Disease & Dismemberment

Maisie has a relapse of Strep Throat.

Relapse as in: "MY THROAT HURTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" *pause briefly and repeat every 3 seconds*

Dear Brilliant Doctor -
When Maisie contracted strep throat for the 2nd time in 2 months and you wanted to put her on Amoxicillian, I clearly said "But the Amoxicillan didn't work the first time she had it." You assured me that you would put her on the adult dose - which would work. Yet oddly enough, 2 days after she ended her antibiotics run - she has had another relapse. Perhaps if you had listened to me - the pain she has experienced the past 24 hours hours could have been averted.
You owe me just under 20 hours divided in the following categories:

2 1/2 hours of sleep
25 minutes in the pharmacy
16 hours of "whine-free" time
30 minutes of laundry washing.

Fed Up,

Natalie

I'm too tired to recount the conversation with Mr. [why are you bothering me when I'm out cruisin' in my Beemer] On-Call Dr. but Maisie is now on her 4th round of antibiotics in 2 monthes. Did I mention she has only been on antibiotics once or twice in her life before this whole strep thing. Today, 4 people have informed me of the magic of "Zithromax". I'll keep that in mind for next time.

Maisie vomitted 6 times last night between the hours of 1am-3am. She then handed the baton to Dach who was kind enough to wake up at 6:45am. I think I almost got 4 hours of combined sleep. It goes nicely with the 5 hours a night I've been averaging this week. "Now, sprinkle in PMS, stir till boiling then let simmer."

I am now going to go to bed. Before someone wakes up demanding my services. "So, sorry - office hours are between 9am-9pm. Please submit your written request and it will be handled in a timely manner."

Did I mention that I'm going on a Women's Retreat this weekend? Did I mention that I've taken on a kajillion to many things to do for the retreat. I will be writing 4 skits...tomorrow. Nothing like a deadline to get the creative juices going...

The bright side is that Dach's finger suffered no additional damage today. Unless you count when his brother accidently hit it with a stick when they were sword-fighting. I say, No blood - No foul...

Apply pressure, cry, repeat...

Monday night:

"24" night.

Get-the-kids-to-bed-early-so-we-can-peacefully-watch-our-biggest-obsession-on-tv-night.

At approximately 9:40pm on the night in question, screams were heard from upstairs. Seconds later - Zane appeared "Dach's wrap came off his finger!"

O----KAY. Don't panic. This would be the 3rd time in 48 hours it has come off, we can handle this.

3 seconds later, the (now hysterical) Dach appears with blood dripping down his arm.

OH. MY. GOODNESS.

Panic: part deux!

"WHAT IN THE WORLD?!?!?!"

Zane starts chanting "I'M SO SORRY! I'M SO SORRY! I'M SO SORRY! I'M SO SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!"

I grabbed Dach and frantically tried to get a package of gauze open to soak up the blood.

Dilemma: Do I apply pressure to something that is excruciating pain when it is even touched? How much is THAT gonna hurt when I press firmly on it? Then I remember: "Yes! Jack Bauer applied pressure directly on Audrey Reins knife wound. I must apply pressure.

I apply pressure which sends Dach into more hysterical sobbing. After I get some of the blood off and get a better look I see where the blood is coming from - it looks like a stich may have been popped! What do we do? Do we take him to the ER to get it restitched? *Please catch me while I pass out*

"WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?!" I demand to the boys.

Between sobs Dach answers, "We were in our beds ...sob...and Zane was trying to take my toy [stuffed Tigger] from me...sniffle...and he tried to grab it but ...sob...he grabbed my finger and pulled off my bandage!!"

This would be the moment that my husband exercised self control that I have never seen the likes of.

"GO. WAIT. FOR. ME. IN. THE. BATHROOM. UNTIL. I. CAN. TALK. TO. YOU."

Several minutes later, we got the bleeding stopped and Hubby looked at the finger. "I don't think he had stitching across that part. I think they only stitches across the sides." The blood had been coming from just below the nail bed. Since we had gotten the bleeding stopped, Hubby didn't think we needed to take him in anywhere and suggested we clean him up and rewrap it.

Now as for Zane...Hubby gave him a firm talking to. Zane was so horrified at what he'd done and was truly, truly sorry. We told him we forgave him but that we would have to discuss the incident more with him tomorrow.

