One Part Cute, Ten Parts Mama Heartache

Yesterday morning, I looked at Bowie’s feet and his right foot and ankle were so swollen, they looked like they would pop! After a panic (you know, my usual response) and a trip to the doctor, he looked like this:

Looks sorta cute, but oh my poor little baby boooooooy.

Instructions were to ice it and to keep him off of it. Ever try to keep a 2 year old off his feet? No easy task. Lots of viewings of Wall-E were involved. Good news is, he’s healing up fast, about half the swelling today from yesterday.

Bumps and Bruises

Lately Bowie is covered with bumps, bruises, scratches and cuts. And every single one makes me feel so guilty! Like I had something to do with it. I have to start to accept that he’s his own little person and stuff will happen to him and he will (most likely) heal back up and be fine.

But, if he’s this rough and tumble now, what’s to become of him when he’s a bigger boy, trying newer and scarier things? I recall my brother having stitches 3 times before he turned 8. If he had been the first child and not the third, I’m sure my mother would be in a padded cell to this day.

I have a friend with a child a few years older than Bowie who recently fell at the park, hit his forehead on a cement embankment and cut it open to the tune of 100 stitches. The grisly pictures were of course posted to Facebook, and it has me a bit worried about how I would react to a situation like that with Bowie.

I’m sure I’d faint at the site of the blood. Then, when I came to, I’d more than likely vomit at the site of the blood. Then, I would freak out for a few minutes, just running around yelling, “OH MY GOOD GOD!” before finally having the wherewithal to dial 911.

And may the good lord help me if he decides to become a rodeo cowboy or a BMX racer or a crocodile hunter or a sword swallower or something. That would put me in my own padded cell for sure.