Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Tales of the Thumb.

Last Wednesday morning I made a mental note to myself: I wanted to update the blog with some fun things and pictures of what has happened over the past two weeks. I didn't think much of it throughout the day, until that afternoon.
I was slicing potatoes with a Christmas gift: a new mandolin slicer. We eat a lot of potatoes and so I had thought that it would be nice to add this tool to our kitchen collection. Anyways, I was slicing. Using the finger protector like the rule follower that I am, when suddenly, it happened. There under the slicer was a small tip of my finger. Not just any finger, mind you. My thumb. My left thumb, which basically meant I had injured the most necessary appendage on my body: my dominant hand thumb. I went into silent panic mode, said something swiftly to the boys about being still in front of the television and ran to our bathroom (and thought to myself that I will, yet again, be delayed in recording some of our life).. Drew ended up having to come home early because I was basically no handed, and that doesn't bode well in the taking care of a two year old who is into everything (more on that later).

These past few days have been humbling to say the least. I have had to figure out new ways to put my hair in a pony tail, tie my shoes, eat my food and have had to rely on Drew for dish cleaning. It is insane how much we don't realize how much we need our thumbs until they are rendered useless. I have said many a prayer this week thanking God for my thumbs and for my relatively good health (I'm also enormously grateful for a husband who will take care of me- he's a keeper!). I've also joked with people when they ask about my thumb that God has granted my prayer for a more grateful attitude. Nothing like a good exercise by being at the mercy of others to complete basic daily tasks.

In other somewhat related news, Tyler has hit the pinnacle of what I refer to as the "Curious George" state. This is the state when a new parent freaks because they finally come to the realization that sleepless nights are nothing compared to the all out dilemma of whether you should chose between unknown substances being rapidly poured on your floors or going to the bathroom. It's really quite the conundrum, and as I new parent when Brayden was in this stage, I found myself in mass chaos of panic and confusion. Thankfully now, I just find myself in the midst of being tired and praying that when I go to the bathroom the substance Tyler chooses is an easily cleanable one (ie: water or ice) and preferably of the non-toxic kind. So far, just in the past week, I've documented him getting into:
  • peanut butter (scooped handfuls out while watching Daniel Tiger. It's how he rolls on his PBS kids snack time), 
  • pancake syrup (doesn't a large bowl of sticky goodness sound delectabile? Praise Jesus it was on the hard floors... the hard floors that Connor has now proclaimed as smelling "terrific... just like pancakes!")
  • feeding my flowers animal crackers. Because apparently the floral sucrose that the florist provides is just not enough nutrition for mom's greenery
  • the comet cleaner (bless. My parent locks have been sabotaged and it's time for a new line of defense. Which I am not sure what I should use at this point, as it's clear Tyler can channel the prowess of David Copperfield when it comes to lock and key).
The best thing about a third child is that you finally have the vision to know that this too shall pass. It's incredibly tiring, so I have taken back up the habit of 2 cups of coffee a day to keep up with my back and forths that I am constantly running. I'm finding that sometimes it's necessary to fast from water during wake time hours, so as to minimize bathroom breaks and subsequently minimize sticky substance abuse by my small friend. Having to get up in the middle of the night seems much more pleasant that having to figure out how to clean up massive amounts of pancake syrup from the living room floor. Amen? 

All jokes aside, I feel as though if we can make it through this syrup stage, that we are nearing the sweet spot. All of our boys will be at ages that are considered the tender years. The older two are already in it and, though we have rough days occasionally, for the most part, they are both completely awesome and I am so grateful I get to be their mom. I'll leave this post with a recent short conversation we overheard in the van:

Connor: I know who's a bad guy.... SATAN.
Brayden: Yeah. He's on the Dark Side.

May the force be with you..... :)


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