Gwyneth

I love 18 month old children. It might be my favorite age. They're old enough to be communicating, learning, and talking, but young enough to still never be naughty. I can't help but to be totally in love with my 18 month old. Gwen's such a joy...until she broke her arm.

It's been three weeks since the jungle gym accident. I couldn't believe we walked out of the ER without a cast around her body. They said to keep the ace bandage on for awhile and in a week she'd be feeling better, and in two weeks we could go to Orthopedics for a follow up...if we wanted. It just blew me away that she would heal so easily without anything but a little, flimsy, ace bandage. Healed she was. Easy? Not so much.

We did survive the first week. Her arm stayed in the sling and ace bandage and she got pretty good at doing things one handed. Eating for example. Shoveling only one fist full of food from her left hand to her mouth was better than me feeding her, so she coped. I think she was pretty doped up on Tylenol to really realize the pain or discomfort. But by week two, we started to lay off the medicine and tried to let her use her arm. She was a wreck.

It took her about 30 seconds to figure out if she screamed the loudest, high pitched, blood curling scream she could, we would come charging into the room ready to rescue her from what we assumed would be Gabriella on top of her or pulling her. Only we would find her upset that she couldn't quite pull a book out of the drawer, or that her cup of milk was empty. She had us whipped. And we came running every time.

She screamed when she went to bed. She never screams. She doesn't even cry at nap or bed time. But she screamed. A lot.

She walked around with her hurt arm hanging limply at her side. Like it was truly detached from her body. She wanted to be held constantly. But not by anyone. Only me. She's been a daddy's girl from day one. But daddy just wasn't cutting it. I was the only one she wanted. She would walk around behind me with her left arm up in the air crying for me to pick her up. Her broken arm stayed glued to her side. She just wasn't happy unless I had her safely in my arms. But I can't blame her. I would be upset too if I fell and had to break my fall using my broken arm. She caught on pretty quickly and just stopped using her arm to break falls. Which resulted in an overwhelming number of bruises on her forehead and cheeks. How were we suppose to take her to a follow-up appointment with a broken arm and a battered face? Suspicious? It started to look that way.

But finally, finally something happened this week. Gwen's back. My loving 18 month old is back. She now waves "bye-bye" when she goes to bed. She can again lift her arm to reach for me with both hands. She runs to Joe when he walks in the door. She doesn't eat with her left hand anymore...but still, the yogurt ends up smeared everywhere. I was hoping that would leave with the broken arm Gwen. No such luck.

But I'm just so happy to see her laughing and playing again. She's smiles again and is not in pain. My little Gwen is healed.

And you want to know something crazy? Something really good came from these bad three weeks...not that I would ever want to relive them again, or wish them on anyone. But I'm trying to see the positive here and it is something definitely positive. She doesn't suck her thumb anymore! No more blanket intervention necessary. FYI-If you ever need to break a child from sucking their thumb, simply ace bandage that thumb sucking hand across their stomach for a week and presto. Mission accomplished.

But just so you know, we would have welcomed happy little Gwen Gwen back with or without the thumb sucking! She's just too darn fun!