where have I been?

It all started when Iz fractured his foot on May 31. He climbed on a little square cafe table on our back deck. As I walked toward him and asked him to get down, he smiled that "of course I'm not going to listen to you -- in fact, I'm going to make the whole situation more risky" and walked to the edge of the table and jumped.

Not off the table, but the table tipped, he flattened out on the table top, and the two hit the ground. Not very fast, not very hard, not very far. But it was enough.

The foot breaking happened right when I had a huge, unfamiliar editing job for a new client that I had promised to them by June 5 (I did get an extension until June 9 -- and just managed to get it done). I may sound selfish here -- believe me, I would rather make sure Iz was okay than do the editing job -- but the facts were that I had this huge job and had made a promise to a client.

Iz was a mess for a few days (understandably). The first night, he slept no more than 3 hours combined -- no more than 15 minutes at a time. The rest of the time he was crying -- ranging from hysterical to wimpering. I knew he was exhausted and drove around with him for an hour at 2 a.m. (Interesting out there on the roads at 2 a.m. We live in an area which has a high number of car thefts and I think I saw a car being stolen. But what was I going to do about it? Pull over and ask the three young men -- who were hiding their faces from my view -- what they were doing while my two-year-old screamed. Not likely. They were gone by the time I made a third loop down the road -- as were two cars.)

The type of crying seemed like the pain kind, but it turns out he was totally frustrated with the splint. Took us two days to figure that one out -- if we unwrapped the ace bandage, he fell right asleep.

Anyway... I snapped. I indulged in my own hysterical crying and rants that spiraled into hopelessness. (A complete mental breakdown? Hard to say.) I think I still have not recovered. I am questioning everything:

• I love taking care of Iz, but should I put him in more extensive child care so I can get work done?
• I can't imagine myself not working, but could I work much less and not be destitute?
• Should I bag the whole idea of having a second child?

Maybe I'll recover and stop doubting everything.

Isaac is, of course, recovering (I was never worried that he wouldn't). He never had a cast put on because the first split gave him a huge blister -- and you can't put a cast on a blister (festering possibilities). So we can take off his splint, bathe him, stop him from screaming hysterically... And he runs around on the split like nothing is wrong. He calls it his "big foot."