So, I'm doing pretty well in school. Yeah, those are words I never expected to hear myself saying at my age. (Am also not telling you all my age!)
It's been a frustrating week. First and most horribly, Connor broke his arm on the playground at school. It was awful, getting that call, racing down to the school to pick him up. I get so queasy in any sort of 'grossly swollen' or 'horribly twisted' or 'pointed the wrong direction' sort of medical situation that I almost passed out on the floor of the school clinic. I know that I was almost passing out because I have done it before, in a similar situation. I ended up breaking my own nose, that time. Fortunately I managed to restrain myself and, instead, ran to the bathroom and threw up.
His teacher asks me, "He jumped off the monkey bars. He must have landed wrong. Are you upset with me?"
In theory, no I am not upset with her. It was not her fault. She has 18 other children to watch and cannot follow behind him, arms upstretched to catch him when he falls (jumps). Besides, that child is not referred to as Monkey Boy for nothing.
However..... I want to yell at her, "I managed to keep him safe, happy and whole for 5 1/2 years. You have him for 3 weeks...3 WEEKS...and he's broken. What the h#** is going on?" Somehow I managed to restrain myself, smile politely and say.."Well, he's a very active little boy."
Good for me. I am patting myself on the back as I type this. ( and that ain't easy, let me tell ya!)
Oh, and another really sucky part is now my husband is stuck coaching a T-ball team that his own son can't even play on. Ironic.
It's been a frustrating week. First and most horribly, Connor broke his arm on the playground at school. It was awful, getting that call, racing down to the school to pick him up. I get so queasy in any sort of 'grossly swollen' or 'horribly twisted' or 'pointed the wrong direction' sort of medical situation that I almost passed out on the floor of the school clinic. I know that I was almost passing out because I have done it before, in a similar situation. I ended up breaking my own nose, that time. Fortunately I managed to restrain myself and, instead, ran to the bathroom and threw up.
His teacher asks me, "He jumped off the monkey bars. He must have landed wrong. Are you upset with me?"
In theory, no I am not upset with her. It was not her fault. She has 18 other children to watch and cannot follow behind him, arms upstretched to catch him when he falls (jumps). Besides, that child is not referred to as Monkey Boy for nothing.
However..... I want to yell at her, "I managed to keep him safe, happy and whole for 5 1/2 years. You have him for 3 weeks...3 WEEKS...and he's broken. What the h#** is going on?" Somehow I managed to restrain myself, smile politely and say.."Well, he's a very active little boy."
Good for me. I am patting myself on the back as I type this. ( and that ain't easy, let me tell ya!)
Oh, and another really sucky part is now my husband is stuck coaching a T-ball team that his own son can't even play on. Ironic.
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