Friday morning I’ll get x-rays, and if my bone’s healed, I won’t have to wear a brace anymore. It will be weird to have a normal arm again. (A normal-ish arm, anyway. I’ll still have a Frankenstein scar and have to figure out how to use it again.) Then I’ll start physical therapy. I hope it works well. Right now it still hurts a lot to try to bend or twist my wrist.
The six weeks in a splint and brace started out somewhat worse than I’d expected, but got better. I’d say the first three weeks were the hardest, and since then it’s mostly been inconvenient, but manageable.
Here are a bunch of Hazel quotes I’ve been saving up:
Trying to locate a missing sock: “Sock, where are you? I have a treat for you!”
“Mom, my teef bited my tongue.”
“Your teeth bit your tongue?”
“Yeah, my baby teef. My baby teef bited my baby tongue.”
Hazel shows me the names of her fingers. The index is the pinkie, and all the rest are made-up, nonsense names.
Hazel, seeing a dog behind a fence: “It’s a mom dog! Where’s the kitty baby for the mom dog? Her kitty baby is lost.”
Henry had his “everyday hero” day in kindergarten, and Dean couldn’t come (because his lucky chemical engineering students got to take an in-class test-yippee!) but I brought Hazel along.
Henry’s new favorite t-shirt features an iron-on I asked Dean to make. The shirt was a cheap one to begin with, and it used to feature a Rolie-Polie-Olie design I had ironed onto it, which was Henry’s favorite until the picture got cracked and faded. Then I managed to mostly remove the old transfer, and Henry wanted images from Kung-Fu Panda 2 this time. After I asked Dean to design the transfer, I had to keep forcing myself not to rush him, because he took at least three times as long with it as I would have. But Henry’s very, very, happy with the result, and wears the shirt for as many days in a row as I’ll let him. (Usually not more than four.) So that’s a lot of mileage for one cheap tee.
Henry also really likes his pockets. We went to the “show day” at his gymnastics and sports class, and he kept his hands in his pockets for all the demonstrations, until I told him that for football he really did need his hands free. He was cute doing his soccer and golf moves with one or no hands out of his pockets, though.
Henry’s been telling me Hazel should be in preschool, but Rose told Henry that Hazel’s in home-preschool. So that’s what I tell Hazel, too, and she seems content with it. (But Henry keeps telling me I should enroll Hazel in preschool Right! Now! I am trying to find a way to get him to drop it without saying Shut! Up!) Anyway, I think Hazel enjoys home-preschool. Today she squirted out a whole lot of hand soap and ran water until the sink was full of foam, then patted the foam all over her face. That seems fun and educational.
Sometimes I catch myself feeling sorry for Hazel that she doesn’t get as many outings and playdates as my older kids did at her age. And then I remind myself that she has FOUR older siblings who dote on and/or harass her all day long, and that her short time alone with me while Henry’s at school is precious.
Mabel and a couple of classmates represented France for their grade’s World’s Fair last week. We’d already figured out a food she could bring (cheese!) but two days before the fair she told me she needed a costume, too. I was pleasantly surprised to come up with something within about 5 minutes of her request. And then I nearly died from what a cute French girl she makes: