Oops — life has clearly been getting in the way of blogging.
Haven’t had a chance to report the good news, wherein the orthopedic doctor reported that Alli’s break was not a major one and that she would only likely need to wear a cast for 3 weeks. I thought Alli was going to give the guy an actual kiss, she was so ecstatic. While sitting out of some activities has been hard and brought a few tears, I think she’s been not so secretly enjoying her special status, being allowed to use the computer to write at school, and having to hunt down space to fit more signatures on the cast. Andrew and I are both more than a little surprised at the lack of whining and frustration with an itchy or claustrophobically unaccessible arm. My only lingering parental trepidation is how freaked out she’s going to be with whatever cutting machine or device they have to use to get the cast off. Fifty bucks says that generates a bigger reaction than the actual broken wrist.
At any rate, here we are nearing the endpoint (visit anticipated to produce cast removal is this coming Wednesday), and it seems like only days have passed. Alli is running around like some form of crazed superhero, making us tread new ground as we do a complete 180 from our traditional role in encouraging her to embrace risk. This parenting thing, it sure requires one to be nimble.
All in all, we couldn’t have asked for a better first broken bone experience.
So the short version to accompany the previous post is that Alli broke her wrist falling from the rings on the playground at school. There’s a slightly longer version that involves Mommy deciding whether or not to become “one of those parents” who makes a fuss about having more adult oversight and enforcement of safer playground rules as well as a harder stance on “bullying” (or maybe “pre-bullying” as it applies to first-graders), but I’m going to save that until after I’ve processed it a bit more and gotten past the protective “my kid got hurt” phase.
Alli is handling this whole thing so much better than either Andrew or I would have ever predicted. I feel in many ways so warmed by her sense of confidence in herself and her resilience, and it makes many years of trying to shepherd her through and out of a very alternate universe (one in which she would break down at the prospect of being touched by a fly, literally) feel so worthwhile. In many ways, I think Andrew and I are now having to find our resilience as parents, and expand our vision and expectations of our own child to meet hers. I also think that maybe having an actual reasonably serious injury has made her realize that it wasn’t nearly as bad as she had envisioned, and she’s now running around a bit like a superhero, flaunting her sling as a sort of badge of honor. I swear, something about her even LOOKS tougher.
Today was the 2nd annual “Blessing of the Animals” at the Unitarian church. Last year having been Roo’s turn, this year Alli carted both Max and Ziggy (the latter of which is most clearly in need of blessing at this stage of the game) with great enthusiasm and pride.
Nothing beats watching a girl in a sling push a cat stroller that has serious steering limitations with her one good arm, crashing into things left and right because it’s more important that she not accept anyone’s offers of help.
Inside the sanctuary, this scene by the chalice cracked me up:
Although not as much as this picture from a neighbor. After catching up with them on the lawn with the cats and Alli’s slinged self, we heard about their gerbil who had broken its front leg and actually gotten a cast. The best pic ever award goes to: