Cher sang it best in her hit single, “If I could turn back time”
(pic of her singing said song a lil too risqué for this G rated blog)
This is how life goes for us, something bad happens, something hurt or broken — news given, news received. Fear sets in and then regret and I find myself saying, “I wish this never happened– if only I could turn back time”.
I truly underestimate my influence on these daughters of mine. In my rational mind I understand that they are learning from my words and actions but in a flash of anger or terror or happiness – they look and sound JUST LIKE ME!
And this my friends isn’t so good…
Yesterday my sweet and subtly stubborn oldest daughter had wasted away the day in her PJ’s while computing and watching TV and snacking. Close to 7pm I demand that she showers and I lecture her on healthy habits and what’s in store for her tomorrow. Now grant it, we have had non stop company, travel and moved from one house to the convent and I’m sure she’s exhausted and could use a day in dirty jammies BUT…
About a half hour later I hear a guttural scream from the shower. In my mind I’m seeing a broken limb (bone exposed). Could it have something to do with her heart? No, she wouldn’t be screaming… The pitch and shrill suggests it has something to do with the site of blood. She almost faints at the site of blood.
I push open the bathroom door and through the steam I see lots of blood and tiny white slivers around her mouth. I get a little weak in the knees– grab her and tell her, “it’s fine and it’s all fixable”.
Lucy sportin’ her beautiful, permanent adult front teeth. Take a good, long look…
Does this mean I have to buy those little sticky flowers like Grandma use to have all over the tub? Member those? You would take a bath and scrape your, ah-hem…
Apparently when you use a half a bottle of conditioner on your unruly curls the tub gets slippery. Then when you try to exit the tub you slip and fall. Then if your my accident prone 9 year old you fall face down and use your teeth to catch your fall.
I make my hubs fish out the missing pieces and to my surprise – he does.
I take Lu to the er to see if any bones in her face are broken.
Long story short, we take her home. Take her to the Dentist the next day (that’s another post). I make her some soft food to eat and call her chipped teeth on toast. Which then reminds me of a lunch my dad used to make himself in-between working two jobs and different shifts when I was growing up.
Chipped beef on toast
I guess it’s something they would serve our poor fighting soldiers in the Army.