I'm a self-labeled hoverer. I hover like a hen over my offspring. They are all, at present, so tiny, that I like to know where and what every minute. I disregard criticism that may come my way due to this behavior: accusations of paranoia or motherly meddling. Perhaps tales from the ER brought to me by my husband have contributed to this hovering habit...but I think it is just a strong urge inside of me to protect my littles from...accident? disaster? tragedy? Thus, protecting yours truly from...an emotional unraveling of any sort.
I was hovering (sitting right next to) over Seth when he aspirated the infamous almonds. Again, last night, at a friend's, I was once again hovering, this time literally, over Lucy as she was reaching in some compartments in the toy closet. Immediately she withdrew her hand with a yelp. I checked the finger for blood. None. Then, realizing even before seeing, I knew the culprit had been my desert nemesis:
One of the few bugs that sends your child to the Emergency Room. The dreaded scorpion! I scooped her up and slowly walked over, slowly said, "Craig, Craig". Conversation halted, attention had, "Lucy has been bitten by a scorpion". Gasps of horror undulated through the room. But, everything seemed fine. Then a nosebleed, uncharacteristic crying, tearing at the ears. Leaving the friend's. Home with a stung Lucile. Quickly things turned from bad to worse and even Craig began to panic (in the ever so calm fashion that is his). He rushed her to his second home and I nearly threw the kids in bed while calling for backup. Backup came, I also rushed and we sat watching. Craig sitting back, evidence of relief on his face--the effect, not so much due to a change in his daughter, as perhaps the comfort of his daughter being there in HIS element, where help was ready, waiting in the wings . I trying to console this tiny little body with venom rushing through her nerves. Eyes googly, limbs uncoordinated and unstill. She was the picture of misery. But, soon her muscles began to relax and she closed her tired unsettled eyes. After a few hours we were driving home wondering how the calm Sunday evening we had anticipated had turned sour---from a mere sting.
So, lesson learned? One--definitely by the scorpion, who is no longer. Another, by me: Hovering will not hold at bay the stings and scratches that will undoubtedly come.
Yet, somehow, I will persist in hovering.