So, something pretty surprising happened around here the other weekend. The boys were off on a bike ride with dad (NOT mom, just to be clear). B being oh so (read too) confident on his balance bike went off ahead, flying down a hill without a care in the world. A stop sign paired with a blind corner prompted M to yell ‘stop stop!‘ and B did, like immediately, by twisting the handle 180 degrees. Off he flew over the front.

Thank God for helmets because we would have been off to the ER. Instead we were on the couch nursing numerous bumps, bruises, a road rash or two, and the fattest lip I’ve ever seen. Like, ever.

The worst part of this all? Well, it wasn’t the most surprising part of our weekend. Yep. I’ve almost come to expect these types of incidents with B. In his short little life, he’s had 9 stitches, been bit by a dog, dropped a full can of paint on his toe, cut open the top of his head from a cabinet corner, and now we can add bicycling extremist to the list. Yes. I have that kid.

The worst was around 18 months. I honestly wanted to put a helmet on him full time and I contemplated it often. I felt like we were living just a mere moment away from an ER visit at any given time. Not good for mom and dad’s nerves. The only time I could take a true deep breath was when he was blissfully asleep in his crib. He was safe and by safe I mean caged in. During the day, I had to be a step ahead of him at all times which is obviously, impossible, hence the history of injuries.

But we’ve made it so far. He turns three (!!!) this August and is still, for the most part, in one complete piece with a few added scars on the face. So, what exactly was the surprising part?

He hasn’t had his pacifier since the incident.

I’m not one to celebrate this accident happening, but there is a massive silver lining here. A gift, if you will. This kid was attached. And we had reached the age where it probably wasn’t the best to be attached. Especially since he is taller than some 4 year olds. I kept telling myself, after the next vacation I’d take it away (I couldn’t imagine traveling without it), but then we kept going away so it stuck around. Finally we hit spring break, our last vacation until late June. That gave me time to wean him off. Good plan C.

And yet it was still around. (AKA: mom is lazy). He’d have it on our morning walk, car rides, his nap, night time, and any time he got tired, annoyed, hurt, etc., which, obviously at age 2, was often. I didn’t even know how to begin to take it away, and I knew his sense of attachment combined with his stubbornness and flair for the dramatic would just equal one loooooong week for mom. Bummer. And yet then, just like that, his lip hurt too much to use and it was ::poof:: gone.

He hasn’t asked for it once since and is going about business as usual. Well, with a scabby face, of course. 

There aren’t many stages in motherhood that are easy. You aren’t typically handed a break too often with little ones. There is a lot of good, bad, painful, blissful, awesome, tearjerking work that goes into the stages of getting them (alive) from infant to baby to toddler to preschooler to elementary. So, I’m basking in the glory of this one. Hallelujah. The pacifier is gone and I didn’t do a darn thing. 

Well, aside from ice his lip for a good 48 hours. Hey, I’ll take it.