My son has been bouncing on the trampoline for years, ever since he was a small, chubby little guy.
He would go out there on his own and would just jump up and down for the longest time. It’s always be time where he goes into a zone and spends time in his head scheming and imagining. The trampoline has always calmed him and been his place to go when he was shooed outside.
Well, this summer was the summer it all came to an end, snap.
He broke his arm.
Yes, it was bound to happen.
Yes, trampolines are an accident waiting to happen.
No, there is not a net around it.
Yes, I am an awful mom.
So, now that we have that out of the way, here’s how it all went down.
It was the first day of Summer break, he had just gotten shooed outside and forced off Fortnite. Jumping away he goes and attempts the cardinal trampoline sin, a flip. He doesn’t land the flip and snap! Just like a pencil snapping as he would describe it.
Clean break of both bones in his forearm.
Where am I? Work.
I get a picture message of the snapped S-shaped arm. Ummmm so gross! I will spare you posting it here, so gross! As you can imagine no mom wants to see a message pop up from your child of him laying his head on the table with his S-shaped arm. Mild heart attack.
At that exact moment I was out and about running errands, in my car I might add and needing to get back to work.
This is when it started going by really fast. I’m trying to pull over to try to talk to him. He is in route to the ER. I’m calling the ortho office and trying to send a picture of the insurance card. My boy is in pain and I am not able to get right to him.
By the time I get back to work and I can get to my car to make the 30-minute drive to the hospital, my son is being numbed up and is ready to get fitted for the cast. There was no point in me racing there, he was going to be on his way home with a quarter-pounder by the time I got there.
So, I finish up my work, head to Drug Mart to get him some necessities and head home. I walk in the door and he comes right up to me before I’m even inside and just hugs me. He is a wreck! My boy is so upset…queue the mom guilt, like a water pipe just burst and the mom guilt is shooting directly at me. He is so stinking mad at himself for this injury. He had big plans for the summer.
By now the numbing is wearing off, and he is in pain and beating himself up.
I am beating myself up! I have allowed the trampoline all these years = I am the worst mom in the world.
I wasn’t there when it happened. I wasn’t there to take him to the hospital. I wasn’t there to have him squeeze my hand when it hurt. I wasn’t there when they gave him the Novocaine shots. I wasn’t there when they showed the X-ray. I wasn’t there to tell him it was going to be okay. I wasn’t there when he picked his cast color. I wasn’t there when they casted it. I wasn’t there to make the follow-up appointment. I wasn’t there to get him the quarter-pounder meal after (that is probably a good thing).
Yes, it is dangerous, honestly my whole back yard/home is a danger zone. We have a climber set, an above ground pool, scooters basketball hoop, bikes, slip and slides, sprinklers, pogo sticks… the list goes on and on.
Every single time they walk out the door to play, an accident can happen. I can’t switch my mindset to wrapping them in a bubble and sending them off, unless they are those fun bubble balls you slam into each other in!
Accidents are always going to happen. I just have to pray and pray and pray and have faith that they have been raised well enough to make decisions that can keep them as safe as possible. Yes, a flip on the trampoline is a dumb decision. The rule is no flips. An accident happened, it could have been worse, it could have been better. Either way I can’t lock him up. I want him to live. I want him to do his thing, get dirty, take risks (not crazy risks, but some risks), and he learned from this risk. So I will take a broken bone and the lesson he learned. I don’t have to punish him, he is doing that to himself. A great lesson in choices, because he is going to be making choices for the rest of his years.
As for me, the guilt is going away. It wasn’t like he drove himself to the hospital, he was in good hands with his dad, who is calm, calm, calm in these situations. There is a reason I wasn’t there, because I most likely would have yaked, cried and been a wreck. That being said, the mom guilt is still strong and hopefully in 25 years, when they are grown and visiting me at my beach house, (because that is the only way I will get them to visit me), this will be a mom guilt story I will be crying tears of laughter from.