At least once a day Liam does something that hurts me enough to make me yelp at him. Some days it’s hitting my forehead with the corner of a wooden train as he whips around quickly. Others, it’s one of his booted feet stomping down with all his weight on my tarsals. Whatever he does usually leaves a bruise or a welt or a scrape. He doesn’t do it on purpose; it’s just collateral damage inflicted by a very enthusiastic twenty month old boy. It can be hard to remember that, however, when one is tired and cranky and short on patience.

Early this morning, he grabbed lightning-fast at the fresh hot cup of tea I held in my hand, which spilled down the neck of my sweater and left a burn line down my breastbone to my stomach. I put cold compresses on it and massaged in some lavender oil, but the red line remains. It’s not a severe burn or anything; still, it’s enough to twinge when my pullover rubs against it.

I know it wasn’t intentional. Nonetheless, after the first aid I had to go sit in another room by myself for a while and do some breathing exercises in order to calm down, and when Liam came charging in right away to see what I was doing I asked HRH to take him away to play somewhere else for a few minutes.

I need down time. I just never seem to get it, because there’s always something I have to be doing when Liam is with his caregiver or his grandma for a day. Any time winter wants to leave town would be fine, too, because it’s not helping.

I never did get a cup of tea this morning. I will go remedy that right now.