Sometimes you wonder what you can do

This past week was a very fun, yet, trying one as a parent.

My son, Carter, turned two on Saturday. Sometimes it is still a bit surreal to know I have a son. My daughter is 15 and I was so used to raising her and remember things she went through, I figured I’d be a little prepared for a second child.

Boy, I was wrong. He is a handful. He is a walking, running, jabbering version of a tornado in a human. He likes to wrestle, he loves to head butt and tell you no. He loves to throw a ball, no matter if it is baseball, soccer, basketball or football. One of his favorite words is ball.

It just seemed like yesterday he was born and now we venture into the terrible two stage — please send prayers and thoughts. He happened to be born the week after I had my tonsils out so I will admit the first few weeks of his life were a little hazy and I was taking doses of liquid codeine to handle the pain.

On a side note, if a doctor ever suggests getting your tonsils out, just say no and deal with strep throat. It was worse than any broken bone I have ever incurred in my life, possibly all put together.

The day prior to Carter turning two, we had a visit with a specialist at Children’s Mercy off of Barry Road.

My son has had a handful of ear infections since he was born and finally, he had tubes put in a few months ago to help curb those issues. For the most part it has worked.

He has had issues getting words out and we were worried he may be a little bit behind. The doctors assured us at the time of the surgery he was only a little behind schedule and the tubes should help him.

Well, they haven’t helped as much as we wanted so we went to the doctor.

I will admit is has been frustrating trying to understand what he wants. The words are coming out but neither his mom nor I can always understand it.

Luckily, in recent weeks he has gotten to the point where he just grabs your finger or hand and drags you where he wants, to show you what he wants. The other day it was a trip to the fridge and pointing to the milk.

Not being able to get what you want to say out is terrible and frustrating. I’ve been in those shoes. I had speech issues from the time I was little and I entered speech therapy at the age of 4.

My speech patterns were pretty terrible when I was younger. My parents tell stories of when I would introduce myself I would use my full name. The only problem was I would say Wesson instead of Weston and people, I assume, would stare at my parents wondering if they chose it after the gun, the cooking oil or the town.

It was a slow and arduous process that ended with me being a junior in high school before being cleared to stop going to the weekly visits with the pathologist.

I was worried he may be headed down the same path and we learned on Friday that he is. They say he is at a 14-month-old’s speech level. With the fact he is that far behind is a little tough to grasp as a parent.

It really made me wonder what I can do to make him better. I wonder if my genetics caused it. I wonder if I should read to him more and do less of the playing around with sports like we do.

I know he is smart. It is just frustrating to know he isn’t on the same level as kids his age. We were told he should know about 50 words by now. We aren’t close to that, but I know we will get there at some point. It is just different comparing what I go through with him to what I went through with Riley. Once she started talking, she never knew how to turn it off. Like, ever.

I know we may be a while from that point, but I’m glad he will get some help once they can work us into the schedule. I’m excited to see the progress.