Falling for you
Advice from Mom
By Rita Lessard
The word fall has so many meanings. As the season turns, we can look forward to the changing of colours and the cooler weather. In its other form, the term is not as pretty as the season. My little friend Garrett Steffler had a fall last Thursday and the doctor glued the cut together. It’s amazing what they can do today to lessen the occurrence of scars. My guys were not so lucky as every one of them has at least one scar.
This falling business must be hereditary. My mother, for instance, was a fallen woman; no, that’s not right – I should say she fell a lot. That’s better.
My mother used to wear high-heeled shoes and a long fur coat, and I do believe that was her major downfall. I think her troubles started when she was about two years old and she fell down a flight of stairs and broke her nose; I think she tripped over her diaper that time.
It’s not exactly hereditary that my husband Tom has fallen and broken his nose several times, but our son Tommy had a broken nose and two black eyes when he got hit by a swing at the age of two. Falling backward, he also got a crack on the back of his head as he landed on a rock. Talk about bad luck!
Having children is the greatest thing, but this is one project that doesn’t come with a manual of instructions. It’s relatively simple when they are small babies; if all goes well, you just feed them, water them, and then you can put them down to rest. Once they get on their feet, however, you are presented with a whole new ball game; that’s when the fun begins in earnest.
I realize that young mothers are anxious for their children to grow up; be patient and enjoy them when they are small and having small troubles, because the bigger they get, the bigger the trouble.
So take heart Ashley (Garrett’s mom): your son will be fine and hopefully not have too many falls. You can take heart in the fact that Tommy’s fall didn’t do too much damage: he graduated at the top of his class in Grade 8, and while accepting awards at graduation, didn’t fall off the stage once.
(Editor’s note: Mom, you forgot to mention the scar on my forehead, a result of Bill pushing me into the dining room cabinet at age 3. I can still remember the bloody drive to South Huron Hospital and Dr. Gans stitching me up. Ah, the memories!)