Dear Diary,
Last month we broke Luca’s leg… Well not really, we didn’t technically break her leg. We just provided the environment for her to do it on and her little leg did the rest. I say this now so casually because she’s all healed and running around again, but at the time I can’t even articulate to you the parental guilt, shame and heartbreak that we felt.
We had planned to give her a massive trampoline for her second birthday -which was last week- but our minds were quickly changed after the Lorne trampoline accident and instead we bought her the safety of a kite instead.
Luca was an absolute legend right from the moment she snapped her bone. She was so cool about it, we actually thought it was only a sprained ankle and iced it all that day. Idiots!
It wasn’t until waking the next morning when we popped her on the ground, lifting her out of the cot, that we realised, shit! It wasn’t her ankle. And then she proceeded to tell us ‘Sore knee, sore knee” and we were like “OMG not the knee”.
But we still weren’t convinced it was a broken bone though because she never cried, winced in pain or sooked like I imagined I would be doing if I was in her situation. She took it like an absolute champion. Just sat on the couch happily giggling, playing… and watching t.v. (It goes without saying that we introduced her to television during this period. She’s really developed a deep love for Thomas the Tank Engine and her obsession with Emma Wiggle is growing rapidly. All she wants is bows in her hair and tutus. I never would of guessed I’d have a little girly girl, but low-and-behold after this broken leg incident I have been left with a horse and train obsessed, tutu wearing ballerina, girly girl.) Bless.
So after finally convincing ourselves it was something more sinister than a sprain we took her to the doc’s for some x-rays…just to to be safe.
I anxiously waited outside the x-ray room and listened to her frightened cries as the radioactive machine took pictures of her bones.
I knew it was bad when Lach came out cradling her, white as a ghost with heartbreak written all over his face. “It’s broken” he whimpered to me as he cuddled her tightly. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe it was actually broken. A clean break.
The guilt punched me in the stomach so fast I had the wind taken out of me and to hold myself together I had to bend forward and catch my breath. Broken! I just couldn’t believe it. She’s too young to have a broken leg. I thought to myself, “Ok, I can either lose my shit right here or pull it together and be a warrior woman who takes charge and runs the shit out of the situation… and by the looks of poor pale Lach, he was definitely not presenting himself as being the warrior on this particular occasion. (He was the one bouncing on the tramp with her when IT happened, so more guilt riddled him).
So, I mouthed a little prayer to myself, took a deep breath, stood up and got on with it. What ever had to be done and organised was done and organised and done in a surprisingly calm manner. Usually I’d be beside myself but I was surprising myself at how cool I was taking this. The whole time relaying to Lach that, “she’s ok, we’re ok, it could be much, much worse. It’s only a broken a leg”. And when I listened to myself putting it in that perspective, I actually felt really ok about the situation. After all, it was only a broken leg. We were all still alive and breathing. It wasn’t terminal, it’s just a superficial break. It will heal. She will heal. WE will heal. People have it much, much worse and this will soon be a distant memory.
And sure enough 5 weeks later, today, it is just that. A memory. Her broken cast that was sawn off sits neatly on the top shelf of a dark cupboard awaiting to become a future ‘show’n’tell’ presentation for her school days. She’s completely healed and running around on it. We do however find ourselves being extra careful and bubble wrapping her a bit more these days.
But aside from broken legs, she’s also turned two. The time has flown, as all parents say and indeed we can’t believe our little baby bird is two. Walking and talking and telling us what she wants, and doesn’t want. My mind is blown everyday with what comes out of her mouth. It’s like every night when she goes to sleep her little brain downloads the day’s information and when she wakes she’s loaded with new concepts, whole sentences and refined her demands and commands. Like when Keanu Reeves downloads all those self defence apps in the movie The Matrix. I wish it was that easy. I also wonder if I was like this as a child. You know, a legend. She fascinates me that daughter of ours.
She even woke up the other morning, looked straight up at Lach and blatantly and boldly said “Luca can talk now”. Like she’d completely downloaded the skill of the english language over night. Weird as!
And moving on…
We’re currently living in a caravan at the moment. We’ve taken ourselves out of the rat race for 3 months to enjoy a bit of slow living before our next baby enters our world. To spend some quality time together as a 3. We’re venturing up the east coast until September. Lach quit his job and we’re full gyspying it. Last night was our first night on the road. When we were planning this trip I didn’t picture the first day to pan out as it did. I thought we’d be in happy, high spirits but no. No! No we were definitely not in high spirits. None of us were. The last minute dash around the house to clean up ready for the renters, packing last minute things into the van, fixing and greasing the trailer, bossing each other around, rubbishing each others ideas and stashing bits and pieces here and there left us all emotional, worn out and exhausted and a little bit spiteful with each other to tell you the truth.
Our planned 10am departure turned into 1pm and Lach and I sat in our grumpiness and silence for at least half an hour before the dust settled and we could talk to each other normally again.
Our first stop was in Deniliquin, at a mates house…The entire trip we were gifted with the pleasure of listening to Luca whinge and cry that she wanted to “go home” which was making us nervous for the planned 3 months we had ahead of us. After running out of snacks we finally pulled in the driveway at 8pm and for our future reference we now know that a 5 hour car drive quickly becomes a 7 hour trip when a toddler is onboard.
It was 2 degrees in Deni when we arrived. Foggy, icey and bone chillingly cold. Luca needed to be put to bed and so did I. I was grumpy again. Freezing, tired and worried about how Luca’s first night sleeping in the van would pan out. I was imagining being stuck sharing our bed for the night and I was not looking forward to sharing my bed with my husband, my restless daughter, my ever growing baby belly and my long sausage pregnancy pillow. I was preparing for no sleep and this was making me even grumpier. We quickly plugged our electrics in, pumped the heater and prepped for immediate bed. Luca went down like a charm, walking herself into bed even. She shocks me every time. She did however proceed to tap on the top bunk ceiling above her novelly until she passed out 10 minutes later and then she slept soundly until 6.30am. Win!
But I lay awake all night listening to the loud, stupid, donkey of a heater, loudly turn off and on, off and on, trying ever so hard to beat the imposing frost that was icing us like a cake. And our mattress is hard. Like sleeping on cardboard hard. My hip bones went numb from pregnant sleeping on my sides all night. Tossing and turning, I lay there awaiting the dawn. Don’t you just love those nights. You know, when you think it’d just be easier to get up rather than fight sleep all night.
I have a headache today. I feel hung over. I’m still tired and still cold. The heater isn’t super efficient and I’m currently tucked up in bed with blankets on, my woolies and a beanie as I type this at 11am.
I can however, hear beautiful birds calling out by the riverside which is 20 meters away from the van. I threw off my blankets this morning defeated by sleep as the first kookaburras laughed the morning in. That was nice!
My first caravan coffee was nice too. And our warm porridge. And the fact that Lach has taken Luca into town to purchase a mattress topper so I can get some rest…Now that is bloody lovely.
So things are looking up.
And after our first chilly night in the van, we’ve now decided to skip parts of our trip and get the heck out of the cold and bust a move to get above Sydney, where the sun is shining a little more warmly than here.
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