Last week I was so ahead of the game, by midweek, I had already written today’s blog post, which I've now shelved due to recent developments. The best laid plans…
No, instead I’m going to admit to you that even in a family-crisis, I still think of myself and my running. Am I selfish? You tell me. Here’s what happened: Saturday was a brilliantly sunny day here. One trip to the playground wasn’t nearly enough. For the kids or me. So after John’s nap, we piled in the van and headed out. We had a blast, climbing, jumping rope, tree climbing, monkey barring. Several times I literally stepped back to appreciate the moment—being at playground with all three kids, by myself (realtor-Jack was showing a client some houses), and feeling calm and in control of the situation. Silly me—flirting with karma like that. I lost, big time.
We were headed home, steps from the van, when John decides to purposefully fling himself over a low-slung chain, hung to keep cars from driving onto the blacktop. Face-plant! He landed hard on his face, nothing to cushion the blow. Lots of blood, but not as many tears or shrieks as I would have expected from John. I immediately scooped him up and tried to survey the damage. A woman passing by offered help, and immediately pronounced, “oh, he’s broken his nose.”
I hustled the kids home, got Jack and my insurance card (note to self: don’t leave home without them!), got a neighbor to watch Phoebe and Daphne, and headed to the emergency room. (Accident happened just after 5:00 p.m.) I was surprisingly calm (I’m squeamish about blood), and not terribly worried. The bleeding had stopped pretty quickly, and John’s nose didn’t look askew. My big concern was that he had a concussion, but he seemed alert and tracking.
Here’s where I get ego-centric: In the waiting room, while I was cradling my “baby” boy in my arms, my thoughts turned to when I’d be able to eat dinner and what carb-dense leftovers might be lurking in our fridge. See, I had to run 15 miles on Sunday, and I couldn’t go to bed on empty. My mood actually perked up when I remembered a substantial helping of cheese ravioli sitting in a Tupperware container from the night before. Now if only our neighbor didn’t reheat them and serve them to the girls for dinner, I’d be in business….
Jack was a comfort at the hospital, and I told him in gentle, but emphatic terms, that he would be on night-duty if John had any breathing issues or couldn’t sleep. I selfishly had to be fully rested for my long run. Thankfully, we ended up getting home by about 7:15 and John had an easy night (the doc thinks his nose has only a minor fracture).
And, since I know you’ll wonder: I had a very good run on Sunday. I did, however, think a lot about my little trooper, John, as I pounded out the miles.
*photo (above) is from today. And, yes, he's wearing his sisters' jammies and tunic. A current favorite ensemble.*