Let's start with the physical pain. Collin likes me to accompany him, well everywhere. If I could climb into his skin with him, I think he'd like that. He also likes to do things like a big kid long before he is one, like walking upright down the stairs, which he's been doing for months, eschewing the on-the-bottom method. Still, he makes me hold his hand most of the time. It takes FOREVER!
I admit that sometimes I just leave him whimpering at the landing and get on with my life and meet him at the bottom. Hey, he makes it on his own! He doesn't actually NEED me. He just WANTS me and that's a big difference four zillion times a day! He forgets about the pain of abandonment by the time he gets to the bottom anyway. Hey, a Mom's got a life to lead, a house to vacuum and eggs to scramble, right?
Anyway, yesterday, he suddenly wanted to go down on his bottom and apparently it was paramount that I too go down on my bottom. No exceptions would be tolerated. He yanked my hand down so hard that if I didn't succumb to the pressure, I'm pretty sure that my arm would actually come off. So, I flopped onto the stairs, not paying attention to where I'd fall, just assuming I'd sit on a step.
WRONG-O! I edged against the back of a stair, slamming my tailbone into the back edge of the step. Ouch doesn't give enough credence to the pain. I didn't say any cuss words because I currently live with a parrot, not a child; but I thought all the cuss words you can imagine...TWICE, then some more. I might've even thought some in Japanese, German and French. And, I only know French.
I figured it'd hurt for a minute then I'd get on with life. Nope, it hurt ALL flipping day. It hurt all night. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sit. I couldn't walk without it shooting pain through my legs to my ankles. I couldn't laugh without it feeling like I might actually poop myself with a piece of bone cracking off the tail end of my tooshie. Nice, huh?
So, I got ready to go to book club that night and Collin decided to twist the knife. Babysitter time! I HATE leaving my son. I hate leaving him with anyone....ANYONE. No one is good enough for my boy. Daddy is barely good enough for my boy. But apparently, Collin has decided that these two amazing girls that I found are better than me. At least that's what I've deduced from his reaction to them when they came in.
Here, I'd braced him all afternoon for the fact that Gracie and Laura were coming to play and they were putting him to bed (yadda-yadda-yadda), he appropriately nodded and said, no he didn't want me to go bye-bye; I melted a little and felt good. When they came in, he jumped up and down, said: "bye-bye, mama!" grabbed their hands (one in each hand) and dragged them upstairs. He then turned around and blew me a kiss. What!!!!!!
That's it. I'm replaceable...by two teenagers. I trudged away, hobbling with my sore ass and went to book club. I sat in a soft chair and had to explain to my friends why I was disgruntled and shifting my weight around on my bony butt. My son had tried to kill me.
Okay, now to the good part...today, I decided that he tried to make it up to me. He made my bed for me! Yes, I know it sounds to good to be true. But, I went to the bathroom in the middle of making my bed...I couldn't hold it anymore!...and came back to find Collin trying to finish the job. Could that be any cuter? He was putting the pillows on the bed and saying "There! There!" just like I do when I show him what I'm doing. Awwww.
By the way...can you break a tailbone? I swear, when I sit, even on my squishiest of pillows, I'm still seeing stars. Ouch!
1 comment:
i saw your email to the book club and wondered what happened! if you need anything, please let me know!
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