Yes, I am complaining. My neck is killing me, thanks to my extremely strong-willed toddler. I initially hurt my neck in December… it sucked, but compared to how I feel now, the pain was more of an aggravating nuisance. I was trying to get Nathan into his car seat and he bucked up and threw one of his mega tantrums, hurting my neck and back in the process. I tried to wait it out, but ended up going to the doctor in the beginning of January. He told me I had a pinched nerve and prescribed an NSAID (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory). I didn’t take it at that point because the pain was waning, so I saved it in case it flared up again.

Then a couple weeks ago, I reinjured my neck. I was trying to get Nathan into his high chair (due to having a teeny tiny house, we need to move our island out of the kitchen so we can move a table in… until then, I’m stuck with putting Nathan in his high chair) and of course, he would have none of this high chair business. So he threw another tantrum and wrenched my neck in the process. An hour or so later, I was putting away clean laundry. As I reached above my head to put away some blankets, I heard an audible pop! in my neck and then felt blinding white pain.

It’s been severe agony ever since.

I haven’t lost my range of motion in my neck itself, but I can’t shrug my shoulders. The only semi-comfortable position I can sleep in is on my stomach with my head turned to the right. Forget about sleeping on my right side or back. I have throbbing pain all through my neck radiating down into my right shoulder and also up into my skull- pain that’s so intense that I’m finding it hard to concentrate. And then the icing on the cake- a couple days ago, I started getting these flurries of piercing of headaches in the back of my head that radiate into my right eye, which I’m sure is related to my neck injury. It feels exaclty how I imagine it would feel if someone was stabbing me with an ice pick. Each one only last 1-2 seconds… 5 at most… but they are debilitating because I only get a few seconds of relief before the next wave hits. Fortunately after about 5-10 waves, they will dissipate for a while. But when it’s happening, it’s absolutely excruciating. I’ve tried everything… OTC medications like Tylonol, Ibuprofen, and Aleve don’t work. Neither do topical creams or numbing agents. Heat and ice don’t work either. I took my prescription NSAID, but it didn’t do a damn thing. Additionally, it made me gain 5 pounds in 4 days (which I have thankfully lost already)… and since I have been working my butt off getting down to my goal weight, that was unacceptable. Since there was no progress anyway, I discontinued using it.

I guess another call to the doctor is in order. My grin-and-bear-it attitude has not been successful. I think this is something that probably can’t just be “waited out.”

I HATE going to the doctor. It’s a pain because I have to try to figure out babysitting… there is no way I would take him with me- he’s in his I’m Into Everything Around Me phase, and it’s exhausting taking him anywhere where he has to sit and be quiet. Plus I hate being around sick people. It makes me feel all anxious and stuff. The last time I went for my neck, I was sitting out in the waiting room (which, for some ungodly reason, is not divided into a sick side and a well side), watching in horror as sick people coughed their noxious sputum all into the surrounding air without even attempting to cover their mouths. I could practically see the droplets reflect in the sunshine shafts as they hurled through the air. Kinda like how you can see dust dancing. Only this was disgusting sick people mucus, not dust. I cowered in chair in a corner that was as far away from everyone as I could get, trying to take slow, shallow breaths. I don’t care how silly/paranoid/neurotic that sounds. I don’t want someone else’s toxic sick mucus droplets incubating in MY lungs, no thank you. The office even supplied masks for those with a cough, but not one single person used one. They just open-mouthed coughed all over the place.

Seriously. HOW HARD IS IT TO COVER YOUR MOUTH? Did their mothers not teach them proper MANNERS? To everyone who is sick and coughs without covering their mouth, here is a big fat FUCK YOU, ASSHOLES. I hope your mucus boomerangs back into your lungs and makes you DOUBLY sick instead of infecting other people. Self-absorbed nitwits who don’t think about other people. And for God’s sake, DON’T COUGH ON YOUR HANDS. It’s nasty. We touch lots of things with our hands, and all those germs are transferred from your hand to anything you touch. Cough into your elbow. My toddler even knows how to do it.

GROSS.

