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Now, all of that said, I have this ridiculous gigantic splint on my right hand and half of my forearm that makes everything quite hilarious. God bless Geoffrey Hart and his patience for having to do things like tie my shoes, cut my fruit, and put my hair into a ponytail. I feel like a preschooler. The seemingly awesome request of “can you strip me down and tie me up?” only refers to helping me unzip my sweatshirt and securing a plastic bag over my splint so I can attempt to shower. Add in the fact that I just got toothpaste all over my face trying to brush with my left hand, I can’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness over the fact that I did this during a BOX JUMP.
So many people, including their father, my BFF, and probably 100 others who have no idea what they are talking about, seem to think that my complete lack of outward emotion or even mentioning of it seem to signal I’ve grown distant or complacent about the situation. That I’ve become accustomed to life without kid-responsibilities. Honestly, I can’t blame them, as I would probably think the same if I was on the outside looking in. The truth is, I would give anything to have my 4 year old wake me up at 3 am, and then 3:15 am, and then 3:30 am for the most ridiculous reasons. I miss the sibling throw downs I have to referee, I miss the whining, I miss the messes, and more than anything I miss the hugs and kisses. But life isn’t always perfect. There are only 2 people in this world who know the whole truth of this situation, and only one of them knows how it really knocked me off my feet. A lot of healing had to happen, a lot of pieces are still being picked up off the floor and put back where they are supposed to be. And now it is solely a financial issue, but soon enough my boys and I will be together again.