All They Can Prove is I Had His Babies

The entire time the nurse was casting Grady's foot I knew it was just the beginning.  We were lucky.  I can't believe he made it this far.  I was right.  I'm always right.  I'm the mom, I know these things.  Preventing Grady from jumping off of furniture is like going to the bathroom without someone watching.  It's not gonna happen woman.  So I give up.  Grady still jumps and I stopped going to the bathroom. 

We are not even half way through our cast stint, and yet last night I found myself packing bags for the emergency room.  Grady started on the top bunk and ended on the floor.  I still don't know if it was a fall, a jump, or a dive.  What I do know is that he split the back of his head open.  On a toy, or maybe a drawer.  See... so many variables.   At first glance, I think stitches.  I sigh and sulk up the stairs to change out of my pajamas.  Sean tries to stop the bleeding while practicing for National Cursing Day.  Sean only has himself to blame.  Karma is a bitch.  He was a broken, bloody mess as a kid.    Somehow his mother survived.  And we will too.  What I don't understand...is why I have to suffer for Sean's naughtiness when all I'm guilty of is thinking he's cute and having his babies. 

As the golf ball on the back of Grady's head concedes to the frozen bag of corn kernals,  we get a closer look.  The wound isn't gaping nearly as much now.  It will heal eventually.  It's nothing a little Elmer's Glue can't fix.   Sean and I make the executive decision that stitches are not neccesary.  It's so fun to be executives!  Let's do that again! 

See!  I fixed him right up...can't even tell anything happened right?

This morning, to make everything better, we go to a  birthday party at Chuck-e-Cheese.  The benenfit of a Thursday morning birthday party at Chuck's place?  We are the only birthday party there.  Makes chasing the triple threat too easy.  At one point I look over at Grady and he has a double fistful of game tokens.  Where did those come from?  I spy on him for a few minutes.  He squats down in front of the Skee Ball machine, sticks out his pointer finger, hooks it into a hole, and pulls open a drawer.  One that's supposed to be locked and securing Chuck's gold mine.  Grady is stealing Mr. Cheese's tokens.  At least it's not Vegas.  Can I get in trouble for this?  I pretend like I don't know what's going on.   It's not hard.  I practice it every day.

When it's time to eat, Lil sits with her friends, Grady is riding the horse like a bull, and I seat Demspey far, far away from the general population.  He throws food.  Really far.  Soon enough I'm covered in lemonade, pizza, and cupcake.  Maybe it's time to go.  This is really super fun and all, but I need to go shave my head now.  We stop in the bathroom before heading out.  And just when I think I can't get any cuter, Grady looks right at my crotch and says, "You have big vagina."  Thanks.

Souvenirs...just so I don't forget the day I learned I have a big vagina.

And if you think big vaginas are funny....vote for me!




Just Butterball It

Broken.  Grady's foot.  I really didn't think much of it.  Last night, the triple threat are playing 'pool'. According to big sister's rules, everyone must have on swimsuits, and the boys are required to go shirtless.  Regardless of the fact that it's mid February.  The blue futon pillow is tossed on the floor, aka...the pool.  Let the furniture jumping begin.  Although Dempsey can climb onto the vaulting apparatuses, he's not cannonballing it yet (or butterballing it...Lil's term...not mine).  He merely wades in the shallow end.  Grady takes a big bound, feet first, landing haphazardly.  Half in the pool and half out.  He cries, but he's over it within seconds.  Onto perfecting his butterball.  There is no swelling or bruising.  Fast forward to this morning...and Grady's penguin walk.  I make an appointment for an X-ray.  After only one stuffed pig baptism in the water fountain, and Grady slamming the big X on the X-ray machine, shutting that sucker down, we are on our way, with splint, to McDonald's.  We hit up Sam's Club, the boys take a brief nap in the car and before I can scream say HELP (Has Excessive Little People), we're in the waiting room of The Orthopaedic and Sports Medicine Center.  Because, you know, raising the triple threat truly is a sport.

Now they add glitter, who wouldn't want to break a bone?

No place like a bathroom to strut your stuff

He won.  Grady did.  So far, Grady has the youngest broken bone, at two.  Dempsey still has time to claim the title.   Lil was three when she broke her hand.  I had no idea.  She never complained.  No swelling or bruising.  She was grasping her bribe pops with her toes, my only clue.  Broken.  Lillian's hand.

Big sister, so far, holds the title for youngest stitches. She wins.  Demspey still has time to claim that title.  Lil was eighteen months old when she dove off her rocking horse, slamming head first into the corner of the wall.  Maybe she should have butterballed it.

First head wound

Even hospitals use bribes

I sure hope Dempsey's not going to be our loser kid.  He hasn't won anything yet.  So many titles up for grabs and so little time.  What's up with that Demps?  You scared?  Because I am.  Don't win.  Just butterball it.

Dempsey at three months