So yeah. Anyway, being a parent is hard. Not just mentally, but physically as well. It wasn’t so bad when he was a little baby, but now he’s all big and strong-willed and determined, and even though I’m in great shape, I’m still no match for the ire of a disgruntled soon-to-be three-year-old.

There is something innately endearing about a child putting his or her shoes on the wrong feet.

Nathan is completely enamored with his fireman boots. They were a Christmas gift from my mom, and let me tell you, Nathan can’t get enough of them. The first thing he does in the morning, before he’s even out of his PJ’s, is put on his boots. He clomps around in them all day, just as proud as he can be. Never mind that half the time they’re on the wrong feet. That stuff just doesn’t matter when you’re two years old.

I love this age. Well. I LOVE the age, but dislike the phase he’s going through right now… we’re going for yet another round of NOT MINDING! It’s driving me completely bonkers. For example, we got into a bit of a power struggle today. There’s a local mommy group in my area that meets once or twice a month for lunch and play with our kids. There was one today, and before I even left the house, I had inhibitions about attending. Nathan was in one of his moods, and I could just feel that things probably wouldn’t go smoothly.

I made his lunch (which is pretty much mandatory whenever I take Nathan somewhere. He’s incredibly picky, and coupling that with an intense desire to run amuk with the other kids makes Nathan want to completely forgo his dinners.) So it’s just easier to bring his own lunch, and we rarely get into power struggles over it.

Not today, however.

I told him after he ate his lunch, he could get down and go play with the other kids. Well, Nathan would have none of my rules, dontcha know. He balked. Loudly. He wanted to completely skip his lunch and go play, but unfortunately Nathan without food is a very-hard-to-manage Nathan. So I tried to compromise and advised him to eat just half of what I packed. No success. I tried to bribe him with a cookie. Nope, still didn’t work. Applesauce? He took a few bites and then had enough. Then he tried to pick up his plate and move it away. Finally, I told him to open his mouth and I would feed it to him. COMPLIANCE! Never mind that my child is nearly three years old now and I had to hand-feed him his lunch. All I was worried about was getting food into that grumpy little belly while simultaneously sticking to my rule of eating before play.

But then he went kinda nutzo. He had no sugar (the cookies “mysteriously” disappeared into my own mouth), so I’m not sure where all the crazy energy came from. But he started running around the room, yelling and bouncing around while his wavy hair flapped crazily around his head. I watched in horror as he forcefully yanked toys away from other kids, stole their stickers and decorated his own torso with the loot, and danced around like a jumping bean that had been soaking in adrenaline for a number of days. I tried to reprimand him. When I saw him jerk toys away from other kids, I immediately went to him and gave the toy back to the other child, explaining to Nathan that he needs to share and be nice to others. I took the stickers off his torso and handed them back to the kids he stole them from.

But the ultimate embarrassment was when Nathan physically shoved another little guy down, causing him to cry. One of the volunteers approached me and told me what Nathan did, and I immediately whisked him away into a corner for timeout after I making him apologize to the other boy. I told the mother I was terribly sorry, but she was a bit of a bitch about it. Yeah, I know my child hurt her child, but guess what? It happens. That does NOT mean it’s ok, but it IS to be expected with two and three year olds. But she was absolutely bitchy about it. As I was apologizing for my son’s actions, she didn’t even acknowledge me. In fact, she turned away from me and ignored me as she held her crying son. I totally get that she was upset, but there was no need for her to be rude about it. So I just shook my head and left her alone.

That’s ok. Her child will shove another kid one day when he’s around Nathan’s age. Hopefully the parent of the child he hurts will be nicer to her than she was to me. After being shunned like that, though, I won’t be apologizing to her again if my child ever behaves inappropriately towards her child again. Nathan will apologize to the child he hurt, but I won’t go out of my way just for her to reciprocate with rudeness.

Yes, I’m a little pissed off at her arrogance.

But enough of that. Arrogant, bitchy people are everywhere in this world. I am quite sure I will encounter many, many more throughout my life.

