It wasn't a whiney day, he even kept a good attitude through the whole rotten thing, but I tell you, I only didn't write this yesterday because I was waiting for something else to happen. Let me explain.
The Oldest Kid had a Pinewood Derby car race in the morning for cubscouts. We'd worked on his car for weeks, sanding and painting and weighing and gluing. He'd said before that he only wanted to come in better than sixth place, what he'd placed the last two years. Yeah, he came in tenth, out of twelve. He was sad, but took it unbelievably well, especially for him. And his defense, if you would have taken out the cars that were actually made by dads, he would have come in fifth or higher. (You should have seen the kid who won - he could have cared less - his dad cared FAR more than he did - because dad made the car - it was kind of sad.) But I'm not bitter, I promise. We told the oldest that he did his best and that we were proud of his hard work. And we are.
That was only the beginning. In fact, the least of the rotten part of my kid's day. After lunch, I'd just sat down to work on recovering my couch, and I heard a crash. I thought it was the little one flinging the Wiimote across the room, AGAIN. But in came the oldest, holding his head. Crying, "I jumped up and hit my head on the cabinet!" He pulled his hand away to let me look, and that's when he saw the blood and Panicked. I have to admit, I Panicked a little, too, but mostly it was because he was dripping and he was over carpet and near my newly recovered couch. "IN THE KITCHEN, GO!"
We cleaned it up, put ice and pressure on it and stopped the bleeding fairly quickly, but you know how much blood pours out of a wound on the top of your head. Yuck. I tried to clean up the drips on the tile before he saw them, but he was following me. And Panicked. And then I shouldn't have shown him the drips on his pants. But then I started to worry about whether he needed stitches or glue or something.
And of course, Sarge was working (because that's when all disasters happen, naturally). We took his suggestion to go to the firestation and have the paramedics take a look, because the last place I wanted to be on a Saturday afternoon was the emergency room - that's when my children usually decide it's a good idea to start licking random surfaces. So we piled in the minivan and headed to the fire station. And they were so good to us, and didn't even laugh in my face for being such a worrywart. And they said it would be fine healing up on it's own.
But that's not the last of my poor baby's rotten day. When we got home, we resumed turns playing on the Wii. And during his turn, I was ready to put the couch back into the room (we're only missing back cushions, but that should happen today! Woo Hoo!), so I moved him out of the chair we'd placed in the middle of the room, returned it to it's spot and then put the lamp back. While he was backing into the chair, he totally missed and ran into my lamp. Fell over on it, shattering the glass bowl shade to bits. Sobbing, again, "Mommy, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry" My kids know how much I love that lamp. And how excited I was to have a grownup lamp. And how I'll never have another one, because I'll never find such a great deal on a lamp on clearance!
I wasn't mad at him. I'm sad, but it was an accident, and mostly, I just felt sorry for the kid. He just couldn't catch a break yesterday. But I was so proud of him, because he dealt with each setback so much better than I could have hoped for. I'm blaming the clumsiness, for now, on a growth spurt, which sometimes he'll do - he'll just not know where to expect his body parts to be and get all clumsy for a week or so and then figure it out. But I'm thinking that maybe his maturity had a little growth spurt, too, and for that I'm grateful.
And if you actually read all this garbage, thank you. This apparently is what happens when I don't write often enough - I have a horrible long brain dump all at one time. Phwew!