Good husband day, good hair day

Genie: "I need your help showering. I need you to wash my hair for me." Rich: "I don't understand what that means. I'm very intrigued, mind you, but unclear what you want me to do."

Genie: "I can't get my cast wet and it's hard to wash my hair with one hand. And I thought I could try that whole rinsing and not washing thing that everyone raves about since I already only wash my hair a few times a week. But I just ended up looking like a homeless person today."

Rich: "It just looks a little frizzy."

Genie: "It looks a little halfway house to me."

Rich: "So what do I need to do? This isn't some complicated thing that involves essential oils and panda tears, is it?"

Genie: "It's two steps, washing and conditioning."

Rich: "WHOA there, two steps? Maybe you should just wait until Laura gets here tomorrow and she can do it. I'll watch so I can learn how it's done. Everybody wins!"

Genie: "I'll coach you through it. You'll do great."

I'm happy to report he did a fine job. Rich also gets a prize for doing all this when there is little chance of sexy time since I can't breath for this cold and my arm's in a cast and the baby was due to wake up any second for bedtime milk.

Today's good hair day is brought to you by my doting husband.

Going to see Jesus

"Come on, Ian. Let's go see Jesus." It creeped me out when I first heard it. One of the teachers said it as I was dropping Ian off at day care. No one ever talked about Jesus in the infant room. Sure there were a few "Jesus loves you" posters around and they made elaborate gifts for the Easter holiday but that was the extent of the whole thing.

But in the Toddler Room, every morning they greet the children as they come in and carry them over to a window static that has a picture of Jesus. They trace a cross over him and then put the child down to go play with the others. It's just weird.

Ian looks dubious about it. Then again, he looks dubious about most things before 9am (that's my boy, the non-morning person). I wasn't really sure how I felt about it. Are we ready to make decisions on how we want to explain God to our son? And who is this Jesus character? I told myself there was no harm in it. They were just saying hello to him. No other expectations.

It's a day care run by a Catholic church. This should not be a surprise. But how much Jesus does a toddler need?

When I was five, my mother signed me up for vacation bible school at the local church. We were never religious people, but my preschool had tiny classes (eight kids?) and she wanted me to experience something larger before I went to kindergarten and had 20 classmates. It seemed okay at first. But one day my oldest brother was walking with me and told me to be careful and not get run over by a passing car. I cheerfully told him, "that's okay because if I die I'll get to see Jesus."

When we got home my brother told Mom, "She's NEVER going back there!"

So when this woman told my son to "go see Jesus" it caught me off guard. I'm not ready to talk about Jesus with my kid who still meows at the dog. And kids can be such rules lawyers that I don't really understand the concept of teaching them about Jesus and miracles and the like. When I was five I would have gone to the mat to defend Santa Claus' existence and that he drives a sleigh in the sky. I don't want to hear the same adamant proclamations about Jesus.

I've been mulling this over in my head for weeks now as I drop Ian off every day at day care. What will they talk about in the 2,3 and 4 year old classes? Will Ian one day start correcting me about Jesus? As Meryn Cadell sang, "accept Christ into my heart? I didn't even know the man."

Yesterday we made our way into day care from the parking lot. My arms were full with toddler and diaper bag and lunch box and little jacket as we shuffled our way to the door. As most day cares do, there are decorations everywhere for every possible holiday. Shamrocks in March, hearts in February and various window statics of pilgrims, pumpkins and a giant turkey this month. As we reached the big glass door, just like the one in his room, Ian cheerfully reached out and slapped at the turkey in front of us. Apparently, going to see Jesus and going to see the turkey are not much different for him.

And for now, that's just fine with me.

Resting with the help of a little fiberglass

Two weeks or so ago I went to the chiropractor for my wrist. He gave me a few techniques to massage it and instructions to ice it and rest it. The biggest thing I remember him saying is "mobility is better than immobility." So today I went for my orthopedist appointment. I wanted to see what he suggested because I'd been icing a lot and resting as much as I could and the pain had only gotten worse.

They took some x-rays and then the doctor came to talk to me. After looking over my wrist and doing some test maneuvers he said that my ECU tendon is pissed off (my medical term, not his).

He said I had two options. One is I could wear my brace 24/7 for four weeks to let the tendon heal, but he suspected I wouldn't keep the brace on since I hadn't thus far. I agreed. The second option was to put a cast on my arm to force me to wear it and let it heal. Reluctantly, I conceded to that.

But as he left to get the "cast technician" I wondered if I had made a huge mistake. Would I be able to shower? Would I be able to type? Would I be able to care for Ian? About that time the tech came in and started wrapping my arm in gauze so I was committed.

It's been one day and solidly okay. I did manage a shower. I can type in an awkward fashion. And I was able to pick up Ian, nurse him and feed him and get him to bed. That was probably the hardest. Then again, carrying him is probably what caused this in the first place.

My only concern is that my left wrist will hurt by the end of four months. I can tell you I certainly don't want to have two of these on at once.