apple pie, poker & the afterglow of hardballs to the noggin
by bam
these odd chapters somehow always manage to creep up unawares. and so this one.
we were sitting the other eve, forks in mid-lift, i’m certain, when suddenly a skinny pair of sun-browned legs came swishing through the steamy jungle that these days is my secret tangled garden, the one tucked along the side of this old house. not many lopes behind him came another pair of legs, grown-up legs, a mother’s legs. but not his mother’s.
while it took my brain cells a spell or two to shake all this out, it all came tumbling clear once i saw the look of dazed despair on the little one’s face, and the ashen worry on the mama trailing just behind. then i saw the boy holding something to his dust-splattered head, and i needed little explanation to reach the quick conclusion that this was not how the evening had been scripted.
while the little guy stared up at me with those thirsty hazel-brown eyes of his, in that way that kids have of signaling simultaneous distress and “help me, help me, mama! this here’s your job,” the mama trailing behind him began to spill the dots.
there had been a game of stealing bases, and a hardball, one zipping through the air at 35 miles per hour, she figured (and, the mother of three ball-playing boys, she knows these things). that hard-beaned hardball made a beeline straight to my little guy’s forehead, which set him “crumpling” (her word) to the ground, upon which he couldn’t remember my phone number, and kept saying the same thing over and over. oh, and he was dizzy. and he thought he might throw up.
now, mind you, i’d just the week before heard a tale of precisely the same thing, a kid on the side of a ball field taking a bean to the head, how he got rushed to the school nurse, who thought not so much of it, so he went along to his after-school playdate, only to start getting droopy-faced within the hour. that poor kid wound up in emergency brain surgery before the sun set, and now, thank god, is a-okay. though he won’t be playing ball for a long long time. or ever, if his mother has anything to say about it.
so, with that fresh little spectacle shining in my head, i took in the scene with my very own head-bonked boy, and before you can spell “concussion,” i’d speed-dialed our trusty pediatricians, who wasted no time in sending me to the ER we live so conveniently close to. (note to mothers of boys: when house hunting, be sure to clock the door-to-door distance to your nearest friendly emergency room. it comes in handy.)
not-so-long story abbreviated: dear boy didn’t even need a CT scan, though of course they ruled his head bonk a by-the-book concussion. and, worth mention, his big brother did a memorable job playing ambulance driver, clicking on the bright red flashers only to be stuck in traffic behind the north shore’s slowest-ever driver, meandering lazily down the express route to the hospital. and, happy ending taken up a notch, we walked out of that ER into the arms of a thrashing summer’s storm. hallelujah!
but this wouldn’t be a tale worth telling if not for the prescription that came with the bump: no TV, no computers, no reading, no contact sports.
egad.
for how long we must endure this, we do not know. we see the concussion doctor monday. so for now, and through the weekend, we’ve turned back the clock and we’re playing like pioneers, minus the covered wagon.
yesterday we filled the day with this list of exotica: two boys — ages 10 and 11, mind you — baked, from scratch, an apple pie. yessiree, they sliced the apples, dumped the sugar, sprinkled cinnamon with vigor. they rolled out the dough, crimped the edge (in remarkably poetic undulations). then, because both share the initials TK, they drew out a lance from the kitchen junk drawer and lanced away at their letters, a cris-cross of hard-edged consonants nearly doing in the pie top.
while the apple pie did its oven dance, they did what bakers do: they tried their hand at texas hold ’em, a poker variation, then moved on to black jack and dominoes. ping pong served as minor interlude, along with a promise from our head-bonked one that he would not, absolutely not, come crashing down on the sharp corner of the table.
later in the evening, yet another little fellow wandered by. he took the bumped one out for ice cream, and, quietly strolling the lanes from there to here, they returned home for a long night of not-oft-seen board games. checkers, monopoly, and the fierce pursuit of plastic real estate.
so goes the old-fashioned, turn-back-the-clock life of the forehead compromised.
and, of course you’ve guessed that the point here is that gifts sometimes come wrapped in odd packages. say, ones with purple-green swirls just under a little boy’s forehead curls.
it is rather a refreshing, if taxing, way to spend a summer’s day, exercising the imagination, steering clear of pursuits that might potentially jar that tender brain of his.
