It is a beautiful, sunny Sunday morning.
I am currently sitting at my dining room table, early morning coffee in hand, feeling much more awake and alive by the minute as the caffeine slowly works its way into my system, waking up my sleepy body.
I am sitting here with one eye on the computer screen, and the other eye glued to my children, who are playing together in the living room beside me. When I say “playing together”, what I really mean is fighting over every single toy that is getting pulled out of the toy box, one by one.
It started with a tiny green ball that Cole initially reached his chubby little hand into the toy box and pulled out. Within seconds of the acquisition, Jake walked over, and, in typical Jake fashion, proceeded to rip the toy out of Cole’s hand and run away with it. This caused Cole to break into his typical fit of screaming, crawling at breakneck speed down the hall after his brother, letting out a blood-curdling scream all the way, neither of them stopping until they were both sitting right outside my bedroom door, where my poor husband was attempting his coveted once-a-week sleep in!
This morning I stopped it, for the sake of our marriage:) But most times, I let it play out a little longer. For one thing, it’s kind of amusing! And for another, I want my kids, within limits of course, to learn how to work things out, even from this early age. But the screaming, oh, the screaming…if anyone has tips on how to stop the screaming fits, they would be welcome and appreciated!
On a totally separate note, I have a broken wrist!
I actually broke it in January. I was playing in a soccer game and got tripped (the only redeeming factor is that the girl who tripped me got carded for it). I fell, and it hurt. It actually hurt so much that I ended up going for an x-ray the next day, to see if it was broken. An x-ray that came back looking fine. As the days dragged on and I continued to be in excruciating pain, I lamented at how much of a baby I was, feeling that much pain over a sprained wrist.
Three months later, on a regular check-up with my family doctor for Cole, I casually mentioned to her that my wrist still hurts everyday, and that I can’t bend it properly. She sent me for a follow-up x-ray, and I found out that yes, my wrist is in fact broken. For those of you who enjoy medical terminology, what I have is called a “scaphoid non-union”. And that because it wasn’t diagnosed right away and was never casted, it has not healed back together. And that because of this, I now have to have surgery on my wrist where they go in, set it properly, perhaps take a bone graft from my hip to help the process, stick a screw in it to hold it all together, and make me wear a cast for six months while it heals.
So, while I am preparing to go away to Guatemala for a couple of weeks, I am also preparing for surgery the week I get back. Needless to say, I am a little bummed…