So remember when you were a kid, and you decided you were really excited about going somewhere, and you were so excited about going there that walking was way too slow and you decided to run? And then your mom start yelling at you "Stop running! Walk!"
Guess what? She had a freaking good reason for bitching you out. When your mom tells you to "Walk!", just do it. No questions asked, just do it. If you don't, you may end up looking like a pirate.
When Dax was a year and a half, he was running in the library and I was chasing him, yelling the above-mentioned type of warning, and he ran smack into a magazine rack. That little incident provided us with the first of several emergency room trips, and provided Dax with 6 stitches, and a distinguished scar above his eyebrow.
When it first happened, and his tiny little baby face was bleeding and bleeding with a open gaping wound staring at me, I remember feeling very guilty that his appearance would be changed forever because I was a bad mother who let her child run wild in public. I've always thought that the scar kind of gives him a little bit of an interesting, rugged look, like a pirate. When he gets older, and someone asks about his scar, he can claim he was in a knifefight in the south Pacific, or scraped himself while saving a baby grizzly bear trapped on a cliff (yes, I enjoyed Grizzly Adams, thanks for asking) Pretty much any story will be more glamorous than the story "I ran into a magazine rack".
A boy can pull off a pirate look, I think.
Today, I have added another pirate to my gang. Heath was running in the store. He ran and ran and tripped over a raised piece of floor and fell SMACK! on his face. Of course, because I'm a kind of irritable mother I started hollering at him "And that's why you listen when I tell you to stop running!"
Then I heard a weird crunching sound as he opened his mouth. He totally busted one of his front teeth. I'm not usually squeamish, but the combination of the crunching, and the blood, and the fat lip and the jagged broken tooth almost did me in. So gross. But I pulled it together and actually stopped lecturing him and consoled him.
And even better than maternal consolation, I immediately bought him some popsicles. Sometimes TV watching comes in handy. Last night I watched "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" and one of the eight was running and fell on her face and bit through her lip. Jon took her to the doctor and the doctor prescribed popsicles. So I took this knowledge and bought popsicles.
In the car, Heath was pretty sad but was trying to hold it in (he's very stoic) I was going between lecturing him about running, and telling him he'd feel better, poor baby. He was very, very quiet and I asked him if he was okay. He responded "I broke all my teeth out." I assured him he had lots of beautiful teeth still and he cheered up.
I went to my mom's to get her advice, but she was at work. So I used her phone to call our doctor to see what he thought about the tooth issue (It was only a baby tooth, but still...Painkillers? Pulling? I don't know) He said to call a dentist. But instead I called my aunt Monica. She is not a dentist, but she had five kids and I thought maybe one of her kids had a tooth knocked out at some point (odds are good, with five kids)
One of her five did get his tooth knocked out. But it was a permanent tooth, so kind of different. But Monica's expert advice was that she didn't think that Heath needed to see a dentist because it would just be a big hassle. That's exactly the type of advice I like to hear. I agree. (Thanks Monica.) Also, Monica told Heath that Chris had a broken tooth and that made him feel better.
We headed home (after a frozen smoothie in the drivethru) At home, Heath was checking out his tooth in the mirror. I told him I liked his tooth, and that he kind of looked like he had a pirate tooth.
He replied "Arrrgh!"
(He totally did. He cracks me up)
And that's that. Another child with a pirate-esque kind of look going on. Or, another physical reminder of my negligence/their inability to listen to me.
On an unrelated note, today also happens to be the first day Heath and Quinn are sleeping in their "big-boy" racecar beds. (Yes, they are three years old. Yes, I have had them in cribs all this time.) I was pretty freaked out that I'd be chasing them in and out of their bedrooms all night with their newfound, uncaged freedom. But they actually stayed in their rooms. And it was so cute when I went in to peek at them---they're both snuggled up sleeping in the same little bed. Wombmates, and roommates. So freaking cute!
Guess what? She had a freaking good reason for bitching you out. When your mom tells you to "Walk!", just do it. No questions asked, just do it. If you don't, you may end up looking like a pirate.
