Tuesday, January 06, 2009
You could die!
Boys...there's so much I don't understand about the testosterone driven breed.
I have learned a lot being a mother of three boys.
I had a little bit of Pre-Mom schooling having three brothers growing up, but I'm not sure anything can really prepare you.
Boys love to do things that I would never think of.
They show love by wrestling with you.
They disassemble whatever they can find. No reason.
They collect random things and carry them around in Ziploc bags.
They run toward danger, instead of away.
In fact, they seem to be born with no internal radar for danger. At least that's my boys. I feel like I'm CONSTANTLY saying "You could die!" And not to be dramatic. I'm for real.
You could die if you stick things in the light sockets.
You could die if you meander into the street on your big wheel.
You could die if you break into the medicine cabinet, laugh at the child locks, and have a taste test party with your brother.
YOU COULD DIE!
I feel like I give that speech at least 10 times a day.
Well, my boys are also fairly skilled at needing stitches.
That's another speech I give almost daily. "No stitches today, PLEASE!"
Justus has had about 18 of them. Twice, grabbing sharp objects, cutting his hands, and he was once attacked by a dog and needed about 14 in his face. That was horrific!
Jax only had 3 to his name until this past Sunday. He racked up five more.
He went ice skating with Emma and Rusty. He was doing quite well, but bit it on the ice, and voila! Wide, gaping hole in his chin. (He also knocked out his front tooth a long time ago, but that doesn't count for stitches.)
Rusty calls me and says "I'm bring Jax home and we're stitching him up."
Yes, we're very blessed to skip the whole ER nightmare and do stitches at home. I may not be his best assistant, but I try.
But looking at that open wound on Jax's chin made me feel a little sickish. And I'm not easily sickish.
So we hold him down...Jax is not our most stoic boy...Treston probably wouldn't even look up...but he was pretty big about it. He held still, and Daddy numbed him up and stitched away.
My new mentee, Jeanna, was coming over to jog with me, and she walks in while we're sewing up the hole in my kid's face. She feels faint at the sight of needles, so that was probably fun for her. We're not a normal family, I suppose.
Well, lucky for my boys, chicks dig scars.