On how I almost killed him

(My mom's favorite picture of the little rascal)

Monday was Jim's first day back to school. I knew the time would come when he would have to go back, but I can honestly say I was not looking forward to it. You see, since about mid-May the three of us have been basically inseparable. Where he went, I went. Where we went, the kid followed. I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed having Jim's constant companionship. Not only is he sweet and funny and cute, but he is SUCH a good Daddy and did almost everything for Mr. Talmage. I knew back to school meant back to being a University-induced single parent, not a fan.

As a sidenote, I do like the idea of having a real job and real income someday, so three cheers for law school, huh?

When James left for school, Talmage cried at the door screaming "Daddy" and I just sat and stared at him, trying to remember how I used to parent when my other half wasn't around. Once I was finally able to peel T from the doorway we easily slipped into a routine. Snacks. Naps. Toys. Books. Dancing. We were having a good day (except for random moments when he would realize Daddy was gone and lead me to the front door repeating his name) and we were getting along quite nicely.

And then, disaster struck.

Our incredible building has a HUGE playroom downstairs for the children, and since our stuff is still not here we decided to go play. When lunchtime was upon us, we got in the elevator on our way back up to our apartment. Riding in an elevator is new for the peanut, and he finds it very entertaining...well, he did at least.

He was hitting the door with his hands on our way up and having a fabulous time when all of a sudden the door opened and T's hand went with it (we were on our floor, luckily). In a second, no, a fraction of a second, Talmage's hand was dragged with the door into the opening and the elevator door was stuck halfway open. All of his fingers and part of his palm were stuck in the door and he errupted in tears and shrieks of agony. I tried opening the door. I tried closing it. Nothing worked.

So, I went into mama-bear-need-to-protect-her-cub mode and went balistic. I started pressing the emergency button in the elevator and screaming "HELP" as loud as I could. You've heard of people staying cool under pressure, unfortunately I don't have that skill. When the doorman came running down the hall he started screaming unmentionable words at the sight of T's hand. It just looked awful. He got on his walkie talkie and called for back-up (we were both thinking we'd need tools to break the elevator apart). But then, the doorman (who was my hero of the day) used all his manliness and pushed the elevator as hard as he could which allowed me to pull Talmage's purple, lifeless hand from the space.

When his hand came out, it looked mangled and awful. I was sure it had multiple brakes and the doorman asked me to run to the front desk with him where we could meet the manager and others. When they saw my poor, wimpering babies hand, they said we should probably a) call an ambulance or b) go to the emergency room.

And then, a miracle occurred.

As we are discussing our options, Talmage completely stoped crying, and started moving his little hand as though nothing was wrong. Within seconds, color was back and he was using his fingers as if nothing had happened. I decided to wait it out and see if we needed to go to the hospital, and we didn't. He is 100% perfect and has no mark, no disoloration, no pain, no nothing. He was giving us all high-fives and pounds and didn't even flinch when I felt his hand for issues. He is truly a medical miracle (on many accounts) and I'm so grateful that Heavenly Father allowed him to be quickly (like, really, really quickly) healed and back to normal.

So...how about that for our first day at home together? Oh bother.