Disclaimer

This blog is not intended to provide legal advice, legal services or legal anything else. Don't sue me. All I have is debt anyway.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Crazy

Lots of crazy:

1. My mother. Crazy for many reasons, but the latest thing is her having gallbladder surgery. She's doing that on Friday. So, last week I went with her to the surgery consult, and then yesterday to what was supposed to be an ERCP, which turned out to only be an MRCP (the former being an invasive, sedation-requiring scope, and the latter being just an MRI), so that confusion, rescheduling, and driving to Hometown, kids in tow, really freakin' early in the morning, for no reason, aside, everything's a go for Friday surgery. Husband's best friend is drugging her, she asked him to do her anesthesia. Hopefully he'll send her home with plenty "to go." She needs sedation, sheesh.

2. My eldest child. Our house is a "reverse ranch," meaning we enter in what is technically the basement, and to access the main floor of the house (with ours and the kids' bedrooms), we take the staircase from the foyer. In the basement is a large den, a bedroom (previously occupied by the House Elf, and once again occupied by Husband when he sleeps during the day), a bathroom, and the door to the garage/utility room. The staircase has a nice sturdy gate at the top of the stairs, which we don't usually latch anymore, because Cora really never goes downstairs unless requested to do so (to wake up Daddy, for instance). Although we close it, to keep the dog upstairs, and if it's open, it blocks the hallway to the living room. I do, however, always latch the gate before I go to bed as part of my night-time routine, because I did a little bit of sleep-walking as a kid, and it's always my fear that someday Cora will do the same, and just fall right down the stairs.

Well...

Friday night, we hadn't even gotten ready for bed yet, it was about 11:30, and as of 10:30, Cora was still awake in her room (even though she'd gotten into bed at 9). We were in our bedroom, which is beside Cora's room. We heard the dog rustling around, but that's not unusual when it gets close to bedtime. Then we heard a thump and crying that sounded much too far away to be from her bedroom, and we immediately just KNEW. Found Cora at the bottom of the staircase, her face covered in blood. (Fortunately the Murse was home for this incident, because I would have freaked the fuck out. It's also pretty apparent that, as a result of her first emergency room visit, I cannot rationally deal with any emergent medical issues with this child, because I lose my shit. And I am usually a pretty cool cucumber when it comes to handling emergencies, keeping others calm, etc.)

Anyway, her nose was gushing blood, and she has knocked out one of her top front teeth, the other top front tooth being loose and out of place. She was coherent (well, as coherent as a bleeding 4 year old can be) and weaving together this story of why she was downstairs (multiple stories, actually, none of which pan out... the first was she had lost her Hello Kitty purse, she'd left it downstairs by the couch... it was in her room by her chair. The second was that she'd lost Lamby's blanket downstairs... Lamby doesn't have a blanket. It's a stuffed lamb. It never had a blanket.) The best we can figure is she made it to the bottom of the stairs (for some unknown reason) and came back up, but tripped in the dark, on her blanket she was carrying, and faceplanted on the stairs.

I wanted to take her to the emergency room, but the Murse assured me that she was fine, she hadn't hit her head, just her mouth and nose. The nose stopped bleeding after a few minutes, the tooth was knocked clean out, the gums had stopped bleeding, and although she'd had a lip laceration, it too had stopped bleeding. She was as coherent as she ever is (Lamby's blanket aside), and there's nothing that can be done about the tooth. We called the pediatric dental resident at the clinic (my dentist was out of town over the weekend) and confirmed there's nothing urgent, and I took her to the dentist on Monday for an x-ray. He says the other tooth will fall out. She's already lisping a little, she'll be lisping a lot more soon. Sucks. But she was pretty excited about the Tooth Fairy, who she'd never heard of because she's not supposed to lose her damn teeth for another 2 years or so. Two years without her front teeth. Ugh. Well, she's her father's daughter, he knocked his out as a toddler, as did our niece. Family trait, I'm guessing. She really didn't cry much though, which is funny, considering she'll scream like the world is coming to an end when, like, a friend won't share, but she knocks out her damn teeth, and she's like, yeah, whatev.

And, from now on, I'm keeping that fucking gate latched until she's at least 17. Maybe she'll keep the rest of her teeth for the next 2 years.

3. My clients. Today, I spent 3 hours in a settlement conference to bicker about frickin' household furniture. For reals. Fine by me, because that's actually a paying client, with money in escrow. Sure you don't want to individually name each piece of cutlery in your property settlement agreement? Win.

4. My husband. Started drinking when he came home from work this morning and was shit-faced by the time he went to bed at 3pm. Very bad night at work. He woke up at 7 to entertain his best friend, who brought Cora's best friend J and her little sister over to play (wanted to get them out of the house so J's mom could write her paper). As an aside, Cora made sure to point out where she bled on the stairs. (Nice.) Husband has since headed back down to his man cave to suffer through his hangover.

5. My youngest child. Honey Badger holds a grudge. Vee was being a cuddle whore when we got back from Cora's ballet class, and I was trying to make dinner, but every time I'd put her down, she'd scream. Finally, I just had to go put her in her crib and close the door and let her cry. She screamed bloody murder for about 20 minutes. Then I went to go get her, and she was still PISSED. She gave me seriously dirty looks and continued screaming at me, and it took about 5 or 10 minutes to completely console her. She's really not used to having to cry. She's really just such a good baby, that she doesn't cry unless she wants something/needs something. And usually she's chill at dinner time and sits in her seat and watches me cook dinner, or quietly watches us eat dinner when we're out. Not tonight. You could see it in her eyes, she was PISSED at me. Who knew she'd start gathering material for her tell-all book at age 5 months?

1 comment:

But I Do Have a Law Degree said...

Poor, Cora! But I swear, I now understand the meaning of "baby teeth." When Braden was about 18 months old (right after his two front teeth had fully grown in), he bit it on the stairs and fell into a cabinet and chipped his two front teeth in the shape of a V. I was mortified and thought surely, they do something for this? Nope, as per the pediatric dentist, they just ride it out! So Braden will spend his toddlerhood with chipped front teeth. We've both embraced it. I am sure you and Cora will too. :) And who knows, maybe she will be the cool girl in the class who lost her teeth first?