Sunday, September 04, 2016

MOPs? Where did it all go wrong?

For those readers with teenagers, first of all, my sympathies. Remember the good old days? When the kids were little and we were MoPs? Mothers of Preschoolers? There was a mom's group with that name that I always meant to join, but chasing after preschoolers is very time consuming. Then you blink and they are starting high school.

That adorable little boy who would hold my hand to cross the street and would run to me when he got hurt so I could make it all better is now in high school. How did that happen?

What's worse, I seem to have lost that deep connection we once shared. We went everywhere together. Did everything together. Mommy and her little buddy. He helped me shop (he just loved to grab things and put them in the cart. We totally needed 12 cucumbers and a jumbo pack of adult diapers!) He helped me unfold laundry. He helped me mess up the house. We watched hours of Bob the Builder, Maisy Mouse, and Little People. Over and over and over. Oh and Caillou. Gosh how he loved Caillou.

He got a wee bit older, but it was still the two of us. Now we loved Ninja Turtles and Pokemon! And any video game with Mario in the title. We'd network our Gameboys together and play mini-games and Mario Party for hours.

Even when the baby brother arrived, everything was great. The baby watched while we played. We looked forward to a time when he'd be able to play with us. It was going to be GREAT!

Then came the accident. The driveway was a sheet of ice...but it was February 14th and I would risk death rather than have my little man miss his big class party and exchanging all those Valentines we'd stayed up late to finish. I'd just strapped the boys into their car seats when my legs just went flying out from under me. I impacted the ledge of the minivan with my ribs, my head hit the car seat and my knees came crashing down onto the ice. I'd never felt pain that bad in my life. I blacked out, but not for long, I think. I came back to my senses and heard Tyler calling "Mommy? Mommy?!" and was able to get him to grab an extra blanket from between the car seats to put over Max. It was below freezing out and the sliding door on the van was wide open on the baby's side. I was on the ground, unable to move.

My brain raced from one scenario to the next. My husband was out of town. No way I could call him for help. I called him anyway, after Tyler was able to get my phone out of my purse. The daddy was in a meeting and I was barely able to talk, the pain was so bad. I couldn't convey the seriousness of the situation and he was impatient with me. I hung up. I could call my mother in law, but she was over 30 minutes away and who knew how long it would take her to get ready and get out the door. It was 7:45 in the morning! Neighbors? I wasn't thinking clearly enough to remember anyone's names, never mind phone numbers.

911? I probably needed to go to the hospital, but...what would happen to my babies? I knew they wouldn't leave them sitting alone in the driveway in a freezing cold vehicle. Would they be allowed in the ambulance? Probably not. The police or someone would probably take them away somewhere. The thought of how scared they would be by seeing me carted off in an ambulance and then put into the care of strangers just horrified me. I had to get up! I had to get off the ice!

I couldn't put any pressure on my knees. I just knew something was fractured. Same with my ribs. I grabbed what ever I could with my hands/arms and tried to drag myself upright, but the ice was too slick. 40 minutes I lay on the ice, struggling. It amazes me that no one saw me there or came to help. Finally, my cell began to ring. It was the school nurse looking for Tyler. I told her what had happened. She offered to drive over to the house and help! She also offered to call paramedics. I told her I was trying to get up but I would call her if I needed help, but that I didn't think we'd make it to school that day. I think I had a head injury too (AGAIN) so that could account for the epic levels of stupid mixed with my introverted "good god no, I don't want all those strangers showing up at my house" tendencies.

I did finally manage to get to my feet, free the boys from their car seats, and Tyler helped Max across the ice and into the house. I was moving very slowly and limping badly. The pain had me seeing large black spots in my vision. If I fell again on the way back into the house...well, we won't go there. Things were already bad enough.

The next two days are a blur until John got home from his trip. I honestly don't know how I managed. I could barely walk or move. I couldn't sleep, the pain was so bad. He pressed me to go see a doctor. The thought of trying to get back down those stairs, into a car, drive 30 minutes, and then walk across a lot all the way to my doctor's office...it was too much. Of course, my regular doctor wasn't available. The guy who saw me took a poke at my knees and ribs, saw the massive bruising and said "You need to go straight to the ER. There's nothing I can do for you here. You need x-rays!" He did give me some pain meds. But I just couldn't bear the thought of getting back to the car, going to the hospital and sitting around the ER for gosh knows how long. I was ready to drop dead as it was.

I just cried and cried. I wanted to get back home, take pain pills and finally get some sleep. So that's what we did. Stupid again.  2 years before I could put any pressure on my knees. Every cough/cold and I was separating a rib. They never healed properly. I ended up with a cane, then a walker. I couldn't do much of anything after that.

I keep coming back to that time. Was that when I lost my boy? Mommy couldn't keep up any more? Mommy wasn't as much fun? Mommy couldn't do as much around the house, so Daddy had to take up the slack which made Daddy cranky... He knew I fell and hurt myself. But I don't think he could process just how broken I was.  And the poor baby. He wasn't even 2 yet. He never got to have the Mommy who could get down on the floor and play. Who could sit in circle time at Gymboree and play. Who could play at the park, rather than just barely make it to the bench. Who could walk around the lake and skip stones into the water. The fun Mommy. The active Mommy.

Really. Who wants a broken Mommy?

He's just so angry with me all the time now. I know. Teenagers can be difficult. They can say things that are like a knife to the heart. We would argue. Debate endlessly. He'd say things he knew I would find offensive, horrifying and awful. He blames me for everything wrong in his life. Everything.

Today he tells me I am the only one he can't stand. The one person on the planet he acts this way with. He wants to hurt me. He won't listen to me any more. He says everything I say is a lie.

I just want him to stop picking on and hurting his brother. I ask nicely, at first. I say please (at his request.) He ignores me. He doesn't speak to me. I keep hoping I can get through to him. Remind him of what we had. We were so close. I am on his side. In his corner. Always advocating for him. Wanting the best for him. Wanting him to be happy and healthy.

He hates me. And I don't know what to do anymore.

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