Nachi's pointless rants and recollections

When I was 16 or 17, living in Peru, I had a puppy named Orion. He was a rottweiler that my mom "stole" from my grand-mother when he was three days old. She gave him to me to raise. I cared for that little doggy like he was my own child.
One day, while I was coming to the kitchen to get something, I heard him yelp. He was about two months old or so or maybe three. I saw that he was struggling to get free from a wooden crate that was laying around there. He kept yelping and pulling away but couldn't manage to get free. When I got close to inspect the situation, I saw something horrifying. There was a bent nail stuck under his eyelid.
How in the world did he manager to get in that situation, I'll never know.
Panic started creeping up. I didn't know how to save him. He kept squirming around and wouldn't let me help.
I yelled for help but everyone was very far away from where I was, nobody could hear him.
So, I came to the realization that if I was going to save my puppy, I had to do something.
I hugged him tight and I talked to him. I said to him "You need to stay still, if you keep pulling, you'll damage your eye. You need to trust me, I'll get you out of there."
Somehow, he understood. He kept yelping but he stood very still. I managed to pull his eyelid out and free him.
With tears streaming down my eyes, I managed to carry him to my mom who helped me clean him up and decided he was ok.
He didn't have any major damage, not even a puncture wound.
It was a miracle.

I've never had to go through something like that again. Well, all that changed a few days ago.
Last Wednesday my son and I were at my in-law's. I was in the kitchen with my mother-in-law and my son was going to see his grand-father in the living-room.
While I was chatting away, I heard my son call for me.
"Jeannette? uh, Jeannette?"
It was a simple call, nothing alarming in his voice it would seem.
I knew better though, I guess mothers always know, but I knew something was wrong.
I went to look for him and found him in the spare room where my-in-law's keep their clothing and other things.
He was bent down with his hands on an old bicycle.
I was about to yell at him for touching things that don't belong to him, until I saw his face.
Pain, all I saw was pain and desperation.
He was very calm though, no crying, no yelling, nothing, just a look that said help me!
I got near him and saw that his right hand was stuck in between the chain of the bike and the wheel thing that moves when you pedal. I tried to pull his hand a little to see if it would budge.
No luck.
I wanted to spin the wheels in the opposite direction but I couldn't. The bike was stuck in between several bags of clothing and it was too heavy for me to lift.
I decided that it was time for help.
I called for my in-law's and shortly after they came I regretted my decision.
I thought they would help, but instead panic started.
Once my mother-in-law saw what was happening she started crying and screaming.
My father-in-law looked like a poor lost puppy not knowing what to do.
My poor little brother-in-law just stood against the wall covering his mouth.
I felt helpless again but this time I had so much noise in my head, I couldn't think straight.
Luka, who had been calm up to this point started to panic. The yells and cries of my family were so loud, I couldn't think straight. My brain was telling me that I needed to turn the pedals towards the opposite direction, but somehow my brain didn't know what direction that was. If I turned it wrong, his hand was going to be fed even further in.
His little fingers looked like they were only holding on by the skin.
I resigned myself to the idea that he would loose at least two fingers, so my mission now was to get him out of there and into the hospital so they could at least reconstruct his hand if it was possible.
I started to yank the chain with my own hands in hopes of breaking it. Nothing was working.
The screams were getting louder, I finally yelled "Shut up, everyone needs to shut up!"
I felt the panic creeping up on me but I couldn't let it take over. If I allowed myself to feel despair, I wouldn't be able to free my son. He was counting on me to free him and I wasn't going to fail him.
I told my father-in-law to bring something to cut the chain with. Finally, I hugged Luka and told him he needed to stay very still and quiet so I could help him. I covered his mouth and he stood still.
My brain finally decided to work. "Turn the pedal this way" it told me.
As soon as I did, I freed his hand.
Relief....

I saw no blood, just very smooshed fingers.
I yelled at my MIL to give me a cloth or something to cover his hand.
I carried my son and I told my FIL to take me to the hospital.
He started to say "Wait, let me see.."
"No, HOSPITAL, NOW!" I yelled.
"But..." he continued.
"H O S P I T A L" I demanded.
Finally he go the message.
I told my brother in law to call my husband and let him know what happened. I had to repeat it twice because he seemed to be in shock.
\
When we finally got to the ER, they wanted to check him but Luka wouldn't allow it. He wasn't crying at all. That little boy is so brave, he wouldn't cry. He was in pain though, you could see it in his face, but he refused to cry. He was very scared and very sad. I kept hugging him and telling him how brave he was and that the Doctors would help him feel better.
Long story short, they gave him medicine for the pain and he started to perk up.
The amazing thing though is that every time I checked his hand, his fingers started to plump up and look almost normal.
By the end of the whole ordeal, his fingers looked almost like before but with a few bruises and cuts.
I couldn't believe it, it was a miracle!

