Ouch, the Wimp

Sunday morning.  Church.  Routine.  Good for the soul. 

Helping out after church.  Stacking chairs.  Stacking chairs high.  Following directions from tear down team.  Stacking them high.  Stacking them straight.  Adjusting the high stack to be straight.  Smash!  OWWWWW!  Don't look.  Oh my gosh is it still there?  Is my finger still there?  Don't look.  Just feel.  Yes!  It's there.  I can feel it.  Really, really feel it.  Feel it so bad I can't breathe.  Yes, I can.  I'm a mom for heaven sakes.  Look at it.  Oh my gosh.  It's bleeding from the middle of the nail.  Crap.  Crap.  Crap.  Ow.  Go wash it off.  Squeeze it and stop it from bleeding.  Why does my whole hand hurt?  Squeeze.  Walk.  Go back to find children.  Look around the room for sympathy.  Looking.  Looking.  Oh, thank you God.  Deb.  Sympathy.  Compassion.  Gonna passsss out.  maybe?  no.  don't.  leeet's siiitttt dooowwwnnnn.  Breathe.  Breathe.  Boys?  Collecting envelopes.  Oblivious.  Good.  Breathe.

Hurts a lot.  A real lot.  Like Oh My God hurt.  Seriously?  Am I a wimp?  No.  I've been told I'm not.  By professionals.  Really.  Like they couldn't believe how much pain I'd withstood.  I'm strong.  Right?  Oh my God this hurts.  It is bad bad bad.  Going for an xray.  There must be at least six or seven broken bones.  Or one really important bone.  Why else would the whole hand hurt so darn much?  OK, OK, OK.  Boys, let's go.  Danny, pack up a bag.  OK, Carter go potty.  Let's go.

Kind people at Quick Care.  Patient and nice.  Sympathy.  Xrays.  Waiting and knowing it's going to require surgery.  Hurts so much..................  Nope.  No break.  Just sprained.  Just bruised.  Nail is damaged.  That must be the source of your pain.  Really?  Seriously?  What's worse: my embarrassment or my pain?  OH.  The combination is worse.  Great.  Great!  Really.  No break.  That's good.  But that's bad.  All this drama and no break.  Just a wimp.  A big ole wimp with LOW pain tolerance.  What does this mean?  I'm a wimp.  Yeah.  It's true. 

Nothing's changed.  My wimpiness didn't change my life yet.  Will it?  Fewer friends?  Less respect?  Less value? 

No.  It means that I'm feeling pain.  Really feeling it.  Have I always?  Probably not.  That's OK.  I hate pain and I don't want pain.  But feeling is feeling, and that's not bad.  I'm OK with being a Wimp now.  At least for today.

Carter's Vines

The other night, I arrived at the day care to pick up Carter shortly before 6PM.  He was sound asleep (with the creepy 1/4 open eyes asleep) on the mini couch in the kindergarten room.  The teacher told me that he'd fallen asleep after spinning.  "Spinning?" I asked.  Yes, he was spinning for about ten minutes.  (OK, seriously, WHO lets a kid spin for TEN MINUTES????  I spin once - yes, just once - and I practically have to sit down and sip gingerale.)  She explained that he felt sick so he laid down.  Sick?  WHY would he feel sick?!? 

I woke him because as much as I like to think he is my "little baby," he is fifty pounds, and while I have the mother bear fortitude to carry him on an as-needed basis, this did not qualify.  It took a lot to wake him because he was OUT cold.  He, like his big brother, always speaks rapidly and continuously from the moment he wakes.  Carter began to explain why he felt so sick.

"Mom, mom, mom, the vines in my back.  You know all the vines?  Well, the vines got all sick when I was spinning and they carried all the germs to the branches and they practically broke.  Then the germs went to my head and I got a baaaaad headache and then the germs went to my tummy, and oh, I fell soooo sick.  I'm never spinning again until two thousand twelve."

Christmas is all about...

Direct quote from Carter three minutes ago.  "Christmas is not all about the presents.... .Christmas is about joy,....about Jesus being born,..... about family,....and love."

Hanukkah

"Mom, how will we celebrate the eight days of Hanukkah?"  "Carter, we don't celebrate Hanukkah."  "Why not?"  "We're not Jewish, we're Christians.  We believe in Jesus."  "Wasn't Jesus Jewish?"  "Yes....."

Pony the Pirate

Riding home from the Special Recreation Association/Knights of Columbus luncheon with Santa, Carter continued his usual barrage of questions about anything and everything.  "Was Christmas the very first holiday we celebrated?"  "When was the first holiday before that?"  "What is the first principle of Hanukkah?"  "Why don't we celebrate Hanukkah?"  And then... "Why did Pony the Pirate not like Jesus?  Why was he so mean to Him?"

Pony the Pirate?  Pony the Pirate.  Pony the Pirate.  OK, was this Veggie Tales or what?  AAAHHH!  It finally occurred to me.  Pontious Pilate.  When I asked Carter, he confirmed with another question. 
"Why was Pontious Pilate so mean mom?"  Well, I wanted to answer, but had to know, "How do you know about Pontious Pilate Carter?"   He couldn't really explain, and truly, what difference does the origin of his historical knowledge really matter?  (Well, to me it really matters.)  But, there's no time for an explanation, only time for another question about the Shepherds.  "Why did they get to see Jesus on His birthday?  Was Jesus one of the Wise Men?  What was your very first present you got for Christmas mom?" and on and on and on...

I know that God smiles when Carter asks me questions.  After all, just a few years ago, there were no questions, and so little conversation.  I prayed and begged and read about encouraging the wh questions and conversation and consulted with his OT and Speech Therapists and never ever gave up.  Here we are.  I've got exactly what I prayed for AND THEN SOME. 

I've got to go look up where all the frogs go in the winter now and then I'll be brushing up on my understanding of Pontious Pilate and Hanukkah and before I'm finished I'm sure there will be more questions and more answers to be found.  I'm the luckiest mommy in the world.