This is day 6 of the fractured arm, and I think I am going to begin tracking time in this manner, as everything seems to revolve around the arm.
It is also the fifth straight day of 90+ degree temperatures, which is great in the summer because you can just hit the pool to cool off. Except that we can’t because William has a broken arm and it is not casted and the orthopedist said no, he cannot just take the splint/brace thing off real quick for a fun time in the pool. I asked.
Then I asked if he could play in his basketball tournament this weekend. Or the one next weekend, and the good doctor kind of looked at me like I was dumb. I guess I just wanted to be sure, you know, before I actually went through with the torture of my son having to sit around watching everyone else have fun some more.
And then I asked him about when he could start playing football because the first day of conditioning is in only a few weeks and he must have thought I was one of those insane moms that pushes their kids to do too much when the truth is that if I do not have this boy involved in something physical for about 90% of his waking hours he will go crazy and therefore so will I. Plus, if he can’t play, I want my registration fees back.
So he can’t shoot hoops because it is about 130 million degrees on our driveway plus he has a broken arm.
He can’t play catch because he has a broken arm.
He can’t play x-box because he has a broken arm and it hurts, strangely enough, to play x-box.
We can’t go to the pool because he has a broken arm.
We can’t ride bikes because he has a broken arm.
We can’t take a walk because it is 130 million degrees and I am just not that foolish.
So he is bored. I tried to play a game with him. (I should confess that I don’t really like board games.) He got mad because he lost his job as an attorney and became something else that made significantly less money and then he quit and decided to be the banker. Which interested him for about 15 minutes. He doesn’t like board games either. They should call them bored games. Because they’re boring, get it?
Then we turned on the TV. If I have to watch another episode of Jessie I’m going to go nuts. I have that awful song in my head “It feels like a party everyday! Hey Jessie!” ALL DAY LONG. So I sing it with the wrong words on purpose because it drives the kids crazy and that is what I’m all about when we’ve been cooped up for 6 days.
The television has even lost it’s luster at this point.
This morning William found a pack of sticky notes and put one on Henry’s back that said “Call me crazy.” Then Ella tried to put one on William’s back that said “I eat my poop.” It was in Henry’s handwriting, so I know they were in cahoots.
Good, good times, for real.