For some reason this past week has been… ummmm… more crazy than usual. It’s just that end-of-term nuttiness along with some other life events—some foreseen, some not—making it kind of a wild time. I’m looking forward to Christmas! Except mostly I am looking forward to the kids being off school and everyone having some down time. We totally know how to party ’round here (if by “party” you mean “watch Netflix,” and I do).
Of the 3,000 things which have already happened this week (HOW IS IT ONLY WEDNESDAY??), I will of course choose to tell you about the one that makes me look like the biggest, most inept tool. My gift to you! No charge! I’m sure we’ll look back and laugh someday.
So here you go: over on Alpha Mom, allow me to make you feel better about that time you didn’t think your kid was really all that hurt. I’ve come to learn that everyone has a good story in this vein, many more cringe-y than the one I’m going to tell you, but misery does love company.
My sister mashed her pinky finger between the gym floor and a football when she was around 10. Four weeks later, our piano teacher asks why she still can’t use it. The pediatrician who told us she didn’t need xrays was never seen again, and she ended up in a cast up to her elbow. She was most displeased.
Oy, yeah, been there. Older daughter, not the one we usually discuss, also was a shrieker and a not-self-soother who did not want to go to sleep as an infant. One horrible night, we decided to let her cry it out. FIVE HOURS LATER, we gave up. When we finally picked her up, she was dazed and distant and sort of “not there.” We never did that again.