Friday, April 16, 2010

Eli has just figured out that something happened to me. He informed my dad a few days ago that “mommy has a wittle bwuis” Today he asked why I had an owie and I told him I’d been hit by a car and that’s why he should always be very careful of the road. “did you cwoss the stweet without daddy or jomama or joyc?” he wanted to know. My reply that yes indeed at 41 I often cross streets solo prompted “that’s pwobaly not a good idea….” Other than today’s little discourse he seems relatively unbothered by the whole thing. He’s always been enough of a third child that as long as someone meets his needs he’s ok. Shortly after he learned to talk he endeared himself to our friends by screaming for them in the crib. It always started with Mommy and Daddy and when that didn’t work he tried some babysitter names and when those failed he moved through my running ladies “GWWWWACE, LAWWWWWI, WIZZZZZZ, ANNA….”

Rebecca and Jonathan seem slightly more disturbed. Their concerns don’t involved the metaphysical of the mommy could have died sort. It’s more that they always see me in motion and I’ve been very stagnant this week. Rebecca has made dozens of get well cards from elaborate clay structures to tiny illegible notes on sticky papers. She is also somewhat embarrassed about the whole thing; she often despite a diva personality does not like to call attention to herself. She did compose an alternative ending to “Fanfare” in order to commemorate my recovery. She doesn’t care for V-I cadences…. Jonathan informed me on Tuesday that he was in mourning. I told him that really I wasn’t dead so he didn’t have to go there. “I’m in mourning for your injury mommy and I’m not going to shave for a week.” From what we know about Jonathan’s various growth delays he’ll be lucky if he needs to shave before he’s 25. This somehow segued into a discussion of fate and the fates in which he explained that he didn’t believe in the fates because if thousands of children die each year from Maleria the fates would have to talk to a lot of mosquitos to make that happen. I was too drugged up on Vicodin to go into all of the problems with his belief structure drawn from books about mythology, kids national geographic, and Jewish Sunday School. (I did write it down so while much of this week remains pretty fuzzy for me he really did say this)

I’ve been touched and amazed by the support we’ve had this week and all this for a situation when I’m basically fine. But lest anyone think it’s all peaches and cream, my husband who has been waiting on my hand and foot, has taken to calling it a blind squirrel act—he thinks I dart around too much. He also put a sign on my phone saying “Turn OFF while crossing street” One of my friends said she’s spent the three years we’ve lived here trying to catch me running and is pleased to be faster. At least 8 people have asked me to share my narcotic pain killers with them. Should any remain I’ll be auctioning them off at next year’s preschool fundraiser. My best friend from grad school who I shared some low moment pictures with suggested that in fact the metaphor of looking like you’ve been hit by a truck worked for me on Tuesday. Another friend echoing Gary Snyder suggested that the chance to be in bed will put me in touch with primal forces of universe. You fell down a woman and will get back up a tree. Another said that she always knew I was an adventure seeker but is “very glad that you decided only to take a very short ride on the hood of that SUV.... PHew! (what was steph talking about anyway that was so all-absorbing!?!)”

For the final indignity when my purple bag flew off my shoulder in the impact my favorite MAC lipstick—the fix all problems one—was ruined. The good thing about this is that it prompted me to check out the epipen and inhaler I keep in my purse and both shattered. My inhaler services me, Rebecca and a number of asthmatic children in Charlottesville whose parents don’t keep extras lying around so we all need a good one! (all of those parents were kind enough to point out that those who dart in front of moving SUV’s talking on phones against a walk sign ought not to point their fingers at those who do not have back up inhalers……”)

1 comment:

  1. I think that the after pictures might have looked like you had just gone through a hard childbirth, instead of 'being hit by a truck,' but there was no little bundle of joy to show for it, only a sad purseful of day-saving cosmetics and life-saving drugs. And I'm very glad you checked the epipen and inhaler! One less thing for the mother hens to fret over. :)