When Dax was a year and a half, he was running in the library and I was chasing him, yelling the above-mentioned type of warning, and he ran smack into a magazine rack. That little incident provided us with the first of several emergency room trips, and provided Dax with 6 stitches, and a distinguished scar above his eyebrow.
When it first happened, and his tiny little baby face was bleeding and bleeding with a open gaping wound staring at me, I remember feeling very guilty that his appearance would be changed forever because I was a bad mother who let her child run wild in public. I've always thought that the scar kind of gives him a little bit of an interesting, rugged look, like a pirate. When he gets older, and someone asks about his scar, he can claim he was in a knifefight in the south Pacific, or scraped himself while saving a baby grizzly bear trapped on a cliff (yes, I enjoyed Grizzly Adams, thanks for asking) Pretty much any story will be more glamorous than the story "I ran into a magazine rack".
A boy can pull off a pirate look, I think.
Today, I have added another pirate to my gang. Heath was running in the store. He ran and ran and tripped over a raised piece of floor and fell SMACK! on his face. Of course, because I'm a kind of irritable mother I started hollering at him "And that's why you listen when I tell you to stop running!"
Then I heard a weird crunching sound as he opened his mouth. He totally busted one of his front teeth. I'm not usually squeamish, but the combination of the crunching, and the blood, and the fat lip and the jagged broken tooth almost did me in. So gross. But I pulled it together and actually stopped lecturing him and consoled him.
And even better than maternal consolation, I immediately bought him some popsicles. Sometimes TV watching comes in handy. Last night I watched "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" and one of the eight was running and fell on her face and bit through her lip. Jon took her to the doctor and the doctor prescribed popsicles. So I took this knowledge and bought popsicles.
In the car, Heath was pretty sad but was trying to hold it in (he's very stoic) I was going between lecturing him about running, and telling him he'd feel better, poor baby. He was very, very quiet and I asked him if he was okay. He responded "I broke all my teeth out." I assured him he had lots of beautiful teeth still and he cheered up.
I went to my mom's to get her advice, but she was at work. So I used her phone to call our doctor to see what he thought about the tooth issue (It was only a baby tooth, but still...Painkillers? Pulling? I don't know) He said to call a dentist. But instead I called my aunt Monica. She is not a dentist, but she had five kids and I thought maybe one of her kids had a tooth knocked out at some point (odds are good, with five kids)
One of her five did get his tooth knocked out. But it was a permanent tooth, so kind of different. But Monica's expert advice was that she didn't think that Heath needed to see a dentist because it would just be a big hassle. That's exactly the type of advice I like to hear. I agree. (Thanks Monica.) Also, Monica told Heath that Chris had a broken tooth and that made him feel better.
We headed home (after a frozen smoothie in the drivethru) At home, Heath was checking out his tooth in the mirror. I told him I liked his tooth, and that he kind of looked like he had a pirate tooth.
He replied "Arrrgh!"
(He totally did. He cracks me up)
And that's that. Another child with a pirate-esque kind of look going on. Or, another physical reminder of my negligence/their inability to listen to me.
On an unrelated note, today also happens to be the first day Heath and Quinn are sleeping in their "big-boy" racecar beds. (Yes, they are three years old. Yes, I have had them in cribs all this time.) I was pretty freaked out that I'd be chasing them in and out of their bedrooms all night with their newfound, uncaged freedom. But they actually stayed in their rooms. And it was so cute when I went in to peek at them---they're both snuggled up sleeping in the same little bed. Wombmates, and roommates. So freaking cute!
(This is where I planned to put a cute picture of two little sleeping drivers crammed into one little racecar, while the other racecar bed is across the room, looking very neglected, but I can't figure out how to post pictures here. So just imagine it. It's really cute.)
Wait, never mind that last part. I figured it out.
Cute, eh?
OMG Emilene, that is ADORABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeletethat is super cute Emilene. the boys in the bed, not the broken tooth. that's more good story, like my friend Sue, who tells people not that she cut her finger with an exacto knife cutting trim for a dress, but rather that she was in a barfight (on tatooine, because she's Sue).
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