DO Steal My Thunder: Remembering

I'll pay you a dollar if you go on the Lazy River... I said to one of my Grands while we were at a nearby pool together. 

The deluxe, indoor city pool had bells and whistles, like a tall spiral slide and a lap pool lane with a gentle current called "Lazy River." On-and-off during our 2-hour swim I tried to bribe our almost 5-year-old to experience the Lazy River, but received the same unwavering answer: No. He was too short for the slide, so it seemed like an activity he would love. Perplexed, I persisted. We will stand right next to you the whole time, on either side of you.

Just a few days later the reason for his insistent No's came to light. In Colorado, just the month before, our boy was excited to go on a water park ride with the exact same name, "Lazy River." People floated the narrow and slow current on individual-sized circular inner tubes. His little booty slipped down and into the center of his tube, trapping him more than momentarily, with the water level almost to his mouth and nose. He couldn't push his body back up, and that helpless feeling naturally terrified him enough to remember. 

After Lazy River, our Grand would claim
"There is no spoon," or Mermaid

A pre-kindergartner's lesson from that scary event: Since boys are not fish and rescue mermaids are just pretend, DO steal my thunder. It doesn't matter how much fun Lazy River is, it is called Lazy River. Even though the ride has no inner tubes. Still, no way. 

Poor little guy! I tried to bribe him into what he remembered as an unsafe position, to potentially put him back into a flashback situation fighting for his life, (call it deja-vu or PTSD-in-the-line-of-emotional-fire fear... it was real). He learned to not trust any Lazy River. If, on the other hand, his lesson was to never trust adults or swimming, that would be called neurotic. So, eventually he will be fine. Less than one month was way too soon for him to climb back up on the saddle. His respect for water will hopefully remain, but the fear will subside.

To remember is to learn from, especially after major life events, and eventually move on. A still-fresh trauma remains vivid in my memory. It was a super stupid in-home fall, on February 26th, causing a wrist fracture, with a less than satisfactory healing, leaving some everyday wrist motions uncomfortable and tight (i.e., the essential wrist pivot needed to comfortably chop vegetables or slice foods, wiping surfaces, and a variety of other tasks). In other words, it's a good thing chef-ing and window washing are not my day jobs.

During the first few weeks and months, like our little Grand's fear but in a daily way, it was basic maneuvering that felt unsafe. Falling again felt like a very real possibility. Moving through each day, sitting and taking the steps, all felt unsteady and scary. It is easy to feel that way, because the accident was random. It didn't happen while performing a fun or dare-devil stunt; just living, simply and soberly. Turning and simultaneously lowering to sit, into one of our home office chairs; over-shooting the chair because of a defective slipper's toe stub; with a backwards down, down, down trajectory and thud to the ground. The heart pounds wildly and, Oh, no, my hips! Thankfully, the booty's shock absorbers heroically managed the jolt. But one look at a disfigured right hand, and there was no doubt. Despite feeling only minor pain, a trip to Urgent Care was needed.

The fall brought some learning lessons: To turn or pivot first and then sit more intentionally (no pirouette spins at this age); to throw away toe-tip-compromised slippers (even though they were most comfortable); to notice when I feel a bit light-headed because of dehydration or eating fresh mushrooms (they affect balance); to not take for granted my never-injured arm (accomplishing tasks never imagined, like dressing one-handed, and other challenges that non-dominant, rock-star "Lefty" rarely before faced); to slow down, even when late for work or rushed; and, to enjoy every day. No.Lingering.Neuroticism...

Well, maybe just a little neuroticism, especially after almost falling again the other day. It was work-related, inspecting an unfamiliar older rental house. Backing up and forgetting a solo upward step (a crazy place for just one step, but that is part of the unusual quaint-factor of older houses). I was jolted off-balance into the beginnings of a backwards trajectory to down, down. The heart pounds wildly with fear, but somehow I managed to catch balance and not repeat a tumble like February's. It brought scary flashbacks, deja-vu, and self-scolding: Be.More.Careful!!! (Not very specific self-talk, but I knew what I meant and desperately meant it.)

And then, thinking ahead. If global warming holds off, slippery winter is on the horizon... Many of the falls that occur happen during snowy, icy winter. To live, and to love, and to love living, is to risk facing hazards and fear... to (potentially) figuratively fly! Accidents or scary experiences will, unfortunately, happen. If that is the case, healthy lessons can be learned from those events, remembering, and then moving on. 

To move on, mountains of Gilmore Girls-like chatty words combine into sentences, and then paragraphs, within blogs, and are published out into the blogosphere, that inspire others to fly. For example: Aren't daisies a most friendly flower? (You've Got Mail), and thunder rumblings are overwhelming and captivating!