SuperMOM

I have reached Super Power status. NBD.

NOW.. I don't want to brag, but my daughter talked about my powers all day long.

I don't fight COVID. I don't fight riots. I especially don't fight my almost 2yo on a no-nap day. Nope. I remove splinters. The deep kind. Out of a super fidgety kids foots.

Just like any other day, my kids get hurt. I rock the bad mom title and proceed with my Truly beverage. I tell them to shake it off and tough it out. Today was unlike those other days, my daughter didn't break her arm this time. It was much, much worse. She got a splinter in her foot. She was dancing just a little too hard on our deck and BAM! it happened. The world actually stopped in that split second to take a close listen to her whaling scream. It was like she just watched her favorite Barbie get swept away in a tornado. Imagine the horror.

I did what any mom would do and grabbed my tweezers to start the battle. We all have that one really good pair of tweezers right? Of course when you need them you can never find them. I searched and searched and all I could find was a thousand toenail clippers and only crappy tweezers. I grabbed what I could and headed to the battle field. If you haven't wrestled with a 7yo girl, it's very comparable to what you would see in the wild. Picture this: a squirrel trying to get an over-sized acorn through a just-too-small hole, then all of a sudden, an Eagle swoops down and knocks it to the ground. Heading back to our surgery; So here's me - doing my thing - when my daughters left foot comes out of nowhere and kicks the shit out of me. Of course by this time I'm bringing out my A-game and squeezing extra hard to hold that damn splinter foot from moving. The tears were flowing and screams were heard by everyone, I don't know who was louder though between her and I.

I threw in the white flag. The splinter was at least half way in her foot. I swear, it was never going to come out. She wouldn't stop fighting me, so I told her to live with it. I put neosporin on it with a band-aid and said "good luck. We might have to cut off your foot." Day over. Bedtime came and she was content with having the splinter also be apart of her body now.

When she woke up the next morning she was very happy. She said her foot didn't hurt anymore and that the splinter was just fine in there, which it was and hadn't even moved a bit overnight. Days went by and then BAM! it happened, again. This time it was in the super sensitive part of her foot, and bigger. If she would only stop dancing like she's trying out for World of Dance every time this would all stop happening. Deja Vu. Ironically throughout the days, I found my FAVORITE pair of tweezers and kept them safe for this very moment. It was go time! I grabbed my glasses and tweezers and headed to save the day. There was no surrendering.

When I found her, she was sprawled out on the ground with waterfalls flowing through her tear-ducts. She was screaming, "MY FOOT IS GOING TO BE CUT OFF!" I mean, maybe? Her sister was trying to calm her down, but instead just made the situation escalate. I can't pinpoint the exact moment that I almost cut off her foot circulation from squeezing it - but I'm guessing that hurt more than the splinter itself. Now I have a sudden understanding for nail techs when I'm getting a pedicure. You really have to have some strong biceps, oy.

IT CAME OUT. I can hardly believe it. She actually didn't believe it, had to check for herself. I moved to the remaining splinter and gave it hell. I dug in and after ripping apart most her callus through the bloodcurdling screams, it came out. I was a champion splinter remover. My superhero cape was flowing proudly behind me. Everyone that my daughter saw throughout the day knew about the removal and I played it ultra-cool, no big deal. Just another day.

She's broken her arm. She's had tubes in and adenoids out. She's twisted her knee. She's badly crashed on her bike. NOTHING compares to the pain of a splinter, and I was the one who removed it.

Mic Drop.

Hells