You know those moments when you realize that you passed a bit of a fork in the road, and you’re standing on the side of the fork that did not end in greater unpleasantness, and you catch your breath and say a silent prayer of gratitude to the forces of the universe that watch out over you?
Yeah, me too. Four times in three days. Oy.
One of the things I both like and dislike about our property is that we’re on a fairly pronounced hill. I like it because being near the top of the hill, water tends to rush past us rather than, say, pooling in our basement. I dislike it because other things also rush downhill, like out-of-control tricycles hurtling panicking preschoolers toward the road where it meets the end of the driveway at a huge blind spot. We drill Lucas to stay at the top of the driveway, away from the slope, but maybe the long winter erased our dire warnings. He and I both realized he was in trouble at the same time, and though I flung myself off the porch after him, I was way too late and sick with dread when I saw the two ways that his trajectory could end — either with him hurtling across the (thankfully empty) road or in the (rock lined) drainage ditch beside the driveway. It was the latter that swallowed up both Lucas and the trike, and by the time I got to him he was on his back having tipped over the edge, coming to rest with the trike on top of him. Completely unscathed. I think it took more than a day for my heart to resume it’s regular rhythm.
I was making dinner on Friday when my heart stopped for the second time in as many days at the timbre of panic from the big boys’ voices as they called me. The swing portion of our huge wooden playstructure had somehow come loose as the boys swung as high as they could, completely wrenching itself free from the rest of the playstructure and crashing down — onto Lucas. Again, he was badly frightened but relatively unhurt with a bit of a lump on the crown of his head. The swings flung the big boys clear out of the way. And I had two dozen new grey hairs on the crown of my own head overnight.
And then last night, Simon crashed to the ground after scaling a backyard tree to a rather lofty height of seven or eight feet and having a branch give way. He suffered an angry scratch to his leg but not even a tear to his pants, and served up an excellent cautionary tale to his brothers.
Lucky for me, I wasn’t even on call when Tristan took a basketball to the face last week. His teachers had to clean the blood off his face and hands for that one.
Is it too late to trade them in for a gaggle of girls? Surely the teen years with a girl can’t be any harder to stomach than three active, energetic boys on the loose?
It’s a good thing they’re so damn cute. I’m calling for a return to winter, though, because this outdoor play is taking too much of a toll on us!
Girls are no better Dani. My youngest is covered in scrapes from head to toe from bicycle and scooter mishaps last week, while my oldest is bruised head to toe from god knows what games they play in the schoolyard.
Good times!
Yeah, another mom of girls who are just as bloodied and likely to give me a heart attack as their brother. I still haven’t decided whether I want to have witnessed the carnage or need to stay inside until it’s time for the bandage application.
I hope you’ve recovered from the scares soon.
Moms of boys always have these scary stories! Give me a few years when we get to dating and I know I will have some too.
Glad everyone is ok!
Glad to hear all are well with only a few heart palpitations to remember! But it’s not just boys, really. Sarah was one with blood dripping down her leg last week, and I was the one with a face full after a soccer ball caught me right between the eyes. Some of us never outgrow it, LOL!
oops, that was me, after a failed captcha – wish they would use real words!
Careful what you wish for! I would take three boys over a teenage girl anyday.
Take it from me, my teenage girl is probably your three boys rolled into one. The mood swings are something else. Adam was accident prone growing up, but it’s started to get better after he was out of his teen years, lol. I’m glad they are alright, just buy lots of hair dye. That’s what I do!
Egads….I’ll survive three boys, right? Right….
As a female attempting to raise a daughter in a time where gender differences are perceived to be greater than at any time in the last hundred years, comments like “Is it too late to trade them for a gaggle of girls” are beyond discouraging. Kids get into scrapes regardless of gender. A toddler does not need to be a boy to get out of control on a steep hill. Girls are not immune to the results of a swing set in need of repair. Boys don’t have a monopoly on climbing trees. Or falling out. Or bloody noses after a ball to the face. Teenaged boys have hormones too!!!
There are differences of course, but not to the extent that is portrayed in advertising and the media. And the expectations we have about how boys and girls “are” and “should be” are harmful to both boys and girls.
I would strongly recommend reading Pink Brain, Blue Brain or similar.
And I AM glad your boys weren’t seriously injured.
Awww Mary, I hope that the other thousands of posts I’ve written about raising my boys give a little better context on my actual feelings about gender stereotypes than one throwaway line I grasped in lieu of a conclusion.
It’s comments like this that make it harder, rather than easier, for me to find my happy place blogging again. Do I really have to footnote and temporize over every quip?
Making your blog less of a happy place so not my intent.
Sigh. If it helps I believe I would have said the same face to face. Maybe it’s because I feel completely surrounded (and bewildered by how to respond to) the gender stereotyping.
Each comment by itself isn’t a big deal (and heck, I LIKE pink!) but together the volume is wearing me down.
I didn’t mean to make you feel you need caveats but if I could wave a magic wand and get rid of all such comments? I totally would.