We're two weeks into summer vacation, which means the collection of toys on top of our kitchen cabinets is growing (every time the boys fight over a toy, I pluck it out of their hands and put it on top of those cabinets, that way they can see it but not actually play with it, my own personal brand of child torture. It must stay up there for a minimum of one month) and every day Adelaide is critiquing my lunch choices ("Mom, you can't just have chips and salsa for lunch," "Mom, popcorn is not an appropriate meal for an adult." This makes me feel like I'm in a Friends episode as I rage, "SO I CAN'T DO ANYTHING I LIKE?").
Summer vacation also means at least one member of the family sustains a new injury every day. I had to buy a new box of band-aids today, and I generally only give those suckers out if there's enough blood to stain the carpet or furniture.
Caedmon has conveniently timed all his incidents to occur right before we head to the library. I can't help but think this is because they do things like gasp dramatically when he walks in and there's blood running down his face (okay, so that time his eyebrow had connected with the corner of a wooden box shortly before we left for the library, and I had staunched the initial flow of blood before we left the house, but then he put a vikings cap on so I didn't even see his face again until he looked up to smile at all his Lovely Library Ladies, and he was smiling, okay, even with all that blood) or give him an enormous band-aid when he's missing a layer of skin from his knee and then carry him around the library when he insists he can't walk (he tripped on the sidewalk on the way to the library, and I wasn't about to turn the circus that is our family around just to clean up one bloody leg- besides, he got loads more sympathy at the library than he ever would have gotten at home).
As for the rest of us, Atticus acquired an impressively skinned knee trying to skateboard, Adelaide has assorted bruises and scrapes from God only knows what, Derek pulled a muscle in his chest, and I am sporting one bruised and bloody toe because I'd forgotten the horrors to be had in taking all three children to the grocery store at the same time- I had already admonished Caedmon not to stack cans on the quarter-holder-thing that's attached to the handle on the carts at Aldi, I turned around to grab some produce and tell A and A to for heaven's sake stop horsin' around, and that this is not a playground and will you please quit scraping the frost off the inside of the freezer cases and eating it, that's disgusting, when I distractedly began to push the cart forward again, causing three stacked cans of Rotel to come crashing down onto my big toe. It was one of those moments where all three finally did stop horsing around and stared at me with big eyes that clearly read "The cooling mechanism twirling above our heads is covered in excrement. Take cover." I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, opened my eyes, looked down at my bloody, bloody foot, wrapped my fingers ever so tightly around Cade's upper arms and quietly told him: "Do not move. Do not speak. Do not breathe." He looked scared, stuck his fingers in his mouth for comfort, and we all limped through the check-out and out of the store.
And it's only the middle of June.