Mommy strikes again

First-born and second-born girl children

standing in driveway (circa 1992) - look at that snow!

My second-born baby-girl child was visiting me this past weekend and read my entry about my dropping first-born baby-girl child. (That would be her sister.) I think second born may of felt a little left out. After reading the post she said, “Gee Mom, you should write about that time you hit me in the face with the shovel!” Oh yeah. I had forgotten about that. Wonder why. (And isn’t it amazing how sibling rivalry really does seep into everything?).
So, here is my tale about how I hit my second born child in the face with a shovel…back in the way-back machine again.

And again, I reiterate: I really do believe I was a fairly good mom!

First-husband and I lived in an old colonial house with a very, very long driveway. When it snowed, the shoveling was a huge undertaking. Before we could afford to hire someone else to do the shoveling or had the good sense to finally buy a snow blower, we did the shoveling ourselves. It took all of us to shovel it out. And it took hours. It became a ‘family event’ as soon as my children were old enough to hold a snow shovel. We would get all bundled up and head out. Living in New York, we had serious snow falls. One particularly huge snow fall, we all got dressed and headed out for the shoveling ritual. Then-husband and first-born girl-child worked in the backyard area where the driveway spread out to hold several cars while second-born girl-child and I started on the long straight-away out to the road. We had on hats, gloves, scarves, boots- and well, you get the picture. We each started at one end of the straight-away and the plan was to meet in the middle. Off we went. I personally don’t mind shoveling. I find it stimulating and it’s one of the very few times I don’t mind being out in the snow. And I love that sense of accomplishment when the driveway is clear!

I got into my ‘groove’ and started shoveling. It was great. I shoveled and shoveled and lost track of time and space. Being all bundled up with hat and scarf, I didn’t hear a thing, so I was really in my own little world of winter wonderland. I was out there for quite some time; I swung the shovel back over my shoulder to rid my shovel of the snow and I heard a SCREAM and then SCREAMING…I was a little disoriented…turned and see second-born girl-child’s face spurting blood and she is, like I said, screaming. It is amazing just how RED blood looks on white snow. We had both been in our own shovel zones and had shoveled right into each other’s path. Somehow, we had managed to shovel closer and closer to each other and we never heard each other with all of the wind, snow, and hats, scarves and hoods on. Man did I bean her in the mouth with my shovel. I felt horrible and she was still screaming. Then-husband is shaking his head and looking at me with the ‘Do-I-kill-you-now-or-later?” look. Second-born girl-child and I jumped into the car and headed to the pediatricians’ as I didn’t know if she would need stitches. She held a towel to the cut and it was fairly soaked when we got to the doc’s. They took her right away (funny how blood will do that).

So our pediatrician takes second-born baby-girl child and hoists her up onto the examining table. He gently lifts off the towel and fresh blood oozes out. “Little lady, just how did you get this awful cut on your face”, he asked sympathetically. She started to cry again and whimpers, “Mommy hit me in the face with a shovel!” It was a true “Beam-me-up-Scottie” moment. I could not melt into the wall nor could I crawl under the examining table without being noticed, so I smiled sheepishly and held my breath. Dr. turned his head and looked at me OVER his glasses (man do I find that intimidating when someone looks OVER their glasses at you), and asks,(with raised eyebrows)… “Ahhhh- is there something we need to talk about here or is there anything you want to tell me?” “Well, it’s true; I did indeed hit her with a shovel”, I manage to say. I was waiting for social services to burst in at any moment.

He turned to second-born girl-child and asks her to tell him the whole story as to just how it was that mommy hit her in the face with a shovel. And so she proceeded to tell the story, just as it happened. Thank Goodness the pediatrician gleaned I was not a shovel-wielding monster-mommy, and that it was a true accident.

Second-born girl-child was sent home with shovel mommy and a helluva puffy lip. I can’t remember if she got a stitch or two, I don’t think so. A lovely bruise came out that turned that pretty yellow color, so for weeks, people would see her and exclaim, “Oh my, how DID you get that boo-boo on your face, sweet child?” and second-born girl-child would say, “ my mommy hit me with a shovel”. I would once-again get the ‘you are a monster-mommy’ look and I would then have to tell the whole story over. Again. And Again. I was very happy when this particular boo-boo healed on second-born girl-child.

And, just like first born child, second-born girl-child grew up to become a wonderful woman who is a teacher’s assistant for autistic children and a wonderful mommy to her own girl-child.