Thursday, June 16, 2016

The One Armed Boy Is Turning Four!

Alex is turning four in less than a week!  He will accomplish this task with the use of only one arm and hand as he has broken his left elbow and will need to spend the first half of the summer in a heavy blue cast.

Of course it's Alex who is the first to break a bone.  This is the kid who is perpetually covered in bumps, scabs, and band-aids, the only one to ever be rushed to the ER due to a bleeding head wound, and the only one to ever undergo surgery (granted, the anal fistula wasn't really his fault- or was it?). It is Alex, the one Chris and I are constantly telling to "Stop bumbling around!"  He is so clumsy, so stupidly fearless, so full of tangible mischief that manifests into injury and/or broken items.

I hate that I have issued a warning to these boys for the past three years that has now come true.  "Stop fooling around because if you break your arm you'll have the worst summer ever!  No swimming, no bike riding, no JOY."  And now we are living that prophecy, and I fear part of it might be my own self-fulfilling fault.

Actually, no.  It's Alex's fault.  How did he break his arm you ask?  Let me relay this conversation that he had with a girl at Andy's baseball game.

Ava:  How did you break your arm?

Alex:  Well, I did a super jump off a chair and I fell and I broke my arm.

Ava:  That's what happened to my grandma!

Alex:  Your grandma did a super jump?

Ava:  No, she didn't do the super jump.  But she fell and broke her arm.

No more super jumps are allowed in this house, ever.  Of course, Chris and I weren't around for the super jump, and I have the firm belief that the idiotic exuberance that went into this showy super jump would not have occurred had the baby-sitter not been here.  The boys were excited that she was here, showing off for her while Chris and I were away and- whoops.  Broken elbow.

Chris had to take Alex to the ER (along with Andy and Emily) when he got home from work.  I was at my own part-part-part time job, and when Chris finally called me (after an admittedly long stretch of hemming and hawing and packing the diaper bag and figuring out the car seat situation in his car that does not actually accommodate all of our children and then waiting out a freight train on the way to the ER), there was calm resignation to his voice.  Still, it was not a good call to get at work.  "We are on our way to the emergency room."  Ugh.

Is it wrong that my first reaction to the news was undeniably anger?  God dammit, Alex.  If you guys weren't constantly screwing around, this would never have happened.  What the hell is wrong with you?  You are not allowed to jump off of furniture!  You have ruined the summer.  Why aren't you capable of just SITTING STILL?

That reaction softened considerably when I finally got home and looked down at the face of my youngest son, which was so defeated and miserable.  It was the saddest I had ever seen Alex.  He was in pain and he understood the horrible consequences.  I never want to see that look again.  Alex is usually so full of happiness and laughter- it killed me a little to see him so downtrodden and sorrowful.

Chris seems to think that Alex, upon hearing the doctor pronounce his arm broken, truly believed that he was being told his arm was permanently broken- that it would never work again.  That it was like that remote control car that I tossed into the trash after deeming it beyond repair.  Yep, this is your arm.  It's broken now.  We're tripling up on your screen time since that's basically all you can do now, for the rest of your life.

I have, actually, underestimated how little Alex can do beyond the basic fun, playing stuff.  The other night, I handed him a fun size Snickers bar for dessert and walked away.  After about three minutes of silence, he finally whimpered, "Mommy?  Can you unwrap my candy bar?"  Oops.  Yeah, sure can.  I have two working hands, let me do that for you.  Yesterday, he wanted to work on an art project.  I watched him drag out some paper one-handed and then try to shake the glue stick hard enough to pop off the cap.  Oh, Alex.  Let me help.  Or turn on the TV.  Your choice.

He can't dress himself, use the bathroom alone, and do any number of other tasks.  Bathing is another issue.  After triple bagging his arm, rubber banding the top, and screaming at him not to pour water on it, I've come to the conclusion that Alex is simply getting wiped with a wet wash cloth for the next three to four weeks.  I'm not about to deal with what to do if his cast gets wet.  The doctor told me I can try to dry it with a blow-dryer should he get water in it, but I am certainly not qualified to be reshaping a cast on my own.  Just check out the shoddily patched walls in my bathroom.  I am not a DIYer.

Oh, Alex.  I am sorry that you are in a cast as you approach your fourth birthday.  I am sorry that your birthday present is Batman legos that you will not really be able to play with.  But I want you to know how much I love you, how much you make me smile and laugh, how incredibly unique and lovable you are.  Sure, you infuriate me.  Let's just get that out there.  Sure, I wanted to shake you when I heard about the super jump.  But Alex, you are an amazing kid, and you're so very special. But if I ever see you gear up to do another super jump- we're going to have a problem.

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