Playing with Scissors

So, when most kids get their hands on a pair of scissors they cut paper or, worst case scenario, hair. Well, not my kid. Tommy was sitting at the kitchen table cutting paper scraps into tiny little pieces. It looked like he was using the scissors properly so, I let him (also avoiding a potential meltdown). Jose walks in while Tiffany and I are in the kitchen making dinner. He carefully asks "Do you know Tommy has scissors?" In unison, Tiffany and I flippantly answer "Yes". Jose shrugs his shoulders and returns to the beer making activities in the garage. Not a minute later Tommy starts whining "Oh No! I beeding. Owie Mommy!" Earlier in the day he had a terrible nosebleed so I initially thought that his nose had started bleeding again. I look over and sure enough Tommy was bleeding. But not the same way he had been earlier. He had taken the scissors to his nose and sliced a perfect "U" shape into the tip of his nose. See exhibit A below. Oh the adventures we have in our home. (Please Note that this was and extremely minor incident with the potential for serious injury. We have since taken the proper precautions to prevent such things from happening again.)

In the middle of the night he starts crying and yelling. I go into his room to see what the matter is and when I ask, he just lays there and yells and cries. I plead with him to stop yelling and crying and to just tell me what's wrong. Why can't he just tell me what he needs?!? He just lays there looking at me and crying. Finally he says 'Ice water!'. I get his ice water, and he settles down. I kiss him goodnight and close the door. The moment I get back under the warm covers he starts at it again. I lay there for a minute silently hoping that he'll stop; trying desperately to telepathically communicate with him: "Tommy, shhhh, it's ok. Just settle down. Drink some water. Shhhh. You'll wake everyone up." I come to the realization that I have no telepathic abilities whatsoever because it is clearly not working. So, I get up and burst into his room and say "Tommy! Stop Yelling!" and when I reach his bed I notice that his nose has started bleeding again and it's all over his face and his pillow. I felt terrible. I cleaned him up, made him drink some ice water and turned his pillow over to the clean side (Yes, I should have changed the pillowcase but it was the middle of the night and I don't know if I have any extras anyway). So I asked him if he wanted me to hold him in my desperate attempt to clear my conscience of feeling like a bad mommy for yelling at him. He said "woking chair". So I took him into the living room and rocked him until he went to sleep. It was just what I needed. Looking down at his sweet face while he slept I thought about how these moments become less and less frequent as they grow older. I was astonished at how all of a sudden he was so big. The last time I rocked him like that he was half the size he is now. And, it wasn't very long ago that his head, that is now the size of a large melon, was once the size of a softball. I sat there rocking him for as long as I could keep my eyes open and told him that I was going to bring him back to his bed. He whispered "OK" and went right back to sleep. We both slept soundlessly for the rest of the night. I learned that what he needs is sometimes what I need too.

EXHIBIT A:

My Little Blonde Angel

I'm sure that you've noticed that Emma gets alot of airtime on my blog. As usual Tommy gets the back burner. I guess I feel a little guilty for not ever writing about just him. So here goes.
He is so sweet. He hates to go to bed and cries (yelling MAMA! for up to half an hour) every night. He even throws his board books out of his bed (they make a loud thud on the hard-wood floor that sounds like he fell out of the crib) hoping that this will make me come back to him. He is always happy to see me and loves to give hugs. He lets me eat up his legs. Those scrumptious little chubby legs. He is starting to talk more every day. He loves to eat. Anything, anytime. He loves bathtime and when I say 'Come on Tommy, it's time to take a bath.' he throws his hands up in the air and yells his version of 'BATHTIME!'. He loves lotion on his belly and can never resist tasting it. Every time. Even thought he knows it's tastes yucky, he has to put his lotion covered hand in his mouth. It must be laced with some addiction inducing drug. We read books and talk every night before bed. After we read, I turn him around on my lap to face me and I ask him about his day. He babbles on and on in a language only he can understand. I nod and say 'Did you have fun?' and he enthusiastically nods a big wide eyed 'Yes'. Then he tells me something about a ball and Daddy. I assume he is saying that he played ball with Daddy. I don't really care what he is saying anyway, I just love watching him talk. Then we say goodnight, give kisses and then he puts his head on my shoulder and sings. Who knows what song but I love it. Only one word can describe the way I feel about him. LOVE. Totally, completely, utterly, absolutely, perfectly in LOVE.