Bumps and Bruises

It seems nowadays that you have two types of extreme parenting.  On one side you have the parents that couldn’t care less where their kids are, what they are doing, and if they are playing in traffic.  Then you have the other side, the parents that don’t let their kids do anything.  Mowing the grass is too hard; helping carry groceries is too strenuous, playing outside is too dangerous.  I try to strive to be in the middle ground.  I care about what my kids are doing, I have rules about helmets being worn, and no one is allowed near or on the road.  Both kids help carry in groceries, and no one is old enough to mow the grass yet.  My point is you have to let kids be kids.  Kids get bumps and bruises.  Some may even fall and require stitches and casts.  Hopefully the latter doesn’t happen all of the time, but it’s not the end of the world if it does.   Pick them up, dust them off, and give them a gentle shove back into the world.  If they can’t handle the bumps and bruises as children, how are they going to handle the hurdles of adulthood?

When my daughter was a baby, she loved to chew on a big pink rubber safety pin when she was teething.  And being my first child, I would go through the necessary freak out when said pin would hit the floor or the ground.  I would take it away until I could thoroughly wash and disinfect it.  We went to see our pediatrician for a monthly checkup and naturally she was chewing on her pin.  Of course, as with anything that goes in the mouth, it fell to the floor.  I picked it up and put it aside, thinking I would probably have to roast it over an open fire to rid it of the nastiness that may inhabit a doctor’s office floor.  Our pediatrician shook his head, reached over me, wiped the pin on his pants and gave it back to my daughter.  Meanwhile, the look of horror on my face must have been overwhelming, because the doctor just smiled and said “good for the immune system.”  He told me that someday I would learn.  First child, you boil and sterilize everything, second child you may rinse it off, third child, you dust it off and give it back.  I didn’t make it to three children, but two was enough to convince me.  Especially with some of the horrors I’ve seen my kids do, and they are still living to tell the tale.  I have witnessed my daughter giving her princess dolls a bath in the toilet, and I have observed my son eat a grape off the floor at Kohl’s.  Both are still going strong, and both have had very few illnesses in their lives. 

Both of my kids have also been very lucky in the injury department.  No broken bones to report, and no stitches as of yet.  They are outside all year round, playing in the sandbox, on their bikes, on the tire swing, and on the playscape.  We’ve had some minor medical situations, like bee stings, and some poison ivy.  Both my kids are blessed with the gracefulness of raging alcoholics, a trait most likely inherited from me.  They fall constantly are their legs are covered in bruises.  My son has fallen off of his high chair, out of bed, and off of the couch.  My daughter has fallen from the monkey bars, off of her bike, out of bed, off of chairs, and has tripped over shadows.  Even the dog will trip over herself, and then look back to see what she tripped on.  There is no hope in this household of an injury free day and on most days we look like the walking wounded. 

What is the funniest out of all though, is when you think about what you did when you were a kid, and you say “I would never let my kids do that.”  Every parent says this to themselves, and it can be traced back through generations.  My mother remembers when she was a kid, she used to collect the mercury from my grandmother’s broken thermometers.  She kept it in a little box and would play with it on occasion.  She also remembers playing out in the yard with her siblings and drinking out of the run-off pond when they were thirsty.  When I was a kid, I remember falling off my bike and out of trees, and I even fell off of a deck once.  I remember standing up in the middle of my mother’s car while she was driving.  No one wore seat belts back then.  Now, we don’t move the car unless all seat belts are fastened.  But we are both still alive and kicking, amazed at how so much has changed and wondering how we made it through childhood without major illness or injury. 

In all, there is only so much that you can protect your kids from.  Bumps and bruises, coughs and sneezes, blisters and cuts, these are part of a normal childhood.  No child is blessed with the gracefulness of a swan, or the immune system of a sewer rat.  Just keep your medicine cabinet well stocked with Neosporin, Band-Aids, and Robitussin and all will be right with the world.