Let me first start with, everyone is okay. I think it is important to start with the positive and to sugar coat the negative as you casually slip it into the conversation. My husband does the opposite. Example? The doctor was only going to call me if he found something wrong on my MRI. I had actually forgotten about it and a few days later, while talking to my husband he casually mentions, "Oh--I forgot to tell you to call your doctor back about your MRI." Huh? "When did he call?" "The nurse called yesterday or the day before..." "Oh. Well--I guess I should call..." Silence...at least on the line. It was anything but quiet in my head. "Oh--she said it was nothing to worry about--the MRI is fine--she just wants to talk with you about it." "REALLY?! You couldn't lead with THAT?!" I have had far too many of these episodes in the last thirteen years, so I almost always try to lead with the part of the story that the mind of a human would naturally go to. Like, "Is everyone okay?" and in this case, everyone IS okay.
It seems that I will go to unbelievable extremes to get out of going to the gym. Tuesdays and Thursdays I take a strength and toning class (sorry--I laugh every time I say that because those two things (strength and toning) have not been a part of this body for years. Anyway, after my class, I meet my friend Beth and we walk 2.2 miles together while experiencing our version of therapy. Unfortunately, this morning (which was measuring up to be a great one I have to say) I crashed the car. Not the falling apart minivan that has no door handle--and collision insurance--the Navigator which was in GREAT shape and was without collision insurance. Yeah, that kind of bites, but at least everyone was okay. At least as far as we can tell.
My son is complaining of hearing the crash every time he tries to turn his brain off or when he's not watching TV. I feel awful that I caused my child to have PTSD symptoms at the age of eight. I feel awful that my three babies were screaming in terror as my car spun around and I could do nothing to stop it. I feel awful because I am supposed to keep them safe. I feel awful because my son was not in his booster seat--my husband and I traded vehicles this morning (thank GOD--if we had been in the minivan, we would all be dead) and we have three car seats in the van, but only two in the truck. Brayden is tall enough and is over eight, but he weighs only seventy pounds. Dave always laughs about the fact that the kids need to weigh eighty pounds to get out of the booster. He says that he would have gone to the prom in a booster seat if that law had been in place--he didn't break a hundred until college. I'm pretty sure that the same logic would hold true for MANY girls in my high school--and probably a few moms out there now! LUCKILY, I never had that problem!
The seat belt did its job and my Brayden was fine, but I can't help but think about how bad it COULD have been and am sick over the fact that I drove without him in the booster. To turn around and see the nightmare in my children's faces as our smashed-up vehicle lay smoking in the middle of the intersection and they sat in their seats, screaming for me and crying in fear will never leave me. I'm not saying that I will hold onto this and never heal from it--that would be stupid. My children need a mother--not a zombie who is afraid to live because of an accident. Like Brayden, however, I can't stop my brain from zooming in on their sweet voices and frantic cries. I know that people suffer through much worse than a car accident that did nothing but destroy a few cars and a family's sense of security. I know that people fight for their lives--their children's lives--and remain strong every single day. My job is to keep them safe and to help them to feel secure. That is what motivates me to be asmean strict parental as I am. What happened today REALLY did not help in my quest for parental sanity.
The BEST part of today was when my son offered, "You can have my twenty-five dollars to get a new car, Mom--I don't need DS games" when my Ryan said (as my husband drove us to her softball game and passed the corner where we crashed nine hours prior), "It's a good thing we didn't crash AGAIN!" and Addison added, "Pwease don't cryash again--we didn't like dat, did we Mommy?" No, we didn't. Not even slightly. I'll tell you what I DO like, however. My family. My sweet babies--the same three babies I whine and complain about on a regular basis who (when it comes right down to it) are three amazing little people. They are brave and strong and amazing and THEY help ME to keep it together when I feel like falling to pieces. Will I still complain about them? Pshaaaaaah! Of COURSE I will--it's what I do. But I need it to be known that as much as they may make me crazy, it's mostly because they are trying to mess with my plan to keep them (and others) safe and in tact, not because I don't think that they are three of the most kind-hearted, polite, brilliant, and beautiful babes to ever walk the earth. THAT my friends goes without saying.
It seems that I will go to unbelievable extremes to get out of going to the gym. Tuesdays and Thursdays I take a strength and toning class (sorry--I laugh every time I say that because those two things (strength and toning) have not been a part of this body for years. Anyway, after my class, I meet my friend Beth and we walk 2.2 miles together while experiencing our version of therapy. Unfortunately, this morning (which was measuring up to be a great one I have to say) I crashed the car. Not the falling apart minivan that has no door handle--and collision insurance--the Navigator which was in GREAT shape and was without collision insurance. Yeah, that kind of bites, but at least everyone was okay. At least as far as we can tell.
My son is complaining of hearing the crash every time he tries to turn his brain off or when he's not watching TV. I feel awful that I caused my child to have PTSD symptoms at the age of eight. I feel awful that my three babies were screaming in terror as my car spun around and I could do nothing to stop it. I feel awful because I am supposed to keep them safe. I feel awful because my son was not in his booster seat--my husband and I traded vehicles this morning (thank GOD--if we had been in the minivan, we would all be dead) and we have three car seats in the van, but only two in the truck. Brayden is tall enough and is over eight, but he weighs only seventy pounds. Dave always laughs about the fact that the kids need to weigh eighty pounds to get out of the booster. He says that he would have gone to the prom in a booster seat if that law had been in place--he didn't break a hundred until college. I'm pretty sure that the same logic would hold true for MANY girls in my high school--and probably a few moms out there now! LUCKILY, I never had that problem!
The seat belt did its job and my Brayden was fine, but I can't help but think about how bad it COULD have been and am sick over the fact that I drove without him in the booster. To turn around and see the nightmare in my children's faces as our smashed-up vehicle lay smoking in the middle of the intersection and they sat in their seats, screaming for me and crying in fear will never leave me. I'm not saying that I will hold onto this and never heal from it--that would be stupid. My children need a mother--not a zombie who is afraid to live because of an accident. Like Brayden, however, I can't stop my brain from zooming in on their sweet voices and frantic cries. I know that people suffer through much worse than a car accident that did nothing but destroy a few cars and a family's sense of security. I know that people fight for their lives--their children's lives--and remain strong every single day. My job is to keep them safe and to help them to feel secure. That is what motivates me to be as
The BEST part of today was when my son offered, "You can have my twenty-five dollars to get a new car, Mom--I don't need DS games" when my Ryan said (as my husband drove us to her softball game and passed the corner where we crashed nine hours prior), "It's a good thing we didn't crash AGAIN!" and Addison added, "Pwease don't cryash again--we didn't like dat, did we Mommy?" No, we didn't. Not even slightly. I'll tell you what I DO like, however. My family. My sweet babies--the same three babies I whine and complain about on a regular basis who (when it comes right down to it) are three amazing little people. They are brave and strong and amazing and THEY help ME to keep it together when I feel like falling to pieces. Will I still complain about them? Pshaaaaaah! Of COURSE I will--it's what I do. But I need it to be known that as much as they may make me crazy, it's mostly because they are trying to mess with my plan to keep them (and others) safe and in tact, not because I don't think that they are three of the most kind-hearted, polite, brilliant, and beautiful babes to ever walk the earth. THAT my friends goes without saying.
