"If the other person injures you, you may forget the injury; but if you injure him you will always remember." -Khalil Gibran
Yesterday I did my first big owie cleanup as a mom, and it was not particularly fun. I tried to just clean her owies with cool water and a washcloth, but I could tell they needed the dreaded peroxide. I poured peroxide over her knee, explaining that it would fizz and clean the owie, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her it would hurt. She was already limping around the house pretty pathetically, and I knew she would panic if I told her ahead of time. But of course, she still panicked when the peroxide got in there, and who can blame her? All I could do was hold her hand and tell her it would stop stinging in a minute, but boy, in that moment, I sure felt like a traitor.
It brought me back to the first time I had to pour peroxide over my own cut for the first time in college; it was like my second day of being moved out of the house, I had just gotten my first ticket that day, so I was already pretty stressed out. Then I just about took off a toenail when it caught on the big, heavy door to my dorm building, and stood there crying in front of the bathroom sink while I poured peroxide on it. It sunk in for me at that moment that I was a real grownup, I had to take care of my own boo-boos, and that was going to suck!
It's summer, and my girl is on a growing spree as usual, so I know this was only the first of the owies I'll have to take care of. Can I just say, I'm not looking forward to it?