Whew, boy I managed to go a whole month without blogging! That’s a first for me in 2 years & I’m trying not to feel too bad about it. I have another writing project in the works and it’s been hard to switch gears when I have some dedicated time to write.
But I’m here now.
Life has been a little crazy lately…I feel like it’s always a little crazy. I mean c’mon I have a toddler, it’s not going to be well manicured. It’s gonna get messy. Messy like last week when I got a call from my mom after an AA meeting, “Holden’s okay but…” I couldn’t let her finish, all of the blood seemed to rush out of my body. “What happened?!” I asked. “He fell and bit through his tongue.”
I rushed home and we all went to the ER, first trip for this mama. He was in pain but the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He had a pretty big open gash on the tip of his tongue. It was late, he kept falling asleep & then waking back up to the pain. We were seen pretty fast & the doctor said it could really go either way, if he was unable to get stitches he would probably be fine but he was going to stitch his tongue up anyways. They administered some drugs up his nose and swaddled him in some white blankets like a little toddler burrito. My son became like a happy drunk, watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and laughing at anything that was even reasonably funny. The doctor managed to get a couple of stitches in before H became wise to what was happening. He started jerking around, so the doctor gave up on that last perfect stitch.
As we drove home my son begged to go back to the hospital. The drugs were still working through his system, he now vacillated between happy and mean drunk. “I want to go back!” he shouted. He kept crying & wailing. It was around two in the morning now & us three adults were really only thinking about our beds & some sanity. He refused to get out of his car seat. He kept hitting me. I had to carry him out of the car and into the house against his will. He wasn’t supposed to walk on his own, because of the drugs he could fall. I finally got him to bed with my mom’s help. Nope, it wasn’t fun.
This is a somewhat extreme example of how hard being a parent can be (it could have been worse, yes I’ve heard the stories!), it’s not just roses and sunbeams all of the time. You will be inconvenienced. You will be karate chopped on the bridge of your nose by a very small (but strong) toddler.
You will be questioned incessantly. You will be stressed. You will be tired. You will want to give up.
Lately I’ve had to seek a shift. Morning hits me like a freight truck. “Get up Mommy!” I’ve had to switch my ways of thinking about him & how I react. Because it’s easy to react wrong & it’s harder to react right.
I don’t react right all of the time & no, none of us is perfect. But, I am my son’s only parent. He has his grandparents too (Thank you Jesus) but I’m going to be with him for most of his early life. This is a weighty thing to think about. I’m it for him. What I do will shape his mindset & beliefs. It’s scary to think of myself like that. It’s scary when my rational brain shuts off & I just feel annoyance or anger.
Because damn, three-almost-four-year-olds are quick. While I was typing an email on my phone earlier, he dumped out two card decks, mixed them together, and poured all his toys over them. Why? So he could jump up and down on this flotsam, of course! Pretty fun to clean up & yes he has to help too because that’s the lesson I want to teach him.
So I’ve begun to have to change my ideas about what he or I should be. I’ve had to take breaks. I’ve had to take more time to explain things to him. I’ve had to discipline which is not natural for me to do. I’ve had to nourish his spirit because I don’t want to crush it. I’ve had to answer non explainable questions. I’ve had to reach a little bit deeper.
I’m not feeling like I’m perfect at it, but I am feeling like I’m trying & doing my best. I’m asking my HP for help always. I know as other parents read this they will chuckle, their heads naturally nodding in agreement, remembering their own experiences & struggles.
Wishing all parents & kids out there a break. A deeper understanding & love for one another. This is what it’s all about.
One thought on “A BLOODY MESS”
Brings back memories. I remember the first time my daughter needed to go to the ER. I was so grateful to be sober. She got her stitches and pain meds. I reveled in my silent recovery. She was 2 at the time. Seems like not so long ago I was getting sober (w toddlers underfoot). The kids are 15 and 17 now and I still remember. Love your stories.