Protected: March 29, 2015
The girls pulled open their sock drawer to look for tights. The sock drawer is head-height for small children. From the kitchen I heard a massive, prolonged crash and then two synchronized screams. Cordelia had bashed her head into thherock drawer which somehow knocked it off its track and it fell on her, slicing open her arm. There isnt anything exceptionally sharp about the sock drawer so I believe that the wooden corner is what did the damage. Her gash is deep and ragged. If she was an adult and it was proportionate to her body, it would be a cut about 2-3 inches long.
This kid does not panic about pain. She stood there holding her arm watching the blood trickle down, crying, but relatively calm. I gave her some direction – sit on the toilet, now I’m going to turn on the sink, come put your arm under the water and wait for me I need to get some hydrogen peroxide. She held her arm under the tap and cried and cried, then remembered and took some big deep breaths (we do a lot of deep breaths. There’s multiple meltdowns in a week, she is well practiced). She told me it was hurting a lot but still allowed me to clean, wrap her in gauze and band-aid it down without fighting or trying to pull away.
usually Cordelia does not need me very much, or at least needs me in a very different way than blaze does. She has always been completely independant. Its a good trait to have but makes for some heart-stopping moments in toddlerhood, like running into the street or vanishing in the museum, or crawling away from our table, up the stairs and out onto the sidewalk in a cafe in Prague. Which is why she spent a lot of her early walking years with bells tied on her shoes. She doesn’t need to be close to me or know where i am and doesnt have any fears about getting lost or separated.
Until she hurts herself.
If she is sick or in pain, suddenly she really needs me. When blaze wants to be in my lap, she will just get in my lap. But cordelia approaches me slowly and stands there without saying a word. She needs to be invited to come sit with me, she won’t ask or just insert herself like blaze does. You need to encourage her first. If you don’t catch her cues, she will walk off and say nothing about it. Today I sat with her in the rocking chair and she just wrapped her whole body around me and cried and told me her arm hurt a lot. We must have sat there for half an hour. She quickly calmed down, but she just stayed with me until she was ready to go play again.
This is my firstborn. We have a slightly difficult relationship. She is harder for me to parent because in quite a lot of ways she is so similar to me that we butt heads a lot. I have an easier time with blaze, who shows me far more explicit affection and doesn’t get into so many power struggles and actually does care if I exist and greets me with a giant hug and “I missed you!” After being at nursery for just three hours. Its hard for me to remember that Cordelia is the same person, the first person in fact, that i carried for 9 months and who slid out of me in the middle of the night almost five years ago and splashed blood and amnio fluid all over my midwife, soaking her jeans to the knees. But when she has a big cut on her arm and she’s feeling like shit and she needs to press every part of her little body into me and cry quietly for a while, its a lot easier to remember.
24 weeks. feeling a bit uncomfortable and my skin feels thin and stretched. its not nearly as uncomfortable as it will get though. now when she moves you can see it ripple across my stomach. i am getting regular braxton-hicks, those really annoying practice contractions. (seriously uterus, you don’t need to practice. we are pros at this.) when i roll over at night i get a flurry of little squeezes. i have always felt braxton-hicks in my stomach as well as my chest. theres something about these little squeezy practices that make me feel like my ribcage is being constricted and it makes it difficult to catch my breath.
my view from the top.
I have to hold my breath when i bend over to pick things up off the floor, load the bottom rack of the dishwasher, or pull laundry out from the dryer. it won’t be long before I can’t do those things anymore.
shutting down. rather quickly, in fact.
my midwife asked me ‘how do you feel about it?” i am at peace with it. i am resigned to it. its going to happen. it was always going to happen. it IS happening. what i don’t like is that when it happens to me, it also unfortunately happens to other people. that part just kills me. the involuntary shutting down is, i think, to protect everyone else from being sideswiped.
gotta love the hindus. theres a full spectrum of deities, one for everything you could imagine! theres even a goddess of lying on the floor in a million pieces. i like her.
i had a bunch of things to do today. then the children were shits all morning (like, horrific, worse than they have been in a long time, terrible shits) and today went from “this is going to be a good day where i get a lot of things done” to “please just let me survive until bedtime”
jim went to work and i hated him for it. how is it that you have the luxury of leaving? i am in this prison at home.
i cut up apples and sliced cheese and presented the girls with a snack then went to bed to hide and cry. they calmed down. i calmed down. i made myself get up and make pancakes. thats about all i can handle – make pancakes. i don’t give one fuck if thats just white bread with syrup on top and its not properly healthy. i jsut need ot put some food in all of us before i list them on craigslist.
i want to ask the virgin mary: tell me, did jesus ever scream all night? did he ever barf on you? how come your clothes are always so immaculate, i don’t see poo on you anywhere. please tell me that he had an everlasting tantrum and you wanted to strangle him at some point. he may have been the saviour, but he was also a baby and a toddler and a child first. you must have had bad days. and yet, in all your paintings, he is always happy and clean and you never have bags under your eyes or look like you are about to loose it. I’m pretty certain that Josephs income as a carpenter wasn’t high enough for you two to be able to hire an imported nanny.
maybe I’ll paint my own mary and jesus photo. if she looked less like a magazine ad or a mommy blog i could find the whole thing more believable.
I’ve been putting these in a little bit at a time, maybe three or four in a go, for about two weeks.
theres about 50 of them. last time i had i think 42 or 43. this time i wanted them slightly thinner. i just spent the last hour messing with them and finishing up the last 5 of them. i look like a goofball – but at least its not boring! when i put them in i thought, “right. back to normal.”