So yeah, Nathan has his super sweet, precious and endearing moments… but this belligerent phase he’s going through right now is driving me insane. I’m hoping this phase doesn’t last long. I want him to be sweet again. Don’t get me wrong, he totally has a multitude of sweet moments. I’ve noticed he gets really wound up when we’re out in public, especially if there’s a lot of other kids around or bustling activities. I’m going to have to figure out a way to work on this…

In the meantime, I’m going to soak up every single sweet moment he has. I know his not-so-sweet moments are just a phase that he will outgrow with love and patience. I’ve had SO many people tell me the Terrible Two’s are nothing compared to the Terrifying Three’s. He’s almost three. I hope this behavior is not a taste of what I’m in for in the coming year!

I don’t care when he gets up in the morning and plays with his toys. We hear him and immediately go in his room and remove the heater and humidifier. But night time means bed time.

It’s funny because I remember when I was a kid, I used to sneak out of bed to play with my toys, too. I could always hear my parents walking down the hall to check on me, and I would scramble back into bed, throw the covers over me, and pretend like I was asleep. I used to also sneak out of bed to grab a book and a flashlight, and then I would curl up under the covers with my flashlight and read.

Nathan’s not quite at that age yet. He always gets caught because he’s so loud. His little footsteps stomp all over the floor, echoing with freedom as he runs around the room with excitement. We can also hear the clicking noise the heater makes when the buttons are pushed. And last night I caught him messing around once again with his humidifier. It’s a penguin-shaped humidifier, complete with a swiveling head.

Nathan decaptiated it last night.

I walked in him to find him standing near the humidifier with the penguin’s head in his hands. “Look, Mommy!” he exclaimed upon seeing me. “I found this!” And then he proceeds to ceremoniously hand me the penguin’s head. As if that would get him out of trouble. Like the head was just LAYING around on the floor in some dark corner, lost for months, collecting dust and providing a home for tiny spiders and he JUST SO HAPPENED to have stumbled upon it.

Yeah right.

So he’s lost his TV privileges again for today. Along with the stories I read to him before bedtime. If he keeps it up, we’ll take away his dinosaurs (oh how he loves his dinosaurs). I hope he stops being so head-strong about this because he’s just going to get into more and more trouble. I hate that for him… but regardless, we still have to teach him about consequences.

In other news, Nathan ran up to me for a hug the other day. I squatted down to accept it and he wrapped his little arms around me. As he was hugging me, he patted my back and said sweetly, “You’re so precious.”

Precious? I couldn’t help but giggle. I sure do love that kid. Mischievousness and all.

That’s right, Nathan is grounded from TV today for not minding.

He totally gets it, too. After breakfast, we normally let him watch an episode of Blue’s Clues, but not today. He asked for Blue, but I reminded him that he doesn’t get to watch any of his shows today due to continuously getting out of bed last night. “Okay, Mommy,” he said quietly without resisting. He knows what he did. He knows he’s supposed to stay in bed at night. And he understands that he now has to deal with the consequences. I know he doesn’t like it, but at least he’s accepting it.

In other news, Nathan and I still have that cough. Mine is getting a little better, but Nathan’s is still junky-sounding and deep. But on the bright side, I successfully taught him to cover his mouth with his elbow when he coughs. And he does! He’s pretty good at remembering to do it, even when he’s in the process of running or playing with his toys.

He’s losing his baby-ness and is becoming more and more like a little boy.

In fact, Paul’s mom told me about the last time Nathan was over at their house, he picked his nose, opened up a drawer, and promptly flung his booger into it. Can you believe that? That’s not something babies do, that’s for sure.

I have so many more similar antics to look forward to, don’t I?

When we learn about the letter “B,” for example, I’ll ask him what sound(s) that particular letter makes and then we’ll talk about different words that start with that letter. I turn it into a fun game and make it something exciting and interesting. Whenever I ask Nathan if he would like to talk about a new letter, he gets so excited, claps his hands, and will even do a little dance. So, after I drew on the board and we talked about the letter “B,” Nathan walked around the house saying, “B is for book! Book starts with the letter B! B says buh… buh… buh!”

I’m so glad he likes learning and loves to read. As long as he keeps up a love of learning and reading, the sky is the limit for him.

Fortunately, he’s calmed down a lot over the past week or so.

