I should have forseen the fireworks show based on how the rest of our day was going...
I was feeling rushed, which I regret. Always regret. Because I was making too many things at one time, one of which was an obnoxious American flag cake that I was certain would become a tradition. Always looking for traditions, and they always tend to revolve around obnoxious cakes. I rushed off with the kids to go to the Frontier Culture Museum (because it was FREE) and met mom, Taylor, Kelly, and Eleanor. If I listened to my gut, I wouldn't have gone. I felt rushed and hurried and a little edgy. And hot. It was really hot. But once we were there, the kids loved it. Especially the West African Village. A bunch of mud huts, just their size. They could have stayed for hours. We walked around, checked out the animals and watched the blacksmith hammer a hook. Then we headed home for lunch, naps, and finishing up some cooking/baking.
Naps went well. Then the storm clouds started rolling in. I was already prepping myself for what we would tell the kids if the fireworks were cancelled. Then it started raining. We went to Taylor and Kelly's for a cookout...inside...and then I continued to prep Isabella on the idea that maybe we wouldn't be seeing fireworks. She burst into tears (of course) and Kelly called someone and discovered that they were still on. The kids rushed to get into their pajamas, we loaded up the cars and headed over to MBC. We figured a very pregnant Gen probably shouldn't be hiking up a slippery, steep hill to our usual spot on the Gypsy Hill golf course. The guys were completely uninterested in going (again, should have paid attention to the signs), but we were there and it was fine.
Fine until Declan, who is prone to burning himself, burnt his fingers on a sparkler. Go figure-a sparkler. I saw him from the corner of my eye, rubbing it on the ground and immediatly thought, he shouldn't be doing that. No sooner did I have the thought, he leaned over, picked it up and let out the loudest cry possible. And for him, that's loud because the boy can cry. He started waving his hands, inconsolable, unable to explain where it hurt, just completely miserable. The fireworks started and were lovely--if you could see them behind the thick cloud cover and fog. Totally unimpressed and exhausted, we left as Gen held Declan and I held his arm so that his fingers were plastered against the air conditioning vent. That was the only way we could get him to stop crying, other than the time mom got him to stop by walking him around MBC and working some sorta Mia miracle to make him stop screaming bloody murder.
Anyway, we got some ointment, wrapped them up and he fell asleep on the way home as I held his arm as high as possible to reach his tiny, bandaged fingers up to the vent. I felt awful. Awful for not stopping him as soon as I saw him put the sparkler to the ground. Awful for feeling like I wanted to scream when he was screaming. Awful for thinking he was over-reacting (I did think he just burned the tip of his thumb, NOT three fingers!). And awful for the pain he was in.
Do you ever try to just will the pain away from your kids? As I sat there holding his fingers, I really was just wishing that I could have his pain. I wanted to blow on his finger tips and make it better. I wanted to pull that burning from his soft hand and place it anywhere on me. When I was young and had migraines a lot, I remember my mom holding my head in her lap and telling me that she wished she could take my pain. She would press her face against ours if we had a fever, willing the heat to transfer to her body. We can't take the pain from our babies. Lessen it, maybe. Just love and support, definitly.
I'm pretty sure no one will be on board next year when July 4th comes along and I'm telling everyone that we're going to the park for fireworks! I already heard two certain people scheming against me and planning a shin-dig that does not at all involve fire or sitting on a wet hill at 10 pm with three toddlers and a baby.
It was a bust. I can't even make it sound a little flowery. But some days are just busts. And that's when you dig deep, find the silver lining and focus on the right, not the wrong. We had great food and the kids had fun playing together. They threw pop-its, which appear to be the greatest things on earth. They enjoyed the excitement of staying up late and being outside in the dark, damp evening. Sure we had some injuries, but we also had some great snuggles as a result. Lots of hand holding, tight hugs, sweet sleeping noises, and the knowledge that there's always next time. And I will show Isabella what REAL fireworks are like!
Tomorrow this little bug turns one. I remember exactly how I felt at exactly this time last year. And unaware of how she would look and feel, four and a half hours from now I held this sweet little girl for the first time. I remember that feeling. I will never forget her look. I crave her sweet, tiny body all wrapped up in our arms. One year ago....it's hard to believe.
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