Finally, my body started to react to the whole ordeal. I realized I had been wanting to pee for hours. I also started to feel pain on my left hand. When I looked at it, I saw chain marks from when I almost broke the stupid thing. My body was finally telling me that I needed to be taken care of. I had been carrying my son the whole afternoon and he is not light-weight by any standards. Add to it that I'm pregnant and I can't quite understand how I managed to do all that I did to not only rescue my son, but remain calm and endure everything else.

The Doctors told us that Luka's hand would make a full recovery. They advised us to clean the wound at home because he wouldn't allow them to do it. They also told us to give him Motrin or Tylenol for the pain and come back in a few days if the swelling didn't go down.
Luka was finally perky and responsive. He actually smiled and laughed. It was as if the whole thing never  happened.
Yes, he was still in a little pain, but nothing compared to what he felt before.

That night, while I put him to sleep, I hugged him tight and read him a bed-time story.
He was so happy and kept telling me he loved me.
Finally, when he was snoring away, I let myself feel something.
Tears started to stream down my eyes and I started to sob.
My son had gotten hurt, and in that moment I would have traded places with him in an instant. I would rather go through the pain he went a thousand times if only to avoid him going through it.
My emotions were taking over now and I couldn't stop crying, that is until Luka woke up and asked me:
"Jeannette, are you crying?"
"No"
"Jeannette, why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying bubba."
"I want you."
"I love you, goodnight"

Finally my baby went to sleep, but I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes all I could see were his fingers stuck in the chains. The image still hunts me two days after but I'm glad I was able to help him. He counted on me to rescue him and I didn't fail him.
I like to believe that mommy-mode was activated when he called for me. Otherwise, I don't know how else I would have remained so calm and in control.
I haven't had a chance to cry again. It seems that I was only able to cry for those 10 seconds before he awoke that night. Now it seems silly to cry. I can live with that. My son is alright now, his hand is healing and that's all that matters.

If you were to randomly come visit us without warning and see my two year old just being himself, you would be horrified!

He would be either dripping wet from his hair, have a big stain on his shirt, or have something mushy around his hands and feet.
Worse case scenario, he would have all three of those things going on at the same time.

No, I am not neglecting my child, yes he does take baths and no I am not spoiling him.
I just let him be messy.

I can't tell you how many times I've seen those mothers either in the park or in their homes (my family) obsessing about their kids getting dirty. I understand that people don't like to see their kids dirty, but think about this, at the end of the day, do they really remain clean? Most likely your answer will be no.
Kids have this amazing ability of getting dirty no matter what you do. They grab things they aren't supposed and stick them in places you wouldn't even imagine they would fit in.

Luka eats on his own, most of the time half of the food doesn't make it into his mouth. Where does it go? Some of it goes to the floor, other parts are on the table and sometimes I even find some in his socks or in his belly button.
Now you may be wondering why in the world would I let him make such a mess?
Well, kids learn by playing and to them getting messy is playtime. Feeling food getting mushed against their fingers, bringing out all of their toys and lining them up in a perfect line, or chewing on a crayon like it's bubble gum, all of those things help develop their senses. Those things give kids a chance to explore, to understand how things work and how far they can push their limits.
I won't lie to you, on several occasions I find myself yelling "no, don't eat that, no don't step on that!" I try to remind myself though, it's only a crayon, it's only a ruined shirt, it's only stained teeth until bedtime when he gets to brush them.

The point is, if it's not going to hurt them, let them be. You're going to have to clean up the mess eventually, so just let them make the mess. If you are worried about your precious walls getting vandalized by your little Picasso, then buy him/her tons of paper for them to express their creativity. If you are concerned about your carpet getting food, put some newspaper or plastic on the floor, or just eat somewhere else where you may find it easier to clean up.
Just give your kid a chance to be his or herself. They grow up so fast and these years when they're little don't last forever.

Encourage them to get messy, it's nothing a shower can't fix right?