Parenting when you are on crutches with a broken leg: Some reflections. And: IS IT POSSIBLE? A report from the trenches.
So I went on a girls’ downhill mountain biking weekend in Fernie. My husband was worried about me coming home hungover and not useful.
He was definitely correct on the latter.
Which brings me to ask question.
Do you think that the most likely place to break a leg would be…
a.) Downhill mountain biking on technical runs at Fernie Alpine Resort
b.) Technical trail running over a rooty trail on a mountain side
c.) Walking through a wildflower meadow
Correct. C. Because it makes THE MOST SENSE.
So anyways, I came back to 1 day of wallowing in self pity and pain…1 day of radiology, drs appointments and crutch sourcing…. and then 4 days of my husband being back at his job. Holy shit.
Remember the good ol days when you got sick or injured and people actually gave a fuck? Remember when you could rest when you were injured? or sleep when you were sick?
I do too.
But then…it dawns on you.
You’re a parent now.
As a hobbled around my exceedingly large campus work place on crutches, only made easier by the 5 m closer parking that my disabled parking placard gives me, I realized that there are all sorts of things complicated by a broken leg.
Inserting / removing a sleeping baby from a crib
Inserting / removing a tantruming toddler from a crib
Doing ANY activity with your kids
Maintaining sanity through exercise
Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation Defending bad leg with couch pillows and snatching back ice pack from curious toddler
Getting clothes on naked humans running around
Chasing breakaway toddlers
Putting children in car seats
Getting down stairs with a baby
Any form of housework WHO ARE WE KIDDING THIS IS AMAZING
Yes. It complicates a few things.
BUT IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE.
If there are two things I have in my arsenal, it is a dark sense of humour *and* the knowledge that I can figure a way to cope with ANY situation.
So here, I give you, solo parenting with a broken leg. Day 9 report.
Is: Day 9
Feels like: Day 223.
Husband gone on day shift. Inadvertently wake kids up with ca-clunking of crutches way before I am finished my coffee and generally functioning.
Get them dressed on our bed, mostly involving holding one down with elbow while other falls off the bed.
Don’t even bother with breakfast, hair brushing, teeth brushing. NOPE.
Slide down the stairs on my butt with baby in my right hand / smushed into right hip, because I can’t walk down the stairs yet. Have toddler (quite happily) throw crutches down (at) me. Only fleeting moment of cooperation from that one.
Manage to evade flying metal sticks of death.
Get out front door with one crutch (I have mastered this skill) – cat runs out – swat at cat with crutch to get him back in the house. Wonder if my neighbour is watching this gong show. Feel de ja vu. Is this a preview of my 70s?
Suddenly feel much older than 34.
Get generally uncooperative toddler into her car seat.
Baby crawls down front door steps & takes off crawling down the driveway. Made it FAR in less than 10 seconds. Leave toddler unstrapped to chase Baby who thinks this is h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s. Chase him down the drive – he’s giggling and speeding up because he thinks it’s a game.
The game of life has no victors, child.
Catch babykins by his diaper, put 200 lb on my bad leg, drop bad words, and lift all 30 pounds of him up with one arm, hobble back to car, struggle with car seat straps for a bit and angrily jam crutches between car seats.
Meanwhile toddler perfectly enunciating “fuck!” repeatedly, because that’s what mum said!
Safely clip my children into their car seats, so that they won’t be hurt in an accident (not that they’ll know because the crutches will probably behead them. AAAAh. Why didn’t I think about that?!) – Lie in trunk, open ski bag, put crutches in ski bag. Don’t fit.
Shimmy crutches across front seat.
Curse aggressive sports clutch and bad leg as I clutch and start the car.
Then gleefully clap because I DID IT!
I DID IT!
Mom injuries. Like regular injuries. Except you can’t “be injured.”