September 18, 2013 by jeliwobble
I think I maybe done with our general run of poopy luck, interspersed with very occasional bright spots.
On Sunday night, after a fairly hard working day, we decided to have the last barbecue of the summer. It was lush, with home made turkey burgers and hand made white burger rolls, halloumi, asparagus and aubergine done straight over the coals in just a little olive oil and seasoning, and a light salad. Feeling replete and ready for the bedtime routine, we were sitting enjoying the last of the evening light, quietly chatting. Eldest was getting ready to go off to do her little cat sitting job, Middlie was finishing up her second burger and Youngest was banging her milk cup. Son was playing on the deck with chalk, making a long road for his cars. Lost in his little world, he was walking backwards, head and chalk to the ground.
Then time did that slowing down menacing thing it always does in times of Oh. My. F*&^#@g. God!
I watched as my son backed his butt into the still cooking barbecue with a deceptive little bump. He looked up, surprised. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Are you alright? Did you burn yourself?’ I asked, already jumping out of my chair. ‘I don’t know…oh…yes…yessssssss…it burns!’ he screamed. You know that scream. It tears you completely in half. Your baby is hurt badly and there’s not one thing you can do right now to reverse it.
I had already got him through the back door as the scream intensified, and before it had reached its fever pitch, he was out of his pj bottoms and into the cold shower. The tiny blister at the base of the burn had burst, probably while taking his bottoms off, but giving a six-year-old boy his due, he bore the ice cold shower pretty well for the 25-30 minutes I knew that burn would need.
Dosed up and put to bed, he thankfully slept all night. I needed a gin…but life doesn’t give you gin* when you’re unemployed.
Thankfully, that was the only blister. The rest is healing beautifully.
Not content with that amount of excitement in a week, last night one of the electric rings on the cooker exploded, blowing a hole in my small cast iron frying pan, and nearly taking out my husband’s eye in a shower of white hot metal. According to Eldest, who saw it go off, it looked like a firework had gone off.
Can we just be left alone now? Please? I am so very completely actually done, you could stick a fork in me.
* specifically Bombay Sapphire. I am sure you can still buy Mother’s Little Helper if you’re prepared to compromise…I’m not!