deep inside, i long for just such summer days. for the gift of building tree forts (though at the moment, the fort is grounded, not cleared for take-off). for, perhaps, lying upon a summer’s couch, listening to the words of a mama turning the page of some fine adventure tale. and, pray tell, how about a lemonade stand, peddling from-scratch lemony-sugar potion, at the turn-back price of 5 cents a glass?
sometimes it takes a klonk on the head to get us seeing clearly. and if that’s the moral to the hardball story, well, then, i wish we could have gotten there without the goose egg hatching on my little fellow’s forehead.
how do you dream of spending a summer’s day? one spent the old-fashioned way?
Bam, small miracle that younger son did not stop the ball with his face or temple. Hope all is well soon. Remember the soothing wonders of witch hazel on bumps and bruises. Arnica montana, too.
Ah, an old-fashioned summer’s day. Are cars allowed? Of course the Friday I choose to work at home on a pile of fishy, squishy blogs (okay, I’m playing hookey right now), we get our first mild, breezy day in a loooong time. In the park with Jasper the dog, I just wanted to call a friend and make an impromptu beeline for the Indiana Dunes. Spend the day tromping up swells and down swales (on the boardwalks, of course), birding, flowering, looking for crinoids and pretty beach glass above the surf line, relishing a wide open, poofy-clouded sky. Go into Miller and poke our way through a couple of turn-of-the-last-century storefront shops. Have lunch at mid-century-vintage Flamingo Pizza. If we wanted to be real purists, we could take the train, ala Jens Jensen and his Prairie Club, but we’d need a horse-drawn wagon to get us all the way there. Wouldn’t that be something?
Or maybe just find someone who’d let me read the afternoon away on their front-porch swing, the way I spent so many summer days when I was a kid.
Happy summer dreaming, everyone!
you had me swooning……what IS it about summer days. i was with you swells, swales, mid-century pizza parlor.
oh we had a glorious day here. i never knew you could play so much monopoly. tomorrow: scrabble. watch out. i love that one…..
You’ve had your share of doctors this summer, sweetie. Thank god all will be well and if anyone can fill the summer with old fashioned goodness, it is you! Indeed the advice you give about being close to ER rooms if you have boys is true. First week here in the new place, J broke his arm and I had to run to a neighbor asking where the nearest ped ER was. (Since then, we’ve had the orthopedic surgeon on retainer.) Enjoy the rest of the lovely summer with your little and big guys.
And a perfect summer day for me would be going for a hike like we used to, looking for salamanders and turtles in the woods.
it is a curious and wonderful thing, how many chair regulars would take to the woods in a flash!!!
Oh sweetie pie! Oh my but you’ve had a few adventurous weeks. Such is the life of boys, I suppose, but it sure makes the hair grow a little more gray, non? My Emily suffered a concussion at the ripe old age of 2 when a well meaning older child decided to pick her up and carry her, only to toss her over her shoulder head first onto the concrete. It sounded like a bowling ball hitting the floor and down she went, and so did I … fainted dead away. I remember trying to keep her awake, keep her away from TV, keep her calm … yikes. Poor Tedd has had his own adventures of late, too. But, if I know you (and I do), he’ll get better care in that old house of yours than anywhere else. You’re the best mama I know. Tell the little guy we’re hoping his noggin feels better in a jiffy and next time, duck. xoxo
oh, darlin, did you really faint right down? i know it’s not funny, but when i read that, i did have to swallow a chuckle. something about the way you wrote it, i am certain. i know the sound of a baby’s head likened to a bowling ball sure wouldn’t make me do such a thing; egad, i’d likely keel over too. you made me laugh at last line too. next time, duck. i’ll pass that wisdom along. xoxoxo
Lights out, just like in the movies … it really is kinda funny (now). Mr. Tedd’s forehead must be a sore shade of purple today, poor little guy. I hope all is well and he’s on the mend. I feel for ya, honey … it’s just SO scary. After all, we’re issued only one head per customer. Do you think daddys worry as much as we mamas do?