We anticipated once that phase was over, he would probably start talking more. But we had no idea it would be like unleashing a dam! It happened so suddenly. I blinked and *POOF!* he started talking more and more like a big boy.

The other day, he found his missing cape. When I heard the triumphant sound of dancing feet, I peeked into his room and saw he had already put it on.

“I found my cape!” he exclaimed. I stared, speechless.

“What?” I asked, not really sure if I had really just heard him correctly use a sentence.

“I found my cape! I found it!” he said.

Wow. Just… wow. A couple of weeks ago, he would have said something like, “Look! Cape!” but this time, he used a whole sentence. And I was super impressed that he used his pronouns correctly. Just like a big boy! And now that he’s transitioning past this epic Misbehaving Phase, he’s becoming so dang sweet. He wraps his little arms around my neck and says, “I love you so much, Mommy” as he plants little kisses on my cheeks.

My favorite sentence he’s said this far was when he was sitting on his potty, reading a book as he tried to go. He opened one of his favorite books, The Little Engine That Could, ran his hands up and down the front page, and said, “I love books soooooooooooo much.”

Another new development… He’s minding me better when I explain things to him.

For example, my mom, Nathan, and I went to eat at Red Lobster the other day. Nathan was sitting beside me in the booth, and he repeatedly attempted to slide under the table, stand in the booth, talk to the people behind us, etc. I finally had enough, and I plopped him back down beside me and told him that was enough. He needed to sit still and stop trying to slide under the table. He did NOT like that one bit, and he threw a hideous temper tantrum which involved banshee-like shrieking and ripping out one of my earrings and hurling it onto the table. I picked his angry butt up out of the booth and marched him outside for a time out and a harsh scolding. After he completed his timeout, I told him his behavior was unacceptable and that if he chooses to continue to behave like a brat, I would take away his books. I told him when we went back inside, I expected him to mind like a big boy and not throw any more tantrums.

Well, he did pretty good when we went back in to finish our lunch.

But then when it was time to leave, he spied the lobster tank they keep out in the lobby.

Uh oh.

He ran towards the tank and stood inches from the glass. “Hi, fish!” he said, waving his hand. “Lots of fish in the fishtank,” he mused as he stood there, watching intently. I dreaded telling him it was time to go. We needed to leave, but when I tried to steer Nathan away from the tank, he resisted. A could feel a tantrum brewing. But I had a plan.

“Nathan,” I said. “We need to leave. If you’re good and don’t throw a temper tantrum, then I will let you look at the lobsters next time we come back. But, if you’re NOT good and you decide to throw a tantrum, then no more lobsters. I will NOT let you look at them the next time we come back. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s go then.”

“Okay.”

Okay? Really? And then he turned around, grabbed my hand, and walked out of the restaurant like a big boy. It’s the little things like this that make me feel like I am doing something right.

So today, I walked past him as he was playing in his room. I heard him say, “Time to clean up!” and as I peeked my head through the door, I saw him picking up his Hot Wheels, one in each hand, and transporting them to their proper place into the basket on the toy shelf. He did this multiple times until all 50+ Hot Wheels were picked up off the floor.

I could not be more proud. I know plenty of adults who are too lazy to clean up after themselves, so seeing my two-year-old do it without any prompting makes me feel like I’m doing something right. I tell him all the time how important it is to clean up after himself because if he doesn’t do it, then that means someone else has to, and that’s not right.

For instance, I used to be a waitress when I was 16 years old. And out of all the different people that I served, guess who I hated waiting on the most? FAMILIES WITH KIDS. I especially hated, HATED waiting on the families with small children. Why, you ask? Well, because the majority of all the parents that came in apparently thought it was perfectly fine and “normal” for their kids to fling food all over the table and floor, spill drinks, be disruptive, and make the most God-awful messes I’ve ever seen. And the kicker? The reason why I hated serving them so much, aside from the irritation of dealing with a child who has no discipline?

SHITTY TIPPERS.

