If we were having coffee, your mouth would open at the sight of the bandage on my ring finger. What happened?! Girl, let me tell you, and this is going to get kind of gross. I was using my new mandolin slicer to cut bits of apple for the Wee One, and wouldn’t you know it, I sliced the corner of my finger off.*

You immediately grimace and gasp. It’s not as bad as it sounds but it sucked when it happened. At first I thought I would have to get stitches, but there was nothing to stitch together!  And then I thought, how am I going to get her out of her high chair and into a car seat without bleeding all over the place? I was trying to keep it elevated and pressure on it, which meant I couldn’t do anything with her! It also meant I had a sanitary napkin wrapped around my finger, which was the only sanitary wound care thing we had in the house, and looked pretty funny.

Then, she started choking on one of those fucking apple slices! She ended up throwing up a little bit, which got it out, but I was so upset, more than about my finger. I got her out of her high chair and held her for awhile, during which time the bleeding slowed and eventually stopped. I had contacted a friend to come over and help with her, for which I am so thankful. She stayed here and I got a proper bandage.

If we were having coffee, you would ask about the Wee One’s birthday party. It was so much work, man.  I didn’t know it would be so much work, but, we had it in the clubhouse of the apartment complex, which is probably why it felt like so much: I had to take everything there and bring it back, which meant packing and unpacking the car. But the Wee One had fun and I’m glad it’s done.

We’re briefly distracted by some kids player soccer in the parking lot outside. I hope that doesn’t last long, you observe, given the traffic that comes through.

If we were having coffee, I would comment on one of the babies at the birthday party: she turned four months yesterday, which is about the age the Wee One was when we moved out here. It was remarkable to hold her and compare between then and now.

She’s a year old now. I can tell that she isn’t a baby anymore, but she’s not quite a toddler yet either. (Though that may mostly because because she’s still not mobile.) I can’t tell if I’m sad or not; I mostly just want to hold the Wee One closer. Which I usually want to do anyway. Also, my first year of motherhood is over. Even with a second, it won’t be my first time through. This special sacred tremulous time is over. Of course, now it’s my first time mothering a toddler, so here’s to that, I say with a smile, raising my coffee.

 

 

 

 

 

*It has made typing this week quite difficult!