Monday, March 26, 2007

What a difference a day makes

The rain cleared for a beautifully sunny day yesterday. We headed off to the beach and for the first time the boy was able to just run around on his own, finding clams and always heading for the water through the muck. I kept trying to hold his hand because it was so slippery and I could just see the potential wipe-outs and subsequent muddings of the face and clothes. The boy was happy, happy until I'd try to grab his hand; he wanted to explore and run on his own!

I was so nervous about T and the boy heading out on Saturday. They were going fairly far, and the roads were just a mess with the downpours (urban flooding, you know). I'm never very far away from the boy and I was so tense about it all. I kept telling T things he knows, and it should be said that he's an amazing father who always knows what to do for the boy (he doesn't need me to tell him anything). Anyhow, they had a grand time together and came home safe and sound.

Then last night while I was cooking dinner and T was about six inches away from the boy, spotting him as descended the Morris chair (the boy's all-time favorite activity now: climbing), the boy took a face plant dive onto the floor. I'm not used to the terror of all of that blood and of not knowing for ten minutes if your child is actually OK or not. I suppose you might never get used to the terror of that feeling, and the helplessness when your baby is hurting and there really isn't anything you can do about it. All weekend I'd been nervous about him venturing out and I tried far too much to keep him from falling at the beach, and then when we were home and he had T right next to him he fell so hard. His mouth is all so cut-up and the poor boy was exhausted and so hungry; after an hour or so of crying, and after frozen peas and yo-yo (yogurt-- his idea) we just got ready for bed and he fell right asleep.

Anyhow, things like this will happen with a climbing little boy and I can't always control his world and I can't always worry away the troubles. Today I'm going to give him more Tylenol and lots of love though and I suppose he'll be right back at it with the Morris chair. He climbs up, turns around, sits down and clasps his hands together with the most proud and happy look on his face.

Right above him, to the left on the mantle when he sits in the Morris chair, are Henry and Olivia. Henry and Olivia are Rose's siblings made of vintage angora and lamb's wool. Olivia's button eyes are from my Great Grandpa's military long underwear (shhh... perhaps we shouldn't mention this to her). Henry's a good listener and great company, and Olivia can be a bit of a pill (but she's a nice little bird, don't get me wrong). Henry's in the little shop right now. I love these birds.

Alright. I'm finishing a tutorial for turning a Martha Stewart dish towel into a nice little bag with interfacing and a lining... Tomorrow? I love these bags.

Aaahh, there's the boy stirring so early in the morning. I suppose that mouth is really going to hurt when he wakes. I love that boy.

2 comments:

Bitterbetty said...

Oh, the hard falls of happy boys! You can't catch them all. We had Valentine's day stitches from running near the coffee table at my house. Now that he's 11 he hardly ever get physically hurt.. I just have to worry about the emotional crashes now.

Thanks so much for stopping by the blog and for the bag tip. That was very kind of you. Your blog is lovely. I will be back!

beki said...

Ooo, you know I love bags made from Martha's kitchen towels! I can't wait to see it.
What is it with boys and falling? Mine falls all the time. Just the other day he went face first on the concrete, now he has a skinned up nose. I hope your little guy isn't too sore today.