Here is this week’s column. We are now on summer schedule at the paper, so my deadlines will be every other week. In other news, today is my birthday! I’m looking forward to a fun day including bowling tonight with my family. We’re all excited. This morning I awoke to find that Paul had gotten cheese grits from my favorite grits dive. What a way to start the day. Love to you and thanks for sharing life with me here on the Internet superhighway.
It is the end of the school year, a time that is generally fraught with a million details and complicated emotions and a pace that will make your head spin.
Every year around this time, I start getting an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Some might assume this feeling has everything to do with the impending summer that will include oppressive Southern heat and high humidity and these five boys. And it’s true there will be challenging moments. In general, however, the summer is a blissful, wonderful time.
The end of the school year is complicated because it stirs up all those feelings that come with the end of something. When I think about the school year ending, I see that my babies are getting bigger. Time is marching and my boys are one step closer to being all grown up. Even if that is really still years away, the end of a school year is proof that time stands still for no one.
Every year, I am aware of this range of emotions – the joy of summer to come, the awareness that it will have its moments, and the simple act of flipping through the calendar and wondering where all the time went.
This year, however, I haven’t had my usual time to fixate. For better or worse, there have been fewer tears cried over growing boys, fewer moments of my stomach in knots. Mostly, I’m thinking constantly about Henry and his cast and how we will get through this moment, the one right now, in keeping him distracted and comfortable and happy.
So far Henry has tolerated his cast very well. It took a full week before he actually tried to get down to play with something on the floor. For the first week, I did not have to wrestle with him or try to keep him still. That was a blessing.
I suppose the better he feels the more he will try to get back to normal, and the doctors say children will figure out how to get where they want and what they want, once they are on the mend.
Despite the heartache and inconvenience, there is something refreshing about this situation. I wouldn’t choose this for anything, mind you, but here it is, forced upon us and so we are embracing this place – the land of body casts and slower paces.
Having a child in a full-body cast is basically my ticket out of everything. Even the stuff I’d rather not get out of is erased from my calendar. I must choose between doing those activities and taking care of my infirmed baby, and the baby trumps everything.
In these last weeks of school, when there is generally an over-abundance of frenzy and emotion, here I sit at home. There are plenty of places I could be going, but I have learned that none of them are quite as important as taking care of Henry. There are field trips and end-of-the-year parties and even Field Day, where I would volunteer for a few hours. And now, it will all go on without me.
As I sit on the couch, Henry somehow snuggled in my lap despite his over sized fiberglass body wrap, there is an odd sense of content. It is impossible to say no, and yet I have done it. All these things I simply must do are somehow getting done while I sit here on this couch with this baby for hours at a time.
What an odd and blessed time. A friend remarked recently that one day, this will be one of those brief memories, “the time baby Henry broke his leg and had that spica cast.” And I realized with a pang she was right – not long from now, this too, will be another memory in our history of the Family Balducci.
Her statement was a good reminder to sit back and settle in a little more and just, somehow, soak up this moment. The world can pass us by, just for a few weeks. It will still be waiting when we get back.
My younger brother had a cast up to his hip when he two. It was also during the summer months. (Which are even more precious to us because we live in Minnesota.) But I just wanted to stop by to say that your friend is absolutely right. My brother is now 22 but during holidays or just random family gatherings someone will often remark, "Hey–remember that summer when Joey had a cast? He was so cute with a cast."
Take a lot of pictures because even if you don't think you'll want to remember this time, trust me, you will want proof that you lived through it.
Praying for your family. Especially little Henry.
Happy Birthday Rachel!
The world will still be waiting when you get back.
I remember when my little sister and I had casts at the same time, from different incidents. She was 3 yrs old and jumped off a bed and broke her leg. I was 13 yrs old and broke my arm in a game of backyard after-school soccer. We have just one picture of the two of us, proudly displaying our "matching" casts.
Now she's 28 and pregnant with her second child while my gardens are pregnant with burgeoning produce.
Life does indeed move quickly. Cherish these quiet, tender moments with your baby, and revel in the many daily joys of having him close (literally!).
Hugs.
And just think of all the toddler mischief that's been averted!
I think I will forever remember little Henry's cast…and the mother that's supported him throughout the whole ordeal. I just have to say, I think you're doing a fabulous job. And you have every excuse to wail every now and then – This is not easy.
So good job, mama. The world does keep spinning no matter what. But what happens with your family in the meantime makes all the difference.
Happy belated, Rach!
Belated Happy Birthday Rachel. I pray for Henry's speedy recovery — in God's time.
Peter