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By Summer

I don’t like jackets.

I loathe socks.

I hate covers that don’t lie perfectly flat on my bed.

I don’t like going potty.

I hate washing my hands.

I don’t really ever feel like taking a bath.

I hate pants that fit me. I prefer size 2 pants that my mom insists are way too short.

I don’t like having my hair brushed.

I am no fan of barrettes.

Pony tail holders and headbands are annoying too.

I don’t like to sleep through the whole night without waking my mommy once, or twice or maybe even three times. I don’t know why she gets so cranky about it.

I don’t see the point of dinner when dessert is obviously the only part worth eating.

Naps stink.

I do not like being told what to do.

I am Summer and I am three.

summer on birthday

This post is sponsored by the things I do like… carbs, TV, extra books at bedtime, princesses and cake.

mama bird notes:

I really have been quite overwhelmed and touched by the kindness I’ve received from everyone over the last week. Homemade chili and my favorite croissants have been left at my doorstep. Sweet, personal, caring emails have arrived in my inbox.

And everyone wants to know… “How is your mom?” And the answer: She sucks. I mean, it would suck for any of us if we suddenly found ourselves in her position. She feels like she is in a prison in her own enormously painful body.  I just pray that some day I can laugh with her about 2009… definitely the suckiest year ever.

On Friday, doctors performed surgery on a fractured vertebrae in my mother’s back. Unfortunately, they were not able to fit her for a halo for her broken neck due to her small frame and because the halo will pose a problem for her other injuries. Instead, she will wear a neck brace. If her neck does not heal properly with the brace, doctors will need to fuse the broken vertebrae in her neck which will mean some permanent loss of movement. But we aren’t there yet.

On Sunday, instead of attending Summer’s birthday party, she had yet another surgery to fix a complication from Friday’s surgery.  Hopefully, we are done with the surgeries for now.

So when people ask me, “How is your mom?,” I just say, “She is surviving, one day at a time.”

Because that is the only truth.

kelcey kintner