I look like a freak thanks to my mom. No, really, I do mean THANKS to my mom! I’m not ashamed to admit that yesterday afternoon, I called my mom and fighting tears and pretending to mostly joke (although not joking AT ALL), I told her, “I need my mommy!” And I did. And sometimes that really is who and what we need.
Yesterday morning, while running with my running partners, Andrea and Diana, I totally bit it. I stupidly tripped on a stupid lip in the stupid sidewalk and stupid fell like a stupid-head on my stupid face. Actually, no, thankfully, I saved my face and chin THIS time (as opposed to June 5th, 2011, when I split my chin open on a 12 mile run and got to experience stitches for the first time). This time, instead of landing on my knees and chin, I landed primarily on my right knee and left hand. The knee was bad but not THAT bad and thankfully I was wearing Capri-pants and not shorts, so I didn’t have to dig dirt and gravel out of my knee. The hand, on the other hand (yuck yuck) was another story. A HUGE flap of skin was ripped and hanging there and underneath was a red, angry, gravel-dirt covered hole. AWE-Some. Once again, I amazed myself and shed no tears (those came once I was home and attempting to clean up with Mike’s help). I stood back up and looked up, up, up our huge-ass neighborhood hill that I tripped at the very bottom. Nothing but uphill from there – the whole way home. Nearly a mile of pretty dang steep hill. Cool. Somehow, I managed to run home with the gals laughing and joking about how I managed to get through the uneven trail part of our run only to fall when I hit (yuck yuck) the smooth, paved part.
Mike tried – he really did – to help get me cleaned up. I'm not the easiest patient to work on. We poured on Hydrogen Peroxide – the meanest creation in all of history – and I cried and writhed as it bubbled and foamed and…failed in helping us extract some of the dirt. I decided I’d rather die of a gravel-dirt-induced infection than continue in trying to dig stuff out of my flesh.
Later in the day, I attempted a hot bath which many claimed would ‘gently loosen’ the debris. Lies. I scrubbed like crazy through my tears and realized this just ain’t gonna happen. That’s when I called mommy. Mom was already planning on coming over later in the afternoon to stay with Zachary and Kayliana while Mike and I went to coach Matthew’s baseball team to (yet another – 3 in a row! – victory!!) So, I called Mom and asked her to stop at the store and find some magically numbing solution, to bring her First Aid supplies and to bring her Mom-awesomeness. Her mawesomeness. Seriously, sometimes, you really just NEED your mom.
She denies it, but I’m pretty sure she totally gagged when I uncovered my nasty wound. She said a prayer (I said lots of prayers and some not so nice words in my head as well) and she began spraying and gently digging with a needle. We’d put on a tv show to keep the kids entertained as I didn’t think that their watching Grandma dig in mommy’s open wound seemed like a good family bonding activity. Matthew had started to come in the room and I said, “Matthew, go watch the show. I really don’t think you want to see this.” A little bit later, Zachary was heading towards us and Matthew yelled, “Zach, you really DO NOT wanna go in there!”
After working her magic and extracting most extractable pieces of non-me that were in me, Mom bandaged my hand up and announced that I was to wear a vinyl glove for the next day or so. The open wound is really hard to cover well as it’s JUST at the top of my palm; right underneath my fingers, keeping germs out is a good plan. And if it means that I look like a left-handed surgeon who missed the OR, oh well!
Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without having my parents close by. At Saturday’s baseball game, they surprised us by showing up, and as I tried to run the dug-out (as is my Assistant Coaching gig during games), I had to deal with Kayli who’d skinned her knees on the playground – twice!! OUCH, I feel that pain! -- and then a bit later, I look up to see Zach running towards us covered in blood. He had a gusher of a bloody nose. What I would’ve done without them there to help is beyond me. Then, yesterday, despite the off and on pouring rain we still had our game. If mom hadn’t come here to be with the kids I would’ve had to somehow deal with a sorta-non-functioning left hand, a dug-out full of wild 7-9 year old boys, a wet and miserable toddler and a beyond bored, full of attitude (and also cold and wet) seven year old as well. THANK GOODNESS for moms.
This idea of ‘sometimes all you need is your mom’ is reassuring to me on so many levels. I think about a conversation I had last year with Kayliana’s birth mom, Mia. Mia, as an adoptee herself, talked about how, despite now building a relationship with HER birth mom, there’s just nothing like your MOM. She understands and recognizes that while she WILL get to have an ongoing relationship with Kayli, when it comes to wanting MOM, I’M the one Kayli will want. MOM is the one who raises you, comforts you when you have a nightmare, kisses your owies, rubs your back when you’re puking, digs random dirt-crap out of the open wound in your hand…she’s just sometimes exactly what you need. Thank God for MOM.