It’s official — we get the “Household of the Year” award.
I can officially Tweet about myself #momofthreeboys; #ER-veteran; #areyoukiddingme?
I am lobbying for Emergency Room Fast Passes (not to coin a phrase used by the Disney Corporation). We have officially now taken all three boys to the emergency room for stitches and/or staples. Since birthing my three angels, I go into the ER, almost like a guilty suspect in a bank robbery would walk out of the bank with their hands above their head. But instead I walk in saying what a great mom I am, and that our house is safe, and that CPS doesn’t need to come pay us a visit, it is just a house filled with three boys. I say it with a smile, so they don’t think I am some lunatic damaging my children, or neglecting them.
I am thinking that maybe they need to have our files on hand — just to the right of their computers — knowing the Daviss boys will be paying a visit at some point in time that month. I have been so often that I feel like I deserve a punch card, so on my 10th visit I should get something free, like a cup of coffee, a roll of bubble wrap to wrap my children in, or a free add-on to our house that has a padded room so they can all play and not damage each other.
This however, was the first sibling-inflicted wound. The other two cases have been pretty much self-inflicted. The baby fell about a year ago, just walking across the parking lot, and a small pebble lodged in his forehead requiring stitches. And the oldest was about 8 when his incident happened. He was talking horseback riding lessons, the horse spooked, and off he went clipping his little face on horse’s hoof creating a need for stitches in his chin.
This past Friday night was a little chaotic in my household. I had just returned home to my mom baby-sitting my boys, because I was at a visitation for the grandmother of one of my best friends who had sadly passed away.
My oldest had come home from school that day with a 102 temperature, so he was snuggled in bed with soup, ibuprofen, and sleeping soundly; and the little ones were just playing joyfully with grandma. Then about 10 minutes after being home my oldest woke up needing me, and the babies were playing in my room. I was away from them for maybe three minutes to take the oldest one’s temperature. All of the sudden, a scream echoed through the house. It was loud, but a normal scream from someone hitting someone else, or stealing someone’s truck. I did immediately go survey the situation — the middle one said “He threw his sippy cup at my head Mommy.” I thought, “OK, this has happened before.” So I put the laundry down, walked over to give him a quick “Mommy makes it all better” kiss. But as I approached him, his entire left shirt shoulder was covered in blood.
Of course my husband was out of town for work, so I called the parentals back to now watch the oldest and youngest, and off I went to the ER with bloody head and grandpa in tow this time.
As we pulled up to the ER, I knew the routine — fill out the paperwork, get a wrist band for myself and the baby, wait for triage, and head on back. Once in the back, the doctors were great and my little man was a trooper. He took it like a champ. The nurse had to ask him if he felt safe at home, and his response was very clear — “Yes, but sometimes my brothers take my toys from me.” So you see it’s all relative.
Like I always say, I don’t know what I would do if I had a girl, but when I was pregnant with my third child, one of my girlfriend’s just knew it was another boy, and she cordially welcomed me to the “Mom of Three Boys Club.” I wasn’t sure why she said it with a smirk on her face, but I know why now.
The joys of motherhood is definitely a ride, but the thrill is being a mom of all boys. All I can do is hang on tight, and pray for their safety every single day. Even though they are rough and tumble, their hearts are filled with a devotion and admiration for their mommy like no other.
Samantha Stroube-Daviss is a Daily Sun columnist. Her column appears on Thursdays. She may be reached by email at email@example.com. Read her blog at samantha-daviss.blogspot.com, and follow her on Twitter @SamanthaDaviss1. Want to “Soundoff” on this column? Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
It’s official — we get the “Household of the Year” award.
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