Wow! What a day! It started out rather uneventful, but things escalated and got totally out of hand. I won't count it over until I'm snug in my bed and totally and completely unconscious. For instance, at the moment, my son is running around the house like a wet and naked kamikaze baby... an hour and a half past bedtime.
Before I get into the nitty gritty, I would like to count my blessings and make them public knowledge here and now:
ONE- While Kurstin was deposed to her room (well, Tyler's actually- there's nothing to entertain her in there) for the offense of "attitude-weilding", rather than thinking of all the things she hates about her life, or me, or how unfair it all is, she was contemplating the fact that I "put up with a lot of stuff" from them and need/deserve a break. So she and Elissa sent me off to have some "me" time while they held down the fort.
TWO- My two-year-old prays. He really prays. He thanks Jesus for things like the trampoline, our food, his mommy and daddy, and brothers and sisters (by name). He squeezes his little eyes shut and thinks of all the good things God has given him.
THREE- Elissa hugged me today and said, "You're a good mom." What more could I ask for? I know there are many more, and I even thought of some today, but they seem to have gotten lost in the chaos...
So on my little date with myself... well, actually before me and me really got to do any bonding, I got a call from home. This is where it all starts to unravel. Kurstin is hysterical, which does
nothing for my nerves, being that she, Elissa and Robben are home alone. She proceeds to tell me that Elissa has fallen and hit her chin and a chunk is missing and there's lots of blood and she's crying
really hard. For how hard Kurstin was crying, it seemed like she was the one who was hurt. In fact, she was telling God over and over that she wished it had been her rather than Elissa (ah, blessing #4). So I abandon my time off and rush home. Elissa has gotten her emotions under control...
just under control. I take a gander and sure enough, a gapping hole about 1" in length and probably about 1/4" wide. She asks me if it's broken and I tell her no, but I think she'll need stitches. No longer under control. She starts crying again. She's scared, not knowing what to expect. Luckily our doctor is able and available, so I head back into Sanger with Frightened Nine-Year-Old in tow. We wait, oh, an hour and a half, in anticipation. I assure her that she won't feel a thing after the novacaine shot and so on and so forth. We are ushered into the "surgery" room, which I think should be called something pleasant like the "bubble gum factory" or the "wonder emporium" or something. Surgery! Kick the fear up a notch, why don't you! Well, the shots were torture. He rooted around
inside the wound while tears streamed down her face to her ears and I squeezed her hand till her fingers were purple, almost to the point of amputation. Once it was numb, I assured her that the worst part was over. I wasn't lying, I was merely mistaken. I figured after the internal scrubbing he gave it, she wouldn't be able to feel a thing. She felt the first stitch. She cryed a high-pitched whining cry, with "ow, ow, ow" mixed in for flavor. Again with the purple fingers. I later learned that she wanted to scream but "that would have been unnecessary" (she said). So he rooted around some more, numbing the site more thoroughly and proceeded with 3 more stitches. Afterwards I was congratulated for my bravery and my iron-grip on consciousness. Apparently most parents end up having to leave the room on the verge of passing out. I felt a little nauseous, but otherwise fine, if not horrified. Afterwards we hit Baskin Robbins with
carte blanche.
By this time it was 5:30 so we went to pick up Tyler from track practice (and naturally had to wait 30 minutes, because they're always running late when you are actually there on time), meanwhile making alternate plans for dinner since I wasn't home to cook. Taco Bell. Upon arriving home I found out some more bad news...
We have a cousin (of sorts) that is in the hospital. She was born with her heart on the wrong side and upside down, too much of this, not enough of that, and what-in-the-heck-are-those. They told her parents that she'd be lucky to live 4 months. That was 45 years ago! About a week ago she had a stroke (and they say a heart attack, but who can be sure in such circumstances?). She's now in the hospital and not expected to make it. Not sure how long. The thing is, they thought that 45 years ago, too, so we are keeping the hope alive. Anyway, at dinner, Todd said he thought we should go see her. So we all throw our Taco Bell wrappers away (down-home cookin' that makes mama proud!), get Robben in jammies, and jump in the car. Thankfully we got there before visiting hours ended (another blessing!). We all crammed into her room for a short visit, lest we sap her of all the energy she needs to fight for her life. Heck, we sap me, I can only imagine what we do to others. We only stayed for about 20 minutes or so (less time than it took to get there). As we left, she said something important to each one of us... like maybe goodbye but hopefully not. It made me feel really sad, because she has a lot of things she still wants to do, relationship wise. She told me she wants to get to know me better and be friends. I just feel like she's not at peace right now. She's thinking of everything she doesn't want to miss. If she comes through this, I hope I can find a way to help her achieve these things so that when she
is lying on her deathbed, she doesn't have regrets by her side.
Almost over... on the way home, Robben begins hacking and pukes up a bunch of mucus, which has no doubt been covertly making its way down his throat. You know, the day just wouldn't be complete without somebody having some sort of uncontrollable bodily malfunction. So our day wound down with Todd giving Robben a bubble bath at 9pm (which brings us back to the wet and naked kamikaze baby that was pinballing around my living room/kitchen when this conversation began) and me hitting the carseat with mass quantities of baby wipes. It's gonna stink in there tomorrow... I didn't leave the windows cracked, because at this rate, I figure that's akin to hiring some Professional Aboriginal Rain Dancers to call down the Waters of Heaven.
All that being said, I'm sure you can all understand my need for
two trips to Starbucks today :)
Oh, and the Blessing of all Blessings: Thank you, God, for giving me the Gift of Flexibility!
There are days that my little Robben is a model of obedience and kindness; days where I feel like I am doing a good job as his mommy; days that I feel like I can do this.