bam, I actually did laugh when I read about pjv’s fainting, because I am a fainter myself. pjv, you could’ve given *yourself* a concussion. bam, I love this post because it sounds like the idyllic life I imagine for my own children and like I imagine my childhood was. (It wasn’t: I managed to watch an awful lot of cartoons in my day, whiling away entire afternoons.) But the pie, well, that really did it for me. I bet it was awesome and they loved it. And even if he (and his pals) only get one day of this, or only one week, still he knows what it’s like to be totally unplugged, and that it can be wonderful fun. And as for games, all I can say is, it’s a good thing you’re past the Candyland stage.
jcv, the folks in the room told me much later that it wasn’t exactly ‘dainty’ … boom, “there she goes!!”. Hahahaha!!
“Faint-Hearted” is the last way I would describe any of these table folk, but it is the heart that takes the hit when one of our babes is hurt. My husband was called to ER at Children’s Hospital when our three year old daughter took a table corner to the head and required stitches. I was out doing errands and a neighbor was watching her. It was pre-cell phone days so no one could reach me. Was there ever such a time?! I digress.
He showed up to ER just as our girl was strapped down and they had started prepping to stitch her up. I hear my hot shot suit of a hospital attorney entered the surgical suite, stopped, looked at his little girl and went down. They had to drag him out of the room. It remains a family favored story…much to his chagrin. He will walk his girl down the aisle in less than two weeks. Hopefully he will remain standing as he hands her over. 🙂
WAIT WAIT! STOP THE PRESSES!!!! we have a mother of the bride right here at the table!?!?!? holy lord, how did this almost nearly escape us? or, god forbid, am i the only one who nearly missed it. ah, dear darling, i was getting wobbly at your tale above as soon as i read “strapped.” strapped is a word i cannot stand when it comes to kids. it’s where i fall. and then right after that, reading along, i was totally gasping when i got to “his girl down the aisle.” in LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!!!!!! oh, darlin. i love to gather in my mind the life changes we have witnessed (such as it is) here at the table: a wedding, a first baby, a first grandbaby, a daughter’s wedding, a son’s wedding, off to college.
sadly, i know some of you gather on Facebook, but our beloved HH is facing a trial right now. and i don’t feel right telling her story. but pray for her, and pray hard at 2 p.m. this coming friday. she will be in surgery. xoxoxoxo we love that HH, and here at the table, we hold you tight, sweetheart…..
Darling bam and chair ladies, many many thanks for all the love and prayers. My story can be shared. It is in sharing stories that hope and healing happens. Maybe later today, I’ll come back to the table and share a little of that story. xoxoxo
Table prayers are good prayers…I am indeed an MOB and it is an interesting experience. Love the bride and groom and they are having fun planning their day. Yet…life being what it is….Prayers are needed for the groom’s mom who has been in the hospital since Easter and it looked all good for her to be out and at the wedding, but in the last week or so has had setbacks so won’t be there. There are too many reasons to not go ahead with the blessed event, but I know this is a group who will understand how painful this is for all us, but especially the groom’s family. SO prayers for Marilyn (MOG) as she struggles with this really, really tough news. As Marilyn recently wrote to me….”I know God has a plan for me, but I wish he would let me know more about it!”
So prayers all round as we continue to encounter the challenges of living a life of connection and love.
P.S. HH….will be with you in spirit and love all the way.
Praying for Marilyn. Can she be part of the wedding via Skype? Like that engagement proposal flash mob thing on you tube where the out of towners were present via Skype.
We are looking at that option but not sure if the church has “wi-fi”. wW have now added a videographer to the wedding. I am also thinking that there is that phone technology of “face time” and that might work too. What a funny world we live in…but I am so grateful for all the advancements that can connect us~like Bam’s cyber table! We are blessed to to be techno pen pals!
oh teddy…his summer has been ripe with mysterious turns of events that have undoubtedly flushed out his bravery and imagination. just the things that needed sharpening for his next big adventure this fall.
having just been out on an island with no wi-fi, no cars (soren kept marveling as he looked both ways ‘no cars, no cars’), not even street lights and only one spot for sit-down dinner i am completely behind the unplugged summer.
when we come to visit you this fall we’ll light candles, play board games and all bake pies as new england pioneers together. i can’t wait!