I tell you, parents with messy kids tended to leave the saddest tips I’d ever seen. You see, servers don’t get paid crap. At the time (over a decade ago), the hourly rate was $2.13 an hour, and to this day, it still hasn’t gone up to minimum wage. That’s because servers are expected to make up the difference with tips. So here I am, busting my ass cleaning up after these bratty little booger-crusted hellions and for next to nothing. No matter how great of a server I was… never letting their drinks empty, bringing their orders out in a timely manner, etc… they still only left a dollar or two. Even if that tip was 10-20% of their bill, when they allow their child(ren) to leave such a horrendous mess, they should tip more because the server now has to go above and beyond to take care of something the parents apparently didn’t have the capacity to take care of themselves. And the more time I had to spend cleaning up after a table, the less turnover I had, the less tables I could wait on, and the less money I could make.

It was really such a welcome relief when the few families with well-behaved, respectful kids came in. That’s probably why whenever we go out to eat, our server inevitably comments on how well-behaved Nathan is.

Here’s the deal. People who let their kids make these disgusting messes pretty much look like complete Parenting Failures to all who observe them. Typically speaking, the messy kids are also the ones throwing tantrums, screaming, standing up in their seats, flinging food across the room, climbing up on top the tables, being disruptive and disturbing the other patrons, etc etc etc etc. Lazy parenting at it’s best, folks. So what gives me the right to say that?  Well, my two-year-old would LOVE to do those things. I’ve never, NEVER allowed him to drop his food on the floor, take food off his plate or play with it, stand up in his seat, climb on the table, or any of that. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely tries. But I am the PARENT. It’s my job to prepare him for the next stage in life, and letting him do all those things teaches him nothing but how to be self-absorbed, entitled, and bratty. My child will not be allowed to be a brat. I know he is capable of better, therefore I expect more of him. I teach him what I expect of him when we’re at the table. And when he doesn’t comply, there are consequences (like putting him in time out, for example. And there have been many, many times I’ve had to get up from the table, take him outside, and put him in time out for not minding me at the table.)

Time and time again, I see parents “check out” while their kid runs amok at restaurants.

There is no excuse. None. Put on your big girl (or boy) panties and BE A PARENT. Teach your child the right way to behave. It’s not the kids’ fault that their parents suck, and believe me they will pay for your failures as they grow into adults, and that’s not fair to the child.  They usually end up becoming bratty, self-absorbed and entitled adults who won’t be able to get far in life.  What a shame.

I can’t stand to see bad parenting because it’s so selfish on the parents’ part and is nothing but detrimental to the child. Your child deserves better. Your child deserves a parent who is going to at least TRY mold them into becoming a responsible adult. I have friends whom I am embarrassed to go eat with because their own children, who are older than my son, are hellions at the table. When we leave the restaurant, my son’s area is clean. There is no food on the floor, no spilled drinks (I understand it’s inevitable, but some kids spill their drink nearly every single time they eat) and no disruptions such as standing up in his chair or getting up and running around the table.

The world doesn’t revolve around a single one of us. We have to be respectful of others, and we have to understand how our actions affect those around us. It’s our job as parents to teach our children those same principals. Anything less is letting your child down and inadequately preparing him/her for life. That’s not fair to the child.

Nathan’s mood varies in the mornings. Most times he wakes up all jolly and full of rainbows and lolly pops. Other times, he wakes up grumpy and irritable. Full of “piss and vinegar” as the saying goes. He’s hard to deal with on those days, and it usually takes quite a bit of playing and bribing with books to get him into a better mood. In the picture above, he’d had a great morning. (Fortunately he has those more often than not.) Look at his morning hair! I was sitting on the ground when I took it, so the picture looks like he’s a giant in a tiny little room.

And see the mess behind him? Well, every night before he goes to bed, we clean up his room. And the first thing he does in the morning is drag his toys back out to play. I’ve really been working with him on cleaning up after himself. He and I always clean his room before he goes down for his nap. I set out some baskets, and we sort the toys. Legos here, cars there, blocks in that one, books in this one. Most of the time, he gets distracted and wants to play with the toys we are cleaning up, but I tell him we clean up first and THEN he can play with his toys again. This seems to work well. Just yesterday, he brought a basket filled with over 50 Hot Wheels and dumped most of them onto the coffee table. He played with them for a while, and when he was done –get this– he put them all back into the basket and carried it to his room!

