Don't Do That!

written by liz on Tuesday, September 02 2008

It's Tuesday after Labor Day weekend. No major meltdowns today. Sam started back to school today. I went back to yoga and it was like medicine, soothing, calming, joy- inducing medicine. We didn't hang out on the sweltering blacktop after Alex got out of school-we didn't even linger for long. Yay! I lured them home with the bribe possibility of strawberry ice cream. Both had some quiet downtime after their ice cream. The house was quiet. They both came out of their rooms and played. During playtime, there were only a few minor scuffles over building standards and the latest flying Lego car contraption. I made scrambled eggs, tortillas, beans and rice for dinner. They even ate the few carrots I put on the plate for color and vitamins. Noone was complaining.  We decided to go to the back yard for a little letting off of steam before bedtime.

Do you sense something COMING!?!?!?!?

I swear I did. I just felt it- sensed it. But, I looked away, got engrossed in watering my tomatoes. My tomatoes! So amazing, The first time ever! There must me dozens of them. I am thinking I should photograph them.

Then, Alex is on the top of the play structure. The swing has come unhinged from the metal loop that holds it up top and he is trying to fix it. I help him clip it back in and beg him to come down. Daddy is out of town, I plead. Please come down, I beg.  I don't want anything to happen, especially because daddy is not here. Alex argues. Mommy, I've done this a thousand times. I sigh and go silent as I don't want to battle with him.

Then he gets down and starts trying to pull the swing as far up the side ladder as he can. I guess swinging it off the ladder and letting it fly from 3 feet in the air must give some kind of thrill. Does he NOTICE his little brother standing in the line of fire? I swear he is oblivious to that. Stop, I nag. If that hits Sam its going to hurt. Like a pecking hen: peck, peck, peck.

I busy myself with going to get my new bag of soil out of the car, thinking if I disappear maybe it will all stop. I get the bag of dirt and put it on the table and start to fill my new pot. The pot is going to hang from the coolest plant holder I think I've ever seen (which I also bought today from Sloat Garden Center). Now, I look over and see Alex jumping from the ladder of the play structure and finally am so frustrated I strain my voice with confusion, bewilderment and dismay:

AL     EX why are you doing that? (I imagine my neighbors in their back yard listening to me and thinking, does she let that kid do ANYTHING? )

Alex stops jumping from so high up and takes a jump from the second stair from the ground. I figure that has to be safe. I turn my back to the potting soil.

It isn't much time before a muted thump I then hear some crying followed by Alex saying, Mommy, Sam got hurt.

I say, How?

Alex says: he was jumping from the play structure.

Where in the %$&* did he ever get that *()&^%$ idea I think.

Sam is crying. I hear Alex go over to see if he is OK. I don't check immediately. If I don't look maybe it will all go away. But his cry is just a little different than usual. First breathless, confused and when I get there it gets louder. I see him standing kinda limp, with some tanbark soot on his forehead. I wipe his hot sweaty wet face trying to erase the tears and tanbark stain. It huuuuuuuurts, ma. My first thought is that this kid has a broken wrist. I look at it to see if I can see anything. It looks a tiny bit swollen. I snap at Alex, WHY?!? did you have to keep doing that!? Alex keeps trying to defend himself saying he was only jumping from the second stair. I get the feeling - the one I am getting used to, that I want to jump off something myself. Or hit myself with a crowbar. Or get in the car and drive away and not come back, or scream the loudest blood curdling scream I possibly could ......

Alex tips over the easel and makes chalk spill into the tanbark.

IN THE HOUSE I bark at him.

So much for the calming effects of yoga and me today.

Sam is crying and I bend down to sit in the tanbark and hold him and calm both of us down. All I can think is he probably freakin' broke it.

After 5 minutes of trying to soothe and quiet him I take him to the table where I was attempting to pot the flowers. I ask him to help me. He loves to help me. Here is the shovel Sam, put the dirt in here I gently coax. No, ma I can't do it, it huuuuuurrrts he moans. He isn't using his right arm. I ask him to wiggle it. Nope. I carry him inside and lay him on the couch. It huuuuurts ma. I get an ice pack and wrap it in a hand towel and have him stay on the couch. He moans: One boook, ma.

I survey the situation and think to myself : Michael, where are you . Where are you when I freakin' need you. !(!(#*#$&$(#( New York is where you are. It pisses me OFF so.

I read Martha Speaks which Sam loves. He giggles and says: hold it close to my eyes, ma. (He is not able to really sit up with his bum arm.) I hold it closer so he can see. Alex slinks up on the couch to hear the story.

I plurk: "Liz thinks Sam broke his wrist" as a cry to the universe -- I don't know what else to do. It's 7:30 at night. If I go to ER now, noone will get enough sleep. I better just let him try to sleep and check on things in the morning.

Another book, ma Sam bays. I read him In The Night Kitchen which he also loves.

Alex slithers off the couch and steps on my foot and it feels like he was going to tear the skin off it hurt so bad. I let out a scream that came from my throat. It scared the crap out of him and he ran hysterical to his room.

Crowbar where is the crowbar, I just want to knock myself out.

Phone rings: Michael says: What happened? I tell him. He wants to know if something is popping out. I assume he means the bone, I can't believe he thinks I would be calmly answering the phone if anything was "popping out". Urge to scream guttural scream comes up again. I some how calm myself to explain that I will give Sam Tylenol, put him to bed and see how he is doing in the morning. If Sam is not better I will take him for an X- Ray.

Which is what I'll freakin' do.


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  • jeff on on 9.03.2008 at 10:52 AM

    jeff avatar

    yikes! I hope Sam is ok.

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