Jam hands

Do you guys remember that episode of Gilmore Girls when Luke finds out his nephew Jess is coming to stay with him, and he freaks out about how kids always seem to have jam on their hands? How even if there's no jam in the house, they still somehow have "jam hands"?

We DO have jam in the house.

OWWWWW.

Yesterday I dropped the shower head on my toe. I was actually showering with the kids at the time, the better to quickly rinse off the sandbox sand and grass and such after splashing around in the wading pool, so I was precluded from letting out a string of obscenities. And I really, really wanted to let out a string of obscenities. Unfortunately, I was stuck with shouting, in a tone that clearly indicated I was NOT fine, "I AM FINE! I HURT MY TOE BUT IT WILL BE FINE! NO, NORA, DON'T TOUCH IT I AM FINE!" Happily, Andrew was home and relieved me of my parental obligations so I could go pace around the kitchen and swear to my heart's content.

I thought I just stubbed it, but started to get worried when the swearing didn't help that much. Upon examination, I discovered that my toe was turning black. And after dinner, I discovered that the pain was getting worse. Worse, not better! But I could move it, and anyway, they don't do anything for a broken toe even if it was broken, so I was not about to go to the ER.

Long story short, I spent the evening with my foot raised over my head - a tricky thing to do when you are not allowed to lie flat on your back. Neither am I allowed to have ibuprofen, so I was stuck with acetametaphin and ice. I was worried I wouldn't be able to sleep because of the pain, but then I remembered who I am and fell asleep during my very favorite show, so there was no trouble there.

I think the worst part about all of it may be that it was such a stupid way to injure myself. Couldn't I have dropped, I don't know, a soup can or something heavy at least? But no, it was the shower head. And I dropped it on PURPOSE, because I was letting it drain and thought I was holding the hose close enough to the head to keep it from hitting the floor. Also I did not realize my toe was right under it, but I'm going to blame not wearing my glasses on that one. And also, I did not know the shower head was MADE OF LEAD. My word, that thing was heavy.

This morning my toe still hurts, but it's better. I'm still trying to keep it raised, so the initial throbbing as the blood returns whenever I put it back down on the ground is no picnic, but then it subsides to a sort of dull ache that at least doesn't make me want to cry.

But please don't touch it, Nora.

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(That picture does not do justice to the amount of pain that poor toe is in. IT REALLY REALLY HURTS.)

Her mother's daughter

After a weekend pancake breakfast, Nora decided to clean up. It seems she subscribes to the “Neat piles of stuff” philosophy when it comes to making things tidy.

Some kid stuff

Some kid stuff

A few months ago, Jack had a bad dream and had to come sleep in our bed. The next day, as we were driving somewhere in the car, I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw him looking droopy and tired. “You can close your eyes and take a nap, honey,” I told him.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” he said.

“OK,” I replied, “but it’s just that you look really tired.”

“But I’m afraid to go to sleep,” he said. “What if I have another bad dream?”

My heart broke, but I tried to play it cool and asked him if he wanted to tell me about the dream he had the night before. I can’t quite remember what it was about, but I do remember thinking, “Wow, that is pretty scary.” I think it was something along the lines of a bad monster chasing him, trying to steal him away from us.

But I can’t have a kid afraid to go to sleep, so I said, “Jack, you know that dreams are just in your head, right? And you’re the one in charge of your head! So you know what you should do? Before you go to sleep, you just tell your head, ‘Head? No bad dreams.’ And then if you have a bad dream anyway, you should just say, ‘Hey! I’m dreaming! That means I’m in charge! Head? Change this dream!’ and then you can just change the dream!” Jack giggled.

“I could turn it into a flying dream!” he said.

“Exactly!” I replied. “Those are my favorite dreams too.”

He did fall asleep in the car because he just couldn’t fight it. And that night, Andrew reported that Jack asked him to wait a second before he sang songs and then whispered to himself, “Head? No bad dreams.” He’s been telling his head what to do every night since.

But this breaks my heart even more, because the trust! In me! When he has another bad dream, which I assume will happen eventually, will he think I lied to him? Which… I did? But on the other hand, did I really? Maybe all it takes to keep away the bad dreams is to truly believe that you just have to tell your head not to have any.

Parenthood, man. It’ll get ya.

***

Yesterday, something small – I forget what, exactly – made a loud noise that surprised us. “Woah!” said Jack.

“Yeah, you don’t expect something small to make a loud noise, huh?” I said. “Loud noises usually come from big things.”

There was a slight pause while Jack processed this. Then he said, “Nora’s pretty loud.”

He’s right. She is.

***

We have started the presumed hundred-year-long potty-training process with Nora, so she’s been spending a lot of time pantsless. As you do. Andrew found her one such time wearing naught but a t-shirt. “Nora, you’re naked!” he said.

She looked down at herself, and then looked back at him with genuine confusion. “I not naked, I still wearing a shirt.”

She was right. She was.