A Merry Broken Christmas

If you’ve been following along on Twitter, you know that these past 2 weeks have been pretty, well, challenging. My sweet little full-of-energy two year old broke his leg at the trampoline park. And not just any break, but a spiral fracture of his femur. When the ER doctor put the x-ray up, I gasped, that’s how clear it was. And the only way to immobilize a broken femur in a toddler is to put him in a spica cast. If you, like me, hadΒ no idea what a spica cast is, behold

screen-shot-2016-12-24-at-11-27-14-am

Yup, that’s chest down, both legs, with a bar in the middle. And he had to go under anesthesia to have it put on. And stay the night in the hospital. It was a pretty insane weekend, and it only got a little easier once we got home.

For the past two weeks, my husband and I have basically been on parenting duty 24/7. He sleeps in the guest bed, and one of us has to sleep with him to make sure he doesn’t try to fling himself out. He also wakes frequently when he wants to turn over and needs to be soothed back to sleep. He also needs to be entertained from his toddler bed stationed in the living room, because of course a two year old isn’t meant to be immobilized on his back for 4 minutes, much less 4 weeks. It’s exhausting and frustrating and very, very sad.

Not to mention that it means Christmas is basically cancelled at our house. We were planning to go to my mom’s house to celebrate, but obviously we can’t make the 5 hour drive. We don’t have the energy to cook any kind of Christmas dinner (though I did manage to sneak in a batch of peanut blossoms last night, because dammit if I can go without my favorite Christmas cookie). Oh, and to cap off the Christmas is Cursed 2k16fest, while in the hospital with Freddie we forgot to water our tree. It died, of course, and now we have to take it down probably tomorrow before it engulfs us all in a happy holiday inferno.

I know it could all be worse*, but it still blows pretty hard. The good news is we found out on Wednesday that we’re getting the cast off a couple days early. January 4th is liberation day, and oh what a sweet day it’ll be! I can’t wait to see my sweet little guy running and dancing again. I can’t wait to get back to our normal lives.

I can’t wait to never EVER go to a trampoline park again.

*Pro tip: the only person who is allowed to say “it could be worse,” is the person going through the thing. You should never EVER say it to a person who is knee-deep in their own shit.

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