Some kids are like that. They look so much like their dad, you'd think think their fathers had carried them for nine-plus months, gone through labor and birthed them. Sometimes we mom's just don't get cut a break.
The Boy has his daddy's face, his daddy's curly hair and his daddy's brown eyes. Oh, Joe tries to be nice and tells me that kiddo's eyes are really hazel, but I see that his affection for me has left him a bit colorblind.
But wouldn't you know, he has my eyelashes.
Now, for those of you who weren't studying my lashes, they are pretty average. But when I was a kid, they were strikingly long and dark. This is my son's one inheritance from me. And what a bum deal at that.
See, today he fell down the cement stairs on the porch. We had some tears, but he quickly recovered. Then, just about an hour ago, he rubbed his eye the wrong way and those long lashes got stuck under his lower eyelid.
This is quite possibly the worst thing that has ever happened to him. Only, this is the third time that it's happened.
Each time is traumatic. We have to hold him down, hold his arms down, and pull his eyelid just the right way until those long lashes come back out. This involves a lot of screaming and tears. The last time took nearly twenty minutes. Thankfully, tonight it was only five.
Still, my heart broke a little, as a lot of mama's hearts do when you have to do something like this to help your kid and they are scared and suffering. Eyes are sensitive and don't like anything touching them; I don't like wearing contacts for this reason, even if I was told I was prettier with them. Bah humbug! Stick something in my eye voluntarily--never again!
So, somehow with the tumble off the porch and my hereditary eyelash curse, I feel like Bad Mama. I know I'm not, but still...
Joe told me that a coworker had a suggestion for the eyelash problem: curl Kiddo's eyelashes.
You have got to be kidding me.
I may be Bad Mama, but I'm not the dumbest person on the planet. Apparently, someone else is busy earning that award..........