Warning: if you are squeamish, you may want to skip this entry.
Have you ever been in a car accident? You know how the sound of crushing metal is permanently etched in your memory? That’s how the sound of plywood sheets breaking is for me. I could pick out that sound even if given dozens to choose from.
I heard it, but I didn’t really want to investigate. The logical part of my brain knew someone had fallen through the front porch…again, but the emotional part didn’t want to know who.
I managed to force my feet to move out onto the porch floor beams and hesitantly peek around the corner, looking for the newest victim.
My doctor-mom instincts began looking for signs of injury….
ok, he’s moving…he didn’t fall through the porch, just on it…pants are ripped…face has dirt under the eye…he’s talking and the floor is stable.
“Are you ok?” I ask.
“I think so.” he replies.
“What were you thinking?! Sam fell through the porch in that exact same spot!!!” I yell.
He starts to stand and says, “this is embarrassing” as he accesses that his pants are ripped all the way trough the seat. As he gingerly moves closer to me, I notice that what I first believed to be dirt under his right eye, is actually a bruise. The closer he comes to me, the bigger his eye is swelling. By the time we are back inside the house he looks like his twin is growing out of his face. It’s the kind of injury you can’t look at without feeling innate pain. You get that little pull in your lower stomach and your mind will only look at it from the periphereal.
And yes, you did read right, Sam fell through the porch in the same spot four days earlier. He had bruises and scratches that can only be described as “skid marks” down both of his sides. I know what you are thinking…keep them off the porch! Really? Why didn’t I think of that? Insert sarcastic eye roll here.
They are 10 and 7-years-old and frankly know better. However, laziness won over smarts in these instances. See, they would have had to walk all the way around the house to get to the first floor, and why expend that much energy when they could just climb up on the porch skeleton and save some sweat? After all, Ian does it, and never falls.
Because Ian is like a cat….unless he is being held by one of his brothers when he performs circus acts.
On July 4th, Ian and Sam decide to hold hands while jumping into the pool. This act is explictly forbidden, and they all know it. But Grant wanted to snap a pic of them jumping, so the warning was ignored… just this one time, I mean what’s the worst that could happen?
Ian jumped, Sam didn’t. This decision sent Ian swinging back into the stone wall…using his face to stop him. Sam lets go after Ian hits the wall…Ian falls into the water. Blood. Crying.
How can one person bite all the way through their lip twice in one lifetime?
An hour later we find an open ER and after some Dermabond, Ian is ready to swim again. He posed with a sad face on the gurney…you know, to use as blackmail with his guilty older brothers. I’m pretty sure I could have used superglue to fix his lip and it would have only cost $4.
The framers are finished until our porch wood arrives. The painters are very busy painting the outside of the house. The plumbing and propane lines are finished. The electrician is finishing up this week.
Girls are still at neighbors, but t-posts has been installed. Up next? Gate and hopefully calves!