What a weekend. In fact, it was such a weekend, I couldn't even write about it yesterday.
My beautiful, talented, clumsy Dr. Fairy Princess (also known as Princess Jelly Bean, or simply Emme) is already wearing an ankle support. She sprained her right ankle a while back, and keeps twisting it, so we're trying to keep her from having an eternally unstable ankle. Her knees are always scabby. If there's a glass of juice or milk near her - it's goin' down. A plate of food? Upside down, baby (this is probably why we have a dog).
Saturday afternoon we ventured to the movies to see "Horton Hears a Who." Loved it. Then we went over to Park Marina Drive to feed the ducks and geese (and pigeons and seagulls) our leftover popcorn. I look, and Emme is climbing the chain link fence! Now, it's probably not even four feet high, but SHE HAS A SPRAINED ANKLE ALREADY. I immediately order the munchkin down. Unfortunately, her forearm chose to get too close to the raw end of the fence at the top (I'm sure there's a technical term for this, but I really don't care). As she begins her climb down, the end of this pointed, deadly fence goes right into the skin. Of course, her instinct is to keep climbing down, at the exact rate of speed her voice is going up. As she climbs down, the fence is going deeper into her arm. That's right, HER ARM! I immediately try to pull her back up to unhook her arm, but she doesn't realize what I'm trying to do and is fighting me like a demon. I finally get her unhooked (the stupid thing probably went in to her arm a half inch).
I call their dad - he lives only a couple minutes from Park Marina....he's not home. Knowing I have only a couple bandaids left at home, I go to a local pharmacy. The pharmacist took one look at her arm and said that we needed to get into a professional right away.
Now, every urgent care in town is closed this late on a Saturday (well, except for one - and I wouldn't take my dog there). So, of course I call my boss (perks - gotta love 'em). He meets us at Crossroads and cleans up her wound. Emme made me leave the treatment room. Later, I ask her why...."because there was lots of blood, Mommy, and I didn't want you to cry."
Sunday we relaxed. I played Martha Stewart and made pancakes, pot roast and pie (coincidentally, Emme's class is studying P this week). We went to the Stirring at 5. As I'm sitting there, listening to Nate, I open my Bible. As I said in the title, this isn't your mother's Bible. I've got notes written everywhere. Anyway, on the title page for the New Testament, I find a young child's writing.
"I live you so mush!"
I don't know when one of them got hold of my Bible and wrote this, but it just made my day.
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2 comments:
Don't moments like this take your breath away? The love a child gives is so raw and so real! I love it. They are so sincere with every ounce of love they give. That's what makes it so much better to receive love from a little one, who knows no limits! Your children are priceless Annie. I love them both so much!
I've talked to other guys who, like me, delayed growing up, getting married and becoming dads. One common theme I've noticed with fellow forty or fifty-something first time dads is the near-horror of the idea that we could have easily missed the wash of love that comes with parenthood. Maybe if we all had a child who "loved us so mush," there'd be more hope for world peace.
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