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Never a Dull Moment

May 25, 2011

The call came in around 10am. I was at work.

This is Miss Michele calling from the preschool office. We have Scrappy here…

Which is usually how those calls begin. She goes on to explain why, and, as usual, my response was:

He did what?!

He had been in a time-out. Evidently, he got bored as he sat there up against the wall on the playground. Oh look, there are pebbles on the ground. Look at the pretty pebble. I shall put one up my nose…

And here we are.

I went down to the preschool office to find my little tear-stained miscreant, sniffling and red-faced at the admin’s desk. Poor Miss Michele – she was wringing her hands as she told me what I needed to do.

You want me to do what?!

Plug the unaffected nostril and blow into his mouth. Really hard. It should pop right out.

Sounds easy enough until you take into account that this is a very strong, very upset little boy who does not WANT to have mouth-to-mouth resuscitation at the moment, thankyouverymuch.

But, sweetie, the doctor will have to put pointy tweezers up your nose! We want the rocky to come out don’t we?

I plead with him, on my knees, wiping away giant tears that poured down his swollen cheeks. No, mommy, nooooo….

At one point, on a break from our labor, I asked him: how did the rock get up there, lovey?

Calmly, with wide-eyed sincerity: It just climbed up dere all by isself, mama. It’s going up into my BRAIN!

It wasn’t a pleasant experience for either of us, but the delivery was successful after three attempts and lots of blowing. An audible “thock” and our naughty pebble finally flew out of the poor, abused little nose.

He was so delighted with his accomplishment, I can only hope that he’ll forget the worst of the trauma his mother inflicted. Or rather, forget enough so as not to have nightmares, but remember enough so as never to attempt such a feat ever again. He clapped his little hands, those chubby tear-stained cheeks, bright red with exertion and stress now wreathed in smiles, and told everyone we passed “I did it! I did it!”

As for me, I may need to seek counseling for PTSD.

Life as a boy-mom. Never a dull moment. And you never know what you’re capable of until after it’s all over.

Scrappy is now back in class, the conquering hero, filling his friends heads full of tales of his harrowing experience as they enjoy their morning snack.

Life as a boy-mom. Never a dull moment.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. Heather permalink
    May 25, 2011 8:25 pm

    My grandmother once had to clean an incredibly painful and rock-filled skin knee of mine. She said, midway through cleaning and with tear-filled eyes that matched mine, “the hardest thing about being a mother, sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.”

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