I just don't even know what to do with him. I -KNOW- that it was an accident ...BUT... it happened because they were being disobedient in their beds when they should have been going to sleep. There are consequences for disobedience - this time it was a tremendous amount of pain for Dach and could have been a trip to the ER. Earlier in the evening they had been playing outside and Zane bumped Dach's finger because they were horsing around. UGH.

We normally don't "punish" for accidents. We punish for deliberate disobedience but I feel strongly there needs to be some sort of learning experience/consequence to drive home the point of what can happen when we aren't thinking through things. Ie: is it a good idea to be snatching things out of someone's hand that has a major injury? or...Is it a good idea to play baseball 15 feet from the kitchen window while facing it?

***cleansing breath***

And to cause all of this during 24! Excuse me - Jack Bauer is the only one allowed to draw blood between 9-10pm on Monday nights.

I'm seriously going to need some coffee today...

PIG BOOTY: that oh-so-scrumpdillyicious treat!!

I was just listening to the new jammin' radio station in Seattle when an old favorite came on. "Rump Shaker" I don't even know if that is the official name of it. It actually wasn't one of MY old favorites. It was my sister's favorite when she was a rebellious 15 year old living with Hubby & I about 11 years ago. Every morning after unwillingly D-R-A-G-G-I-N-G herself out of bed I'd hear the following words pulsating out of her bedroom:

"All I wanna do is zoom-a-zoom zoom and a boom-boom. Said shake your rump"

It was interspersed with "Brown Sugar Baby" and whatever else was popular with 15 year olds in 1995.

So anyway - I just called her "Hey El Freak-o, Your theme song is on".

I was singing it when I asked "Does anyone know what a rump is?"

My disco fever Maisie promptly yelled "BOOTY!!"

Then I had a thought.

Did you guys know that we eat pork rump roast? What do you suppose that is?

*insert moment of concentrated thinking silence*

Then - the horror of 3 children as they all unanimously shouted:

"WE EAT PIG BUTT!!!!! EEEEWWWWWWW!!!"

What do you mean you aren't hungry for dinner my little darlings...

The tale of the 9-fingered boy...

Well more accurately - "The tale of the ALMOST 9-fingered boy".

We had a little accident.

Actually we had a large accident.

Little known fact #1: A 1928 solid wood bathroom door is powerful enough to guillotine the end of a small child's finger when said finger becomes accidently caught in the door.

Little known fact #2: Natalie is good for nothing in emergency situations and becomes a screaming sobbing hysterical mess. *crosses nursing off career options*

Little known fact #3: It IS possible to bypass the waiting room of an ER if a 3 year old with a dangling finger is screaming loud enough.

*takes deep breath and psyches self up to share gory details one more time*

Well, first of all - Friday was one of those children-disobeying-every-second-making-you-want-to-fly-to-Maui kind of days:

At home - "We do not snatch toys from people!" "We do not run around naked - this is your LAST warning to GET DRESSED!" "We do not hit people!" "I said - get your shoes WE ARE LEAVING NOW!!!" "Who dumped this pile of dirt all over my porch?!?!" "We do not run out in the street when we are supposed to be getting in the van!"

Me, on the phone with Hubby - "Please can you come home early...like now?"

At home school resource center art class - "We do NOT run in the halls!" "We do not stand on countertops!" "We do not climb in other people's cabinets!" "You may NOT play bouncy balls on people's desks."

Me, on the phone with Hubby - "When can you come home?"

At Jo-Ann Fabrics - "We do not pull 5 bolts of fabric onto the floor and run away!" "No, I'm not here to sew you a wardrobe of Strawberry Shortcake clothing." "Don't touch that - it's breakable! Remember what happened at Ikea?!?!"

Me, on the phone with Hubby - "When are you leaving work?!?!"

In the car - "We do not tear paper into tiny pieces and throw it on the floor!" "We do NOT eat any food out of our carseat that wasn't purchased TODAY!!" "We do not throw garbage at each other!" "We do not pull hair!" We do not kick chairs!" "No, we are NOT going out for ice cream!!"

Me, on the phone with Hubby - "Are you leaving yet?!?!"