Good work, son.

I know I say this a lot, but I have to say it again. I can’t believe how quickly he’s growing up.

He ignored me.

He does that a lot.

“Okay, I see you’re not hungry so I will just have to eat all that delicious food all by myself,” I said. Reverse psychology works. So I backed out of his room and waited in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, listening to his clamoring footsteps.

“Stay in your room!” he hollered to himself the moment his house-shoe clad foot touched the kitchen tiles. I caught a glimpse of light brown hair as he galloped out of his room and through the kitchen, running with such speed that HE WAS ACTUALLY A BLUR.

Sometimes it’s really hard not to laugh.

Nathan has his first visit to the Emergency Room on Wednesday. We were at the park, having a good ole time together. We were the only ones there. We had initially met one of my friends and her kids, but after they left, I decided to let Nathan stay a bit longer. Then, a couple of men appeared from nowhere and walked around the play area, staring at us the whole time. Then they stood off to the side and talked to each other for a few minutes while continuing to stare at me and Nathan. They started walking back towards the play area, making me nervous… they were in their early-to-mid twenties and had no business hanging out at a playground without having kids there themselves. They sauntered over to the swings and proceeded to swing while still watching us.

I grabbed ahold of Nathan’s hand and told him that it was time to go. I’m not a paranoid person, but I started thinking that if I screamed, it would take the nearest person at least 30 seconds to run to us… that is, if anyone even bothered to help. I had tunnel vision- I was focused on getting us out of there so I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been to Nathan, therefore I was unable to anticipate what he did next.

When he saw we were walking back towards his stroller, he had a temper tantrum and collapsed into an angry little crying heap on the ground. Since I had a firm grip on his hand, it dislocated his elbow. I realized something was wrong when Nathan started crying in pain, grabbing his forearm with his right hand, and pinching his skin.

“Hurt! Scared, Mommy!” he wailed as he cradled his injured arm.

When I saw what I had done, I got sick to my stomach and almost threw up on myself. Fortunately, the hospital was just a couple blocks away, so we made a trip to the ER. The doctor was very nice and empathetic, and said that what happened is actually quite common and is called Nursemaid’s Elbow.  He was able to quickly maneuver the elbow back into place.

When the doctor told Nathan it was all done and okay to use his arm now, Nathan refused to believe him. He walked to the door and jiggled the door handle.

“Wanna go bye bye! Go home? Pweese? Home?” he cried as tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Not yet, little man. I need you to give me a high five so I can see that you move your arm,” replied the doctor.

“NO! HOME!” Nathan wailed pitifully.

“Come here, Nathan,” I said. As I gathered the boy up in my arms I said, “I’m going to kiss your elbow, and when I do, it’s going to be all better ok? No more hurt.” And I kissed his little arm up and down. When I was done, Nathan stopped crying, raised his arm to his face, and gave me a big tear-filled smile.

“All better, Mommy! Thanks!” he said happily.

Sometimes they just need Mommy’s kiss, huh?

Well, the story doesn’t end there, unfortunately. A couple days later, on Friday, we went to a Mommy Lunch. It’s hosted once or twice a month by a local hospital for moms (and dads too!). It’s free, and it lasts for about an hour. They have toys set out and volunteers there to watch the kids so the moms can enjoy a meal while the kids play. It was raining that day, so when it was time to leave, I held my purse, diaper bag (each weighing approximately as much as a Sumo Wrestler), and a giant umbrella with my left arm. I held on to Nathan with my right hand.

I wasn’t thinking.

And of course, in the parking lot, what did Nathan do?

He LUNGED away from me. While I was holding his hand. In the rain. With cars around.

So his elbow was dislocated a SECOND time in just two days.

Panicking, I picked him up and raced back inside. The lady who runs the mommy group is a nurse, so I went straight to her, told her what happened, and asked her if she could fix it. By this time, I was sobbing. I could not believe this happened to my child AGAIN… TWICE. She said that yes, she knew how to fix it, but she wasn’t legally allowed to so I would have to take him to the ER again.

