I Tried To Warn You!

Did I ever mention that I finally rigged up a seat-belt situation to help train my older boys to sit properly in their chairs? After countless times reminding them to sit up, sit still, stop one-cheeking it, get off your knees, no you may not lay on your chair, no you may not sit backwards, stop rocking, stop tipping, JUST SIT ON YOUR BOTTOM AND SIT UP RIGHT!!! - I finally bought some handy bungee cords that do just the trick for wiggly bottoms. I strap them down to their chairs when they just seem to have springs instead of butt cheeks.

Well, even though he is far too big for it now, I have kept Jack in his high chair as long as possible just to keep him contained. But he knows he's too big and his poor thighs are just getting squished in there, so he has been asking for and sitting in regular chairs more and more often, which just means one more springy bottom to deal with.

This sort of shenanigans is bad enough at the breakfast table, but at the counter, it goes beyond teaching good table manners and ventures into dangerous waters. My chairs at the counter are very sturdy, very high, and very heavy. Knock one of those bad boys over while sitting in it and you could really hurt yourself.

I am CONSTANTLY warning Jack not to climb onto and off of them by himself. Surely he was listening to all the terrible things I patiently warned him could happen to him or my poor chairs, right?

Wrong. Tonight, as I was cleaning up dinner, Jack decided he was finished and immediately began the decent. Right as I was dropping what I was doing to halt his progress, the chair went over. How he managed to remain upright through this is beyond me, but he somehow landed on his feet - and so did the chair. We all thought he was crying because he was mostly scared until we noticed the blood seeping from his big toe. His entire toenail was hanging by a tiny bit of skin off the tip of his toe.

Man, that must have hurt. Somehow, saying "I told you so" to a sobbing and clearly in pain 2-year old isn't very satisfying so I just tried to clean it all up the best I could and comfort him in the process. Dare I hope he learned his lesson with the chairs now? Only time will tell...

To end on a more endearing note: I did get a good two hour snuggle from him after this incident, which anyone who knows Jack, knows that is unheard of. He's not a snuggler. As we lay cozy under a blanket watching a movie with the big boys, he kept checking on his bandaid covered toe, just to see it and then would give a deep sigh and say, "Remember my toe, mom?" or"Remember when I cried so long?" or "Remember when I knocked chair over?" It was pretty cute.

Brain Injuries

Today we were releasing some extra energy by throwing balls at each other in a battle for the domination of the earth (the basement.)

Before you start imagining getting socked in the temple by a baseball or a football, I will add that these balls were all hand picked by mom and were all soft enough to be deemed safe.

At one point, right after I landed a sweet shot right on Mitchell's noggin, he fell over and said, "Oh mom! you hit my brain! Now I can't even think anymore!"

This explains so much! So many times, I have wondered why Mitchell's brain isn't functioning properly. We now know that one too many soft squishy ball to the head has caused some slight brain injuries.

Another Use For Those New Teeth

Why is it that when little boys bash or gash or slice or dice themselves, they always do it on their adorably perfect little faces?!  A few weeks ago, it was Mitchell attempting to blind himself on one side by head-bashing the coffee table and only narrowly missing his eyeball.  

This week?  The injured one is my sweet little baby boy, Jack.  While Mitchell's gash was scary and traumatic, it was also not his first war wound.  He has already had his face glued back together twice before, so his perfection had already been marred.  But Jack!  His face was untarnished by any lasting cuts and scars so far!

I must say, he has the worst timing for beating himself up too.  Not only was Matt already gone this morning for work, but he took my car!  We were just getting all of us bundled and ready to head out the door to school (and Mitchell's Christmas performance) when Jack fell forward just shy of the coffee table - just close enough to bash his chin down onto it, biting clean through his lower lip.  He plopped down on his bottom, took a deep breath, and then let it rip!  It was one of those wails that takes a really long, scary intake of breath before beginning, to allow for full velocity and feeling!

Now what!?  I have to get these guys to school, Mitchell's Christmas performance is in an hour, I have no car, I am nowhere near a hospital...

My  more cautious friends will shake their heads at me here, but I changed his clothes, cleaned up his gash, gave him some tylenol and some big chunks of ice to suck on/chew on.  He seemed to like that ice pretty well and it really stopped the bleeding.  

We somehow got out the door and got the other boys where they needed to be and Jack went right to sleep when we got back home.  I had plenty of other moms to bounce my story and concerns off of and receive opinions and feedback from at drop-off.  While a few were adamant that I should take him to the ER immediately, most seemed to think that would be unecesary.  The cut is clean and straight and I think it needs no further medical aid, but what a place for a scar!  Why, oh why, do they do this to their faces?  I don't mind if they scar up their elbows or knees or legs or arms.  Those might even look "cool" some day and be shown off to admiring friends who delight in such "manliness."  Perhaps they will proudly show off their facial scars as well, but as a mom, I just have to wonder why it ALWAYS happens on the face!

So Mitchell has had his fair share of medical attention to his face, and now Jack put a new hole in his face.  You better watch out, Ben!  You must be next!  Actually, I'm sure Mitchell will beat you to it...