I am pretty confident that we all have things that we want to do better than our own mothers did. I, for one, have a great mom. I don't know that I realized it during my childhood but as I grow older I am starting to understand that my parents were pretty amazing.
That being said, I do have to say there is one thing that I hope to do differently than my mom.
And it all has to do with this picture.
If I were tricky I would do a little text art on there with an arrow pointing right to it. My nose. Not my entire nose, just the part where there is a giant bump in it.
You know you've noticed it. You probably thought it was just hereditary or something. Would you believe that my parents and ancestors all have perfectly normal, bumpless, quite lovely noses?
That giant bump in the middle of my nose is the result of a broken nose left to heal all by itself.
I remember the day clearly. We were across the street playing basketball. I was looking down, probably watching the potato bugs or something, someone bounced the ball right underneath my face and it slammed up into my nose.
The details are a bit foggy after that. All I know is that at some point in high school (a decade later) I noticed I had a weird looking nose, then looked back through school pictures and finally pegged that my nose must have gotten broken during that basketball incident. Awesome. Seriously, I had a decent looking nose until the unfortunate events of early 1989.
I thought it couldn't be so! I mean, surely my mother would have noticed if I had broken my nose, right? Right? Broken bones don't go unnoticed...
And then a couple months after my startling discovery I was trying on roller blades at the store. I stood up and slipped backwards and landed on my hand hard.
[Okay, so as to not sound like a totally lame and uncoordinated idiot, I have to say that the reason I was trying on new roller blades was because the day before I had been playing roller hockey; my friends (ie Blaine & Co) had the bright idea to hold on to the back of a car while others drove wildly across the parking lot. So, not to be outdone by my male companions I held on to the bumper. The driver said something to the effect of "be sure to let go if I gotoo fast" but I heard "Don't let go EVER." I thought it was a little weird, and a bit wimpy, when Blaine and the other boys let go of the bumper. I was excited at the chance to prove that I was the coolest girl ever and could hang on to the bumper forever. That vision qiuckly faded when my rollerblades broke right off of my feet and I went crashing down on the asphalt. Amazingly I was unharmed, except for the fact that I needed new rollerblades. So can we please just agree that while I may not be the smartest cookie on the block, I am at least coordinated enough to play rollerhockey and not fall down, even though I apparently cannot try on rollerblades at the store without great personal injury. I still have insecurities about how I hurt my hand, can ya tell?]
Okay, on with the story...
I had landed hard on my hand. I whined about it all the way home. My mom inspected the injury once we were at home and declared that I was fine. It wasn't swollen at all. No need to go to the doctor, just sleep it off and for heaven's sake quit whining.
The next day I woke up with a hand about twenty times its original size. Mom felt real bad. My hand was totally broken and she made me tough it out for a day and a night.
As I was getting my hand casted I realized the irony of the situation and all of the sudden it seemed more than likely that she hadn't noticed the broken nose nearly a decade before. My fears were confirmed. I had broken my nose and no one had noticed.
So what does this have to do with my parenting style now?
Well, Bentley fell down the stairs two days ago. Actually, if we're going to be technical about it, he fell down the stairs TWICE.
The first was the most brutal. My parents have killer stairs with a sharp curve in them. I helped Bentley down the scary part and then put him down to do the rest by himself while I helped Gwen.
*Thump, thump, thump, waillllllll.....*
He fell down the last four steps. I picked him up and noticed the blood gushing out of both of his nostrils, and his mouth.
After several moments I drifted back into consciousness and cleaned off the blood and got him settled down. He seemed okay. I mean...it was gross and all but he was happy again.
Then I put him down for a nap.
When he woke up his nose was three times its original size and turning a reddish purple color.
Then at dinner at my sisters house he fell down another set of three stairs and landed plop on his nose.
Would it be possible for us to come to Utah, like one time even, without going to the emergency room? Seriously.
Except for that I didn't actually take him to the emergency room. It's still swollen but I think it's fine. I mean, I touch it occasionally and he doesn't freak out, that means it's okay, right?
Is he doomed to have the cursed bump in his nose? I would hate that! Except for at least it actually would be hereditary if he had it. He would have my nose. My totally awesome, crooked, confidence inspiring, bump-in-the-middle nose.
We all become our mothers don't we?
Um, but seriously, does anyone know anything about broken noses? Should I take him in?