E...Etch-a-Sketch

I’ll admit I was a bit stuck for a topic for ‘E’, and went to bed thinking I was going to have to make do with this sandwich my Mom made with English muffins and eggs. When I woke this morning, my subconscious obviously at work in my sleep, I had my topic.

This is full disclosure, one of those moments of a Mom, out of control and stressed to the max, but still no excuse. I was recently divorced, finding my way as a single Mom, working, worrying about money, my kids and everything else. It was a time I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I can’t remember where we had been that night, but in my memory we were coming home late, and I wanted to get the kids into bed so I could just sit and relax for a few minutes. When I entered my son’s room his bed was covered in clothes, dirty, clean, folded and supposed to have been put away, I don’t know. The clothes were my final straw. How could he sleep with all that ‘stuff’ on his bed?

I proceeded to gather it all up off the bed, giving my best Mother’s rant about keeping his room clean etc. and threw everything on the floor at the same time my son leaned down to pick something up.

The clothes, and the etch-a-sketch that was buried in them, hit him on the back of the head. He cried out, there was blood, and I realized that stupid toy, that I had inadvertently thrown, had cut him on the scalp.

Instead of having the kids in bed and some ‘me’ time, I bundled them up and we took off to the emergency department for some not so quality ‘we’ time.

I was so upset, had visions of the Children’s Aid coming after me as they stitched up my kid. The staff at the hospital were great, no accusations, a lot of understanding, and no stitches required.

Looking back, I wish they had stitched that damn cut, it might not have scarred that way. Not that a tiny scar on the back of the head is a big deal, but the hair never grew where the injury occurred and with my son’s very short hair, it’s a constant reminder.

We have a great relationship, my son and I, and we laugh when he tries to make me feel guilty for that scar. He saw a key chain ornament one time, a perfect replica of the etch-a-sketch toy and almost bought it for me, as a joke, but realized that was maybe hitting to close to home.

I’m glad that we can laugh at that moment and accept, for none of us are perfect, especially Mothers, though we try very hard to make our children think we are.