I've suddenly found myself at an interesting "phase" of life. I'm now that mom who looks at her friends with young babies and I feel everything. EVERYTHING.
All.
The.
Things.
Like, when did I suddenly become the "old" mom of the group?
And, where did my babies go?
And, how on earth do I have a 21 year old?! TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD, PEOPLE! How can that be when I feel like I'm only 26?!
Surely someone is playing tricks on me.
But then, something happens and I smacked upside the head with the reality that yes, indeed, I am that "old" mom. For example, my middle child broke his hand a couple of weeks ago. Broke a bone in his hand clear through...no teeny little fracture or anything, but a bonafide break.
Once upon a time I would've been sick with worry. Probably teary eyed and weepy over the whole thing. I would've made him a bed on the couch and he would've gotten gifts to wish him well and I probably would've written a blog post about whilst he was getting his cast. But this time? Now that I'm an old seasoned mom?
Well, this time I waited it out through the whole gosh dang weekend. He broke it on a Friday evening at a birthday party but was insistent in his plea of "Don't pick me up mom, okay? DON'T PICK ME UP!" Poor kid didn't want to miss a moment of the party and I figured it couldn't have been that bad if he was unwilling to leave a birthday party. (Okay, fine, I may have said, "Well I'm not going to take you to the ER right now anyway!"...but still.)
When I saw his hand the next day, I knew it needed to be looked at, but I'll be a son of a gun if I was gonna take him to the ER, my nurse brain was telling me "well, they'd want the swelling to go down anyway", but just to make sure I wasn't doing him any harm, I asked a doctor friend of mine her take on us waiting until Monday to be seen and I got her approval.
So, Monday rolls around and long story short, sure as heck, the dang thing is broken. And we all (the nurse and PA) got a good chuckle about "nurse mom's" and their poor kids. No rookie tears here, just veteran laughs at the whole ordeal.
For the record, the PA said I made the right call about avoiding the ER...she said they would've splinted him and told us to follow up with Ortho on Monday. I just saved us that step! Yahoo!
In any event, I realized, as I was signing my son's cast (which, he is very proud of, as you can see in the above picture), what a stark contrast my response was to what it would've been several years ago.
Yup, I'm that old mom.
Guess it's time to embrace it.
All.
The.
Things.
Like, when did I suddenly become the "old" mom of the group?
And, where did my babies go?
And, how on earth do I have a 21 year old?! TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD, PEOPLE! How can that be when I feel like I'm only 26?!
Surely someone is playing tricks on me.
But then, something happens and I smacked upside the head with the reality that yes, indeed, I am that "old" mom. For example, my middle child broke his hand a couple of weeks ago. Broke a bone in his hand clear through...no teeny little fracture or anything, but a bonafide break.
Once upon a time I would've been sick with worry. Probably teary eyed and weepy over the whole thing. I would've made him a bed on the couch and he would've gotten gifts to wish him well and I probably would've written a blog post about whilst he was getting his cast. But this time? Now that I'm an old seasoned mom?
Well, this time I waited it out through the whole gosh dang weekend. He broke it on a Friday evening at a birthday party but was insistent in his plea of "Don't pick me up mom, okay? DON'T PICK ME UP!" Poor kid didn't want to miss a moment of the party and I figured it couldn't have been that bad if he was unwilling to leave a birthday party. (Okay, fine, I may have said, "Well I'm not going to take you to the ER right now anyway!"...but still.)
When I saw his hand the next day, I knew it needed to be looked at, but I'll be a son of a gun if I was gonna take him to the ER, my nurse brain was telling me "well, they'd want the swelling to go down anyway", but just to make sure I wasn't doing him any harm, I asked a doctor friend of mine her take on us waiting until Monday to be seen and I got her approval.
So, Monday rolls around and long story short, sure as heck, the dang thing is broken. And we all (the nurse and PA) got a good chuckle about "nurse mom's" and their poor kids. No rookie tears here, just veteran laughs at the whole ordeal.
For the record, the PA said I made the right call about avoiding the ER...she said they would've splinted him and told us to follow up with Ortho on Monday. I just saved us that step! Yahoo!
In any event, I realized, as I was signing my son's cast (which, he is very proud of, as you can see in the above picture), what a stark contrast my response was to what it would've been several years ago.
Yup, I'm that old mom.
Guess it's time to embrace it.
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