There goes my date with Doug

The morning rush to the bus stop is a stressful time. In a space of 45 minutes, Asher must make his bed, brush his teeth, go to the bathroom AND wash his hands, get dressed and eat a healthy breakfast. Sounds easy enough, doesn't it? But anyone with small children knows how challenging that can be for everyone involved.

“Asher, do I have to ask you one more time to get dressed? Uch, fine! I’ll help you just so we can get out the door on time.”

We can’t be late for the bus. I know that if I drive Asher to school even once, we’re toast. He’ll never want to take the bus again. I was determined to get that kid dressed in record time even if it meant dressing him while he was playing on the Wii. When Asher is in front of the Wii, nothing else in the world exists, and usually that’s just the way we like it. At the crack of ass on a Sunday, we’ll do just about anything to ignore our children.

Asher creeps into our room and asks, “Mom? Can I play the Wii?”

“YES!! PLEASE!! FOR FUCK SAKE, PLAY THE WII!!”

Does it need to be said that we don’t actually drop the F-bomb around our kids? Yes? Well we don’t. Ok, MAYBE I occasionally mumble colourful strings of profanities under my breath, but I’m absolutely sure the children can’t hear me. What was that you just said?!? I couldn’t hear you chastising me because I was too busy cursing you for giving me that judgmental look. You know the one!

Asher didn’t flinch as I reached over him to pull his shirt over his head. He decided that he literally needed to throw himself into the game, and as I was about to crown him with the neck of his shirt he launched himself into the air with the velocity of a rocket blasting off into space. Asher did not manage to make it to the moon. His flight was aborted by my nose. Was that the sound of my bottom teeth smacking against the top teeth, or did something just crack? I ran out of that room so that I wouldn’t upset the boys (read so that I wouldn't swear like a truck driver in front of them), and the pain was monumental.

It was Levi who followed me into the bathroom. “You ok, mama?” “Yes, Levi. I’m ok.” LIES! I wanted to cry, but it hurt too much to frown. Asher was still on the Wii prioritising a high score to the well being of his mother. Gabriella was equally as empathetic. “You’re freaking Levi out, honey.” Nice.

I turned to the mirror to assess the situation. Is there blood? No. Are there any insides that are now on the outside? No. Is my nose still in the middle of my face or do I look like a Picasso painting come to life? No, seems to be in the same place. So far, so good. “You should put ice on it.” Gabriella says trying to recover. “No time. Have to get to the bus stop.” And so I rallied.

A few days later, and my nose is still complaining. Gabriella continues to push me to see a doctor, and I just might. Perhaps it would be worth it if our insurance covers a little shave off the top – for medical reasons, of course. We’ll see. In the meantime, there goes my date with Doug.