A followup on the consequences of punching a wall...

Originally posted at my old blog, archived for posterity...

Oh, yeah. You knew it.


My right hand is broken. It's a boxer's fracture: A bone in the knuckle of the pinky, and a fracture in the meticarpule itself.

At least I don't have a full cast on...just a half-splint that I can remove to shower.

Doesn't hurt, but it's a life lesson...for both me and my kid.

Oh, well...

The consequences of punching a wall

Originally posted on my old blog, archived here for posterity.

Another tale of raising an 80-year old kid...

My hand hurts.

Of course, when one proceeds to punch a hard wall (although, in my defense, it was carpeted and I believed it to be well paded...which it wasn't), one should expect pain afterwards.

Punching things isn't the smartest thing to do, but when you're angry, upset, or mad, rational thought isn't exactly at the forefront of one's mind.

But yeah, I punched a wall today...all right, it was more of a partition...and now I'm paying for it. My hand's swollen, and while my pinkie hurts, I do have full range of motion and can use my hand, albiet with only a minor amount of pain.

So, I'll bet you're wondering what could nake me do something really stupid like punch a partition?

My kid. If you're not sure what I'm referring to, please check my last journal entry.

My kid has an obsession with the yard. If it's messy, uncut, out of sorts, she hates it. Wait...this is a good use of bold...hates it. With a passion. And I won't hear the end of it until the grass is cut and everything looks neat.

Well, it's getting close to Winter. Days are shorter. I haven't had time to cut the grass, and I figured it was going to get covered with snow soon, so there was no sense in cutting the grass.

My kid figured otherwise.

She called me at lunchtime and told me she'd cut the grass. Needless to say, I went ballistic.

I was so mad, I couldn't talk to her. I had to put down the phone and walk it off.

Please let me state this before I go further: Yes, I have a temper, but 99% of the time, I can keep it under control. When I do feel the need to express it, I generally kick things, always inanimate objects, like doors, walls and boxes. I was so...angry...that I had to lash out at something, and the victim of my blind anger was a discarded partition wall.

What can I say? It had carpeting on it. I thought it was padded...but I was proven wrong.

It was the first time in my 38 years on this planet I ever truly...really and truly...punched something with all my strength. Probably the last time I'll do it too.

I called my kid back to apologize. She'd been crying...she knew I was upset with her, and couldn't understand why. I told her I shouldn't have been angry, and I was sorry.

She couldn't remember why I was angry with her...

I told her she'd told me she went to cut the grass. She can't see that well and she can't walk that well, and carrying a heavy (electric) lawnmower up the stairs from our basement might have been deadly...that, more than anything, was what upset me.

I've assured her I'm not mad at her. She's accepted it, and she's trying to calm back down.

So, right now, my hand hurts. There's a good bit of swelling, but I can still type. I'll consider this a reminder than, when you have kids, you've gotta take your time and be rational, not angry, because there are always consequences to our actions.

I'll get the hang of this parenting thing yet.

I have a kid

This is an archived post from my old blog.

I have a kid.

Granted, this isn't a spectacular revelation. Many people in the world have kids, so that doesn't make me any better or worse than anyone else.

However, my kid is a little different. She has problems with her health...so she has some special needs, and requires a bit more attention than other kids her age.

She can't see that well. She has trouble walking. She doesn't have the best memory in the world. She's got diabetes. She needs help in doing the littlest things sometimes, even something as simple as getting up off the couch. So I'm there to help her whenever and however I can.

She needs a bit more attention than some other kids might, but she's my kid, and I love her with all my heart.

Taking care of my kid sometimes seems like a full-time job, but I don't look at it that way. Despite the fact that I'm still somewhat young (although, at 38, I feel older than I should), I don't go out like some folks my age do.

I come home from work because my kid is lonely and she needs a little attention. She's fairly self-sufficient...I don't need to put her in a daycare...and my neighbors help out by keeping an eye on her for me while I'm at work. They love her just as much as I do.

Sometimes she gets sick. She forgets where she is, what day it is, what time it is, what she should be doing. I do my level best to be calm and reassuring, and try to tell her not to worry about things and to relax, but it can be very frustrating. I never did like to repeat myself, and there are times I'll have to tell her something over and over and over and it still doesn't sink in. It doesn't happen too often, thank goodness, but when it happens, it can be very stressful on the both of us.

She's got her fair share of doctor's visits, and thankfully, I'm in a job where I can get the time off to take her where she needs to go. From her "regular" doctor, to the Ophthalmologist, to the Urologist, to the Podiatrist...sometimes, it just seems like it's a never-ending stream of doctors. But it's all right. I'm there with her, to help her remember what she needs to remember, to tell the docs, and it's quality time for us, even if it a waiting game sometimes.

My kid's seen her share of highs and lows. She recently lost her sister, which has hurt her deeply. It's not easy to lose someone you're so close to...especially when it's your baby sister. She's been crying...a lot...but I hope she's come to accept that her sister is no longer hurting and is in a better place.

You never want to see your kids suffer, and there are times, when I see her in pain, unable to walk up a flight of stairs or struggle to see something, that it breaks my heart. I want to help her, but I can't do everything for her, so I just stand there and smile and be there when she needs her.

Yeah, taking care of my kid is a full-time job, and it has...cost...me. I've lost friends, lost women I've loved, because I've had to put my kid first. I've tried to explain to them that she is a part of my life, but it's not easy. They don't feel like they're first in my life, and although I've tried to reassure them that they are in my heart, it doesn't help. Yeah, it hurts...it hurts both of us...so I've had to give up a little of my happiness for my kid. I only pray that someday the women I've loved and lost understand that, and they forgive me. Maybe someday, I can forgive myself.

I have a kid. My kid is 80 years old.

She's my mother.

Don't get me wrong and don't misunderstand what I'm saying here. I love my mother. I'm happy to be able to help her any way I can.

It's just that the whole parent-child relationship has changed over the years, as she's grown older and has had more problems develop. I've had to take over some roles that she did for years.

All I'm saying is...I have a kid. She's the apple of my eye. Anyone else who has had kids...whether they be their own, or their parents...will understand exactly what I mean.

I'd move Heaven and Earth for her, I'd do anything within my power to help her while she's still here. Yes, I would love to be able to share my life with another...and maybe someday, I can, but for now...I am where I'm needed. This is my life, for good or ill.

I have a kid. And I love her.