Do you remember this?
And this eye-watering tale?
Well it happened again. Same bed, same eye, flailing arms of a different child. At ten-thirty last night, when I couldn’t open my eye and I felt like the Pea shaped offender had left his finger in my eye, I knew this morning we would be going to A&E. I knew I would be given drops, some anaesthetic, some fluorecine, neither pleasant. I knew I would have to endure having extraordinarily bright lights shone in my already watering eye, and I knew I had no change for the car park.
What I hadn’t foreseen, however, was my daughter’s behaviour.
Today The Princess has been particularly grotty. She has thrown herself on the floor having a mini tantrum, she has said “No” to everything, she has cried and become very upset over seemingly nothing, and when she hasn’t actually been crying, she has been pretending to. She has been asking for Mummy a lot.
When The Princess woke up this morning, The Boyfriend told her we would be going to the hospital after breakfast. The last time the hospital was visited was when I was in labour, which involved an overnight stay at my parents’ for The Princess, and the introduction of her little brother. Life as she knew it was turned upside down. For four weeks or so, our house was filled with toddler tantrums, screaming, crying, battles at mealtimes and wars at bedtimes, and it wasn’t until all had settled down again that we realised it was The Princess’s attempts at processing this new situation, this new life, this new baby, and needing the reassurance that Mummy wasn’t again going to disappear for a couple of days and come home with yet another baby.
I think today, when The Princess heard we were going to the hospital because Mummy was poorly, it shook her little world, and she wondered what was going to happen, if I would be coming home, and if another Pea would be with me. As adults, we take so much for granted, our knowledge, our experiences, our understanding of the world, it is so easy to foget that little minds think differently, and just how much those little minds remember. I knew today that this would be a simple trip to diagnose a cut on my cornea, at 29 months The Princess doesn’t have enough experience to know the difference between a quick eye-check and some antibiotics being doled out, and an overnight stay having given birth. It makes me realise just how vulnerable and impressionable the minds of children are, and how important it is as parents that we fill them with as much good, as much positivity, as much security and safety and reassurance, as we possibly can.
Today The Princess and I have enjoyed lots of cuddles (in between the tantrums) and she has been a wonderful nurse, giving my eye (not always the right one) magic kisses and telling me not to worry, that I will be better soon. And I have made new year’s resolution #2:
To cut the children’s finger nails on a regular basis.