When my boy decides to do something, he goes BIG. He may sit on the sidelines for a while, but when N is ready he races ahead of the pack. Take breaking a limb for instance…
Monday afternoon, two or three minutes into a field trip to his future school, his teacher pushes him on the zipline. Makes it across the line, but he apparently decides to fall off instead of hang on at the end. Falls off directly onto his elbow in what must be a freakish position. Long story short, N and I stay up the ENTIRE evening with him in a homemade-ish sling and in agony. He whimpers and moans and cries the entire night, and I start whimpering and crying the next morning- it was like being up with a newborn baby without the feel good hormones or new mommy high. We go to the orthopedic surgeon Tuesday morning and sit across from ANOTHER N who is also bound up in a homemade-ish sling because of his fall from a zipline. Hmmm- these playground pieces are starting to look a little ominous to me…
The ortho (don’t I sound like I am getting the lingo?!?) tsk-tsks the x-rays, which is not good. She talks about pins, external pins, eight weeks, being ‘fairly’ certain it is not the growth plate. Mommy brain hears pinspinspins- external pins sticking out of my poor baby’s broken body, growth plate- will he have this same length of arm when he’s forty because of a flippin’ ZIP LINE? Then she says we will schedule the surgery (again, mommy brain goes bonkers with that word) for Friday. Screeching halt- It is Tuesday and that is SEVENTY-TWO hours from this appointment. At that point, I must’ve laughed a desperate laugh, because she asks about his pain management. Ummmm- not being managed, and noit looking hot for the seventy-two hours to go. We leave the office with a prescription for the kiddie version of valium or percocet, and manage to survive the seventy-two hours on a steady diet of it, motrin, rootbeer, movies, computer time, ice cream for dinner, and any other rule that can possibly be broken being broken.
Fast forward, and little stinker is resting comfortably with a cool camo cast up to his armpit, watching Scooby Doo, and coming down from his four-day fast from rules and real life. No more mint chocolate chip suppers, no more movies during the school-day, no more sleeping sideways in mommy’s bed with mommy squooshed on the edge- back to reality, babycakes! Except for the camo thing which prevents you from summer fun for a few weeks. Hmmm- to be blogged further…