is sufficiently awake and past the burning, painful post-asleep stage, my son leaves of his own accord and goes back upstairs.   It’s what happens in the interim of arrival and departure that’s interesting.

First off, my son yells at me.   Not real yelling, whisper yelling.   He can be particularly forcefully loud and quiet at the same time.   He’s desperately trying to get me to do what he envisions in his mind as the best and most appropriate move for me to work on his hand at that specific moment.   What he doesn’t realize is I’m just randomly trying things because I don’t know where the discomfort is.

He redirects me again and again as the pain moves from one area to another in his hand and fingers.   He is fairly strict with what I’m suppose to do and what I shouldn’t be doing.   He tells me that I’m just not doing it right and tries to show me where exactly, only he’s frantic at the time because his hand hurts.  

He’s gotten better at telling me where exactly and what “move” he wants me to do to help. And I’ve gotten better and figuring out what he actually wants.   Someday when he’s older maybe I’ll let him know I just made it all up.

The Big Boy Update:  My husband had made some tacos for Uncle Jonathan, Margaret, the children and me tonight.   He sent my daughter upstairs to let the rest of us know dinner was ready.   My son jumped up and headed for the stairs, calling back over his shoulder, “hey guys. let’s go down and meet dinner.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My children tried my bubble tea a few days ago and suddenly decided they wanted to try one themselves.   I told them they were like smoothies and they could choose from flavors like mango or strawberry.   My son got mango but insisted he didn’t want the boba balls in his.   My daughter was adventurous and got them in hers.   She had fun sucking up the tapioca balls in her straw and chewing them.

Six Miles:  That’s right, I ran.    I am as shocked as you are.