At Safeway - "No, you can't have that." "NO, you CAN'T have that." "NO, YOU CAN'T HAVE THAT!!!"

Me, on the phone with Hubby - "PLEASE COME HOME RIGHT NOW!!!!!!"

Back at home - "We do not hit with sticks!" "We do not stand on the top of the fence!" "We do not throw toys down the stairs!" "You will be spending the rest of the afternoon in your beds till Daddy gets home!"

*enter silence*

Hubby arrived home at 6pm and promptly marched Zane into the bathroom for a "man-to-man chat" regarding his behavior for the day. He then called Maisie in for her chat. Right when he closed the door, Dach (who was standing in the hallway outside the bathroom door) yelled. I looked over from the corner I was rocking and muttering in the couch and realized his finger was caught in the door.

"HONEY - OPEN THE DOOR!! I THINK HIS FINGER IS CAUGHT!!

Hubby flung open the door and grabbed his wrist to look at his finger, "WE HAVE TO GO THE ER RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I jumped up and caught sight of a dangling bleeding finger as Hubby rushed past me to the van. I immediately started to scream and cry. *Just my little way of saying "Here kids, this is how you handle a crisis!"*

Hubby was screaming for a towel and somehow I managed to get one for him. He wrapped it around Dach's finger and yelled "HOLD THIS ON THERE!" and off they drove. I went to grab my keys to follow him with the rest of the kids in the other van and I couldn't find my keys!

I immediately began tearing apart the house while screaming "JESUS HELP ME FIND MY KEYS!! OH, MY BABY - HELP MY BABY!!" I'm sure it was QUITE the scene! MY kids just stood in the middle of the living room frozen and sobbing. *I have that affect on people*

Georgia sprung into action after a couple of minutes and started helping me look for the keys *thank you God that she is like her father and not me* She found them for me and off we drove.
We got to the ER about 5 minutes after Hubby and the receptionist took one look at the 4 of us sobbing and said "Are you the Mother of the boy with the cut finger?" "YES!!" I sobbed.

Then she went into her soothing slow-motion hypnosis voice "OK---if---you---can---just---caaaaaaaalm---down---it---will---help---your---little---boy. It's---going---to---be---oooooooooo-kayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

"I KNOW!!! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" *she screamed hysterically*

The nurse came to lead me back to the room but as she noticed the 3 children behind me she said "Oh." *as in - "Regulations state that 3 small sobbing children cannot enter the exam room with injured sobbing patient"* They put the 3 kids in a private waiting room and took me in to see Dach. OH, that poor baby - lying there sobbing on a hospital bed with 4 nurses surrounding him.

The Dr. pulled Hubby & I out of the room to explain the procedure and in an ever-so-slighty condescending tone informed me that "It REALLY would be better if you could calm down." And then proceeded to explain the procedure as if he were telling a 6 year old.

*I. AM. NOT. STUPID. I'M. JUST. HYSTERICAL.*

I elected Hubby as the stay-in-the-room-and-watch-the-procedure parent since I was way beyond handling that. They actually finished it within 15 minutes of when I left the room. The Dr had explained that the finger had been severed just between the first knuckle and the bottom of nail bed (of his left ring finger). It was cut in the shape of a "C" going around his finger with just the pad (where his fingerprint is) still attached. They were able to sew it back on and the x-ray showed (miraculously) no broken bones or cut ligaments!

They wrapped it up and informed us to get the stitches out in 6-7 days and to CHANGE THE BANDAGES EVERY DAY. *insert sound of squealing wheels* What? Excuse me? Unwrap his gory finger and re-wrap it EVERY day for a week?!?! Are you kidding me? I can barely do knee scrapes!

***There was ONE amusing moment when I announced to the very obviously single and childless studly male nurse that I was far too squeamish to change the bandages. And then launched into a detailed account of my horror in changing the gauze after my boys' circumcisions and how gross it was when the gauze would stick to --IT--. He looked like he was either going to puke or reach over & take a swig of Dach's codeine when I said the word circumcision. Hubby later informed me that oddly enough - men do NOT enjoy women talking about circumcision details.***

The next night (Saturday) Hubby & I gathered up the courage to change the bandages which Dach (and myself) wimpered through. We finally got it all done and put him to bed but at 4:45am *Happy Mother's Day to me* Dach woke up sobbing because his bandages had come off in his bed and his wound was hurting and exposed!! It was QUITE the scene. Dach was sobbing, I was sobbing and Hubby & I were arguing over the proper way to wrap it so it wouldn't fall off again! 75 inches of rolled gauze later...

