Painful

I have a question for you. How many times a year, on average, would you say your family suffers physical ailments? Do you think that number would increase the more people you have in your family? At what point does the number of injuries become just a little ridiculous? When is it time to hide behind closed doors because you don’t want to have to explain yet another accident? Do you think it would be okay to wrap the children in straightjackets, then roll them in bubble wrap?

There is already a blog post about a series of incidents involving various children hurting themselves and I feel like we’ve never gotten off the trauma train since. We’re not even rotating the injuries fairly amongst all the kids. Some of them are so eager to run, hop, jump, bump, cramp, limp that our two sets of crutches are in constant use. Despite coming up with an awesome motto, “Do nothing, hurt nothing,” there are a select few children whose piles of bills are so numerous they are now being used as paperweights.

In related news, Anna has a sprained ankle. Oddly enough, earlier on the same day she hurt herself, Caleb ran into the fireplace, twisting his ankle — or maybe he twisted his ankle, causing him to fall into the fireplace? I’m not really sure which came first. I wish this was a joke, but the thunk, thunk, thunk of four crutch pads hitting the floor says otherwise. Though it definitely hurt initially, Caleb’s injury wasn’t so severe that he couldn’t continue to ride on the one-wheel or join his brother in racing their remote control cars outside. His limp is as cute as he is and he seems to be healing faster than the neighbor boy can ask “do you want to ride my E-bike?” 

Anna’s ankle, on the other foot, was as swollen as a plump water balloon and she is not riding wheeled vehicles. I guess not all jump serves in volleyball end solely on the right foot. For once in her life, she seems to be listening to me. I mean, she watched my mouth move while she gimped off quickly in the other direction.  She did let me fill up the ice pack several times and bring meals to her during the first day or two. Thankfully, she’s been wearing the walking boot*, giving the ankle time to heal before the next contest. She’s already sat out for two matches and it was obvious by the look on her face that her foot will have no choice but to be ready for Friday’s game. 

Meanwhile, Ellie is playing “how long can I walk around without my sling on before something hurts my shoulder” which doesn’t seem like a very good name for a game. She’s clearly eager to get back to her regularly scheduled activities and it was fun asking the surgeon when she could resume them. “When can she play piano again?” “What about viola?” “She is taking a sign language class; how soon will she be able to use her right hand for that?” “Can she drive?” “Do you think she’ll be good to go by basketball season?” I’m sure he thinks we’re nuts, especially as this isn’t the first of my children to be seen by him, but I’d like to think that when he sees ‘Allan’ on the chart, it gives him joy to know his paycheck is a sure thing. 

To the best of my knowledge the other half of the kids are around, some following our new motto better than others, and others playing more conservatively than some. Jake adeptly manages to participate in all the intramural sports, work, study, attend classes, and drive down to West Palm Beach every other weekend and still finds time to call home. Isaac seems to think his time is best spent walking up to me every day, asking “did you know…?” (I never do), which doesn’t usually result in any bodily harm. James plays it safe by wearing his helmet when he uses the one-wheel to pull Caleb, who is sitting on a flat dolly, up the street by a rope, and since he just lost his jackknife, limbs will stay intact for a little while longer. 

Danny’s work keeps him flush with stress, long hours, red-eye flights, and people to supervise. It is injurious only to his sensibilities, which is a lot since he needs to be on top of his game to handle marriage to me. And me? I’ve been contemplating how to live out this verse:

“Let us not be weary in well doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.”

Mostly the weary and fainting bits. How does one not grow weary when it seems you are stuck in an endless loop of accidents and doctor visits and sickness? How does one not tire of the meal-making, the washing, the cleaning, the child-rearing? I know the answer lies in my relationship with the Lord and that true peace comes from Him. I know He gives more grace and His mercies are new every morning. I am loved and overwhelmed by the answers to prayer we have received, and I do rest in the knowledge that the joy of the Lord is my strength, which is the only way this mothering can really be accomplished. 

But honestly? Sometimes it hurts.

^{*This week’s update is brought to you by Aircast, the official accessory for the chronically clumsy.}