You know that feeling when you go on vacation, and you’re so looking forward to it and need it and it is SO exciting, but then you come back and it’s like the whole world punishes you for being gone? I have no idea how things can fall apart in what can’t equate to five significant seconds in the grand scheme of things, but they do. Thank you Murphy.
Really it’s not so bad, though. It usually just makes me laugh.
Last Friday afternoon, I left the boys home with Hank (on his work day, eek, and also on their last day of Winter Break), to take myself out on a solo movie date. It was awesome. AWESOME. I felt a little naughty and giddy that I was out in public and without children and all by myself. There were no conversations to referee, and I could actually listen to whole and complete sentences the whole way through THE FIRST TIME THEY WERE SAID and no one said “fart” or “butt” one, single time. I almost giggled out loud. But instead, I just slouched in my seat a little, sipping my renegade chai that I had sneaked into the movie theater illegally and smiled a wide, quiet and happy smile.
The two-and-a-half movie flew by. And then I was ready to be back with my boys. It doesn’t take much for a rejuv.
I came home…
The kitchen was a disaster. Dishes piled in the sink. Grated cheese drying on the floor. Cracker crumbs everywhere. Spilled drops of milk on the counter. Coffee table pulled out of the living room and into the kitchen. Boy sitting on the couch with a disgustingly swollen finger that was bruising very quickly.
Seems as though the 8yo was dodging the Whomping Willow, while playing Harry Potter Xbox, and accidentally slammed his hand into the floor. It was one of those injuries that didn’t really hurt him (as in, no crying or complaining – yay), but looked terrible, and all fingers were still working and gripping and moving…so we just watched it. We couldn’t determine if it was jammed or sprained or something was broken.
The next morning, we went about our day easily.
You know, in the window light, it doesn’t look bad at all. Just a little swollen, perhaps.
After check in and X-rays, we cozied up in our room for a short wait.
And then…the power went out.
So we amused ourselves in the dark room with the doors propped open a little after the generator revved up and the hall lights came on.
And then…the whole place smelled like smoke and the fire department came. Still…we waited in our dark room as our boy secretly and then not-so-secretly really, really hoped that he had a broken hand.
Just last week he confessed that on his bucket list, he had “broken arm”. I would have thought this was really weird, but then I remembered that my older sister wished for the same thing when she was little, along with a black eye, and I always wanted crutches.
While we sat in the dark, the X-rays came back in. The awesome NP knew how badly Holden wanted something to be broken, so she took her time with the images, which showed no breaks.
It’s super tiny, but it’s there, see? She let the mouse cursor rest right next to the chip at the base of his middle finger (of course it’s the middle one).
Oh my word. Holden BEAMED.
And then we pushed his chair out into the hallway so that there was enough light to place his splint.
So we went sledding to celebrate.