Which would have been fine. But our insurance copay for emergency room visits is $100. We aren’t poor by any means, but we are a family of three living off of one income, a total of $200 for two ER visits is a lot of money to fork out unexpectedly in a span of just two days. So I relayed my concern to the nurse, and she is actually close friends with Nathan’s pediatrician.  A $25 copay for an office visit is much more manageable than $100. Unfortunately, she could not get ahold of him on his cell, so she tried calling the office. They said they preferred I take him to the ER. When she told them about the steep copay, they said they could look at him if we stopped first and got him x-rayed. That was so unneccessary… his arm was not fractured or broken. There was no swelling, no discoloration, and Nathan was running around the room playing.  He was not in nearly as much pain as he was when it happened at the park. I was waaaaay more upset by his dislocated elbow than he was.

So anyway, after the pediatrician’s office said that, I said I would call my husband and see what he wanted to do. I hated bothering him at work, and I knew he would be aggravated with me for holding onto the same arm that Nathan dislocated just two days prior. I feel so horrible for repeating the same mistake again. I’m supposed to protect my child from harm, not cause it.

Paul wanted to come by and see how it looked (since he was nearby anyway, finishing up his lunch break) and then we would figure out what to do from there. When he arrived, he took one look at Nathan’s elbow and said that we definitely needed to go to the ER. It wasn’t distorted or anything, but it was limp and it hurt Nathan to move it. Paul didn’t want to try to move the arm around and said it was best to let a doctor do it. It’s better to be safe than sorry…

SO. Back to the ER. We were taken into the triage room after only 5 or 10 minutes, ahead of the other people that were there. Once we were in the triage room (they recognized us since we were just there), a Physician’s Assistant came in, reset Nathan’s elbow in less than a second, and we were ready to go. He also showed me how to do it myself since this keeps occurring. As we were waiting on the paperwork, I talked to the triage nurse about what happened. I was a sobbing mess; I felt absolutely horrible for allowing this to happen again. She told me that yes, I was holding the same arm, but had I been holding the other arm, the it could have happened to the other arm. She said that some kids are just inherently more prone to it because of soft, growing ligaments and that it’s not something I should beat myself up over because it’s a fact-of-life; it happens. Some kids, she said, have been in the ER 10-15 times for it. It’s quite common and it’s something they see all the time. She also said it’s even more common in strong-willed children (like Nathan) because they try even harder to get away from their parents. Regardless, I still felt horrible.

So once the paperwork came, she sent me to checkout. And get this… they didn’t charge a copay!! Can you believe it? I even specifically asked if there was one, just to be sure, and they said no.

Wow. What a relief.

So I’ve come up with a plan to hopefully prevent this from ever happening again. Nathan has a little monkey harness. It’s like a tiny back-pack that straps around his chest, and it has a really long tail that the parent can hold on to. I haven’t used it yet because, I didn’t know this until I became a mommy, they are “controversial.” Some people are busybodies, and they opine that putting a child on a harness akin to treating them like an animal. They bloviate about how parents should teach their children not to run away from them, and how parents need to parent, and how “leashes” (as they love to call them) are the lazy way out.

Well, these people apparently have never had an abnormally strong-willed, exceptionally determined child with a habit of attempting to wrench himself away from the parent with such force that his elbow becomes dislocated. So their opinions about how I choose to keep my child safe are irrelevant to me. If anyone has the audacity to reprimand me for choosing not to risk another dislocated elbow, I will politely inform them them that this is my choice to keep my child safe due to being in the ER twice for a dislocated elbow. I am not going to be leading him around like a puppy. I will have him hold my hand and the harness will be a backup, that way if he lets go of my hand, there is no danger of him running into traffic, etc.

I’m so glad this week is over. It was emotionally exhausting. Nathan is perfectly fine now, though. After they reset it, any pain he had completely disappeared. There is no lingering pain, and he immediately regained full use of his arm again. He’s back to being his typical little self. I was more traumatized by the two ordeals than my child was. I hope it never, ever happens again. It’s such a nauseating, disheartening feeling to cause your child pain.