An eye for an eye.

So, I could NOT have been more excited for my deep-water aerobics class last night. I laid out my clothes, collected the requisite articles; a towel, extra underwear, flip-flops, etc. And I dreamt about splashing around with those adorable blue-hairs and hopefully being adopted by a sweet little knitter with a penchant for cats (ideally mine, since they are wearing out their welcome here, but that is another story).

I light of my impending health and well being, not to mention “me time”, I was giddy and evidently somewhat annoying to my children. Phoebe, especially, was having none of it. She made it clear that she needed my complete and total attention and energy. She was unhappy with her snack which landed smack on the floor, disappointed with her jumpy-jump (her all-time favorite pastime), she couldn’t stand the sight of Elmo. I couldn’t please her.

It seemed the only thing, which would appease her was a front-row seat on my hip. She adores being a little side-car charlie, a remora, a barnacle, a massive giggling tumor on my waist (I will give her credit for being the only thing attached to my waist that is detachable—the blubber absolutely will not go down for a nap!). It is her birthright, she seems to believe or demand. Should this mission not to be accepted, there will be consequences.

Tonight, the penalty—Mommy gets bitch slapped. That’s right, a single open-handed blow to the eye, which caused immediate nausea and wooziness. You know something is bad when your first reaction is to vomit. After the initial shock, I realized she tore the white of my left eye. I was absolutely stunned and honestly, a little scared.

In a great deal of pain, I struggled to get the kids dinner. One-eyed and one-handed as I needed to hold a ice pack on the wounded orb. I kept muttering, “What the hell?” under my breathe. Gabriel kept asking if he could touch it. Sure! What’s another poke in the eye between family? Give it your best shot, preferably with a finger that has a nice sharp nail sticking out of it.

NO! You may not touch my throbbing eyeball!?!

Well, needless to say, there was no deep-water aerobics for me. I sulked partly for the loss of independent, healthful, playtime and partly for the loss of my vision. Dave was supportive and said I must feel like the world is against me. Which is sweet, but not completely true, I just feel like my children are against me.

Truth be told, we may be at an impasse. I figure the slap to my face was a reaction to my preoccupation with waterworld/nirvana and possibly a sixth-sense about my “Yen for Yesterday” blog. (They are eerily attuned, those little ankle-biters.) Now, I don’t plan to fight dirty and get physical—that is just immature and childish. No, I am going to be thoughtful, methodical and imaginative about my approach. But first, I am going to cry.


Ps. My eye is fine. I woke this morning to nearly perfect vision. My doctor said it should be good in a few days.