Today, I’m writing for Lori over at Randon Ramblings of a Stay at Home Mum (RRSAHM). If you don’t know Lori, she’s a beautiful writer and a hell of a woman.
After the tragic loss of her husband, she laid her soul bare on her journey back to being ok.
Lori is about to embark on the journey of a lifetime by going to Borneo to raise money for the Orang Utans.
I wish I was going, but my own monkeys are still too little.
I can remember the very first time my son, D Man, hurt himself on my watch. It was one of those split second, yet slow motion, affairs that consisted of him rolling off the bed at about 6 months old.
His fall was broken by an open cupboard door and he kind of rolled onto the floor without injury, but he got a fright and bawled, and I felt like the worst Mama ever.
He got over it in minutes, I was fine in a few hours and a glass of wine and the world kept turning. Now, barely a day goes by without some form of head injury, and for the most part they are nothing serious…..but when it is a bit more serious, and that silent scream prefaces the tears, in that instant, I know that I would take all of my child’s pain if I could and make them feel better.
I can remember my very first heart-break. I was about 11, and I’d been a rat-bag, scallywag and had been kissing Matthew Forsyth under water at the local pool, as you do. When Matthew told everybody and I was branded a scarlet woman, I was devastated.
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