The fun is all over folks and we haven’t even rung in the New Year. Christmas was wonderful, we had Hex home for a long extended holiday (and he’s still home), Basil had the best birthday bash yesterday at Chuck E Cheese – his father was digusted at the thought of a dancing rat to mascot his son’s birthday but everyone else weren’t too bothered by it. But the festivity and party must end sometime. And like the saying goes, “It’s all fun and games until someone gets poked in the eye.”
And yep, someone did get poked in the eye. That someone is Hex which explains why he is still at home. His three day holiday became a four-day holiday so he could be home for Basil’s brithday. Now he is still at home on the fifth day because a small child was so happy to show daddy her toy that she shoved it in his eye, “Look Daddy!”
I was busy in the middle part of the house at the time but I heard loud kids running around, Father bossing Kids to bring down the laundry, a minute of quiet before the loud scream of anguish ripped from Father that would normally concern anyone who cared. It was a cry of deep pain and seemed to have errupted from the deep bowels of his guts.
Usually I would be concern, but I have heard this cry before, so I naturally recalled the times when bouncy Kids knocking over a cup of coffee coiled Father to quick and anguish grief that shook the house. Or worst yet, when one of the karate-kicking, couch-hopping, cushion-removing, people-climbing kids pulled a cord from his laptop or dislodged an essential attachment to the laptop. Then Father’s anguish spewled from his soul. So, heartless me just shrugged it off and said, “they – Father/Kids – deserved each other.” Really, after so many times of telling Father to NOT let the kids jump and climb all over him, I gave up.
So when I finally found out that Father was poked in the eye, I was a little concerned. But to Father’s credit, he was so full of concern and sympathy for Wee Daughter, who was crying endlessly for herself because she was feeling bad for hurting her daddy. He sought after her even as she – awashed with guilt- just wanted Mama.
I didn’t play the fool. Sure I comforted the child, but eventually I told the child to hush up and stop the dramatics. There’s nothing worst in the world then letting a child just go on and on with self-pity – besides Father was allowing her to do plenty of that.
Hex woke up this morning half blind, dizzy, and looking bad. He stumbled around the house doing chores and helping himself to breakfast. Then sat down to breakfast groaning intermittenly about the dizziness, pain, swelling…
“Your doctor’s appointment is at 3:10” I said.
“That’s too late in the dayyyyyyyyyy…” he whined.
“Then let’s go to the ER” I reasoned.
“Mama, what’s an ER?” asked Basil.
“E for Emergency, R for Room”, I answered.
That started the kids on a rememberance of “times we took Daddy to the ER”. That displeased Hex , and he refused to supply them with another time he was driven to the ER for a small injury.
So he’s at home trying to work. (I do occassionally look over my shoulder to check.) He is a sweetheart, and he tries. At breakfast, he sat blind with eyes swimming in tears and a head all dizzy to tell me:
that he felt like a drunkard,
and that I looked beautiful,
and that I was a vision last night as I walked to the bathroom
in my granny-panties.
He does have a good heart.
But I don’t know if I can do the same for him. He thinks that I occassionally check on him because I am concern about his eye. I am concerned but I look for another reason. I don’t have to heart to tell him the truth: his injuries are worst than he thinks: he has gone ugly, half his face is mauled and slung down to his shoulders but he’s too dizzy and drunk to see it right. He ain’t beautiful anymore but, he is still a vision to behold when he walks to the bathroom in his tiddy-whities.
So I am putting up and away all the New Year’s party gears. Away with the delicious pork rib that we spend $30 buying, the sparkling apple cider for the kids to help us celebrate a new year, the rum and coke, anything resembling fun. It’s time for us to move on to other things. We had fun – like a good poke in the eye.