I just laid there crying for at least an hour afterward. *silently screaming "I CAN'T HANDLE THIS!!!!* I was a total wreck at church the next day: fried from lack of sleep, emotionally exhausted, and barely able to "recount the most horrific moment of my life" to yet another person.

**aside** - I DID receive a soldering iron from Hubby for Mother's Day -as requested-. Perhaps it will be a useful medical tool. And much to my irritation it's pronounced saw-ter-ing - not that you'd know it from the spelling of our brilliant language! **end aside**

*clears throat* "Your attention please.........recounting my son's horrifying accident is NOT, I repeat NOT an invitation to share your most gory life experiences with me! I do NOT "do" blood and gore. I am a "vomit and diarrhea purist". I have so many dear friends and family members but I have NO desire to listen to detailed accounts of unfortunate dismemberment narratives! Really. People. Enough. I could now create an excel spreadsheet of the various emergency room accounts I have heard in the past 48 hours.

Dear Santa -
I have been a very good girl this year. Please send me a gross of barf bags and a rubber room.
Sincerely,
Natalie

And after accosting every nurse at church and BEGGING them to come to my house every day this week to change the dressings I made an appt with Dach's Dr today. The "I'd like him to look at the wound" appt was actually an "I'd like someone more qualified than me to change the dressing" appt. Shhh.

For those of you able to stomach it. Would you like to see a photo of the wound?
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Are you sure? Ok, don't say I didn't warn you!!!
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OH, WAIT...I DON'T HAVE A DIGITAL CAMERA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hold on, let me get you a photo from the "Ghetto-cam"...
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Who needs a digital camera when you have "ghetto-cam"?!

The silver lining is I'll be LONG GONE on a Women's Retreat on Friday afternoon when the stitches come out! You may wanna pray for Hubby, as this time HE'LL be the one to experience 4 kids crammed in a tiny exam room in the middle of naptime while a skiddish 3 year old has stiches pulled out. *shudder* And that's only the BEGINNING of his glorious weekend without me...

Breakin' up is hard to do...

Newsflash:

My camera is still broken! I repeat: My camera is still broken! It lasted 3 years and 3 months.

"Good bye dear treasured object - I will miss you. Thanks for the several thousand pictures!"

That is all.

I'd take a picture of me in mourning...but I can't.

**heavy sigh**

*thinks*

Well, it would be worse if it were near a birthday. Or Christmas. Or Easter. Or summertime. I guess all we'll miss is Memorial Day...

We are working on getting another one. I'll be buying it with my good looks. *pauses to freshen up*

Hubby says "GO TO BED - IT'S MIDNIGHT!!!"

Righto!

Hmn, bedtime should be interesting: My personality meter is set to "hyperactive and spazzy" right now. Hubby's is set to "responsible human being". Heh. It's ----ALL----- I can do to not make loud obnoxious noises right when he drifts off to sleep.

Ok - he beckons...

Mr. Eggo, why must you hurt my brain?

So, I am sitting here looking at the nutritional value of "Apple Cinnanon Eggos" *not that they are really KNOWN for nutritional value* and once again I discover that - the universe is askew!

Serving size - 2 wafflesCalories per serving - 190 OR Calories per waffle - 100

I'll let that resonate for a moment....
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100 calories per waffle or 190 calories per 2 waffles.

Was I absent that day - or is 100 plus 100 still 200?!

So, based on Eggo's brilliant mathematical figuring - I lose 10 calories with every Eggo that I consume. It's like a punchcard: if I eat 9 waffles, the 10th one is free!! People, this is what keeps me up at night!

I think I'll go wash those Eggos down with some FAT FREE half-n-half...


~ASIDE~ As of last night, my camera is completely BRO-KEN! Like "dropped on it's head" broken. *big heavy depressed sigh* To give you perspective: in MY world - this is worse than a broken car! ~END ASIDE~