My Kid Circus

For some crazy reason, I thought that D’s stitches would be the “big event” this summer.  I called that one wrong.

Last night we got back from 24 hours at the Children’s Hospital with little Miss K.  There is no nice way to put this. She got her hand stuck in our paper shredder. 🙁

Thursday afternoon I had just turned to my computer to download some pictures from my camera when I hear the paper shredder turn on and K start to scream.  I’m pretty sure this was immediately mixed with my own screams.  I got it turned off, but there was no way to get her hand out.

I think I was in a state of shock, but managed to call my mother-in-law to see if she could come get the boys, and when I told her what happened, she called 911.

I sat on the floor with K, both of us crying, while Z stood looking out of the window for the firetruck, also crying, and D ran back and forth between us trying to pat our backs and comfort us.  Our wonderful next door neighbor came by and got the boys right when the firetrucks arrived.

The firemen attempted to get the shredder off of her hand, but were obviously hurting her, so I kept yelling at them to stop.  They seemed frustrated with me, and told me they would just have to transport us to the hospital.  I said that would be just fine.

In the ambulance, I held K with one arm, and the shredder with the other.  We reached the hospital, and were taken immediately to a trauma room, where my husband met us.  There were approximately 20 people in the room; doctors, nurses, a chaplain, child life specialists, etc.  It was overwhelming, but I do remember feeling relieved that this team of people would figure out how to take care of my baby, and all I had to do at that point was hold her and comfort her, and let them do their jobs.  I was also reassured when I heard one of the doctors say to another, “Well, last time what we did was…”.  I was so glad they had had a last time, and I wasn’t the only one out there competing for the “worst mother” award.

The doctors assessed the situation, and attempted several things to remove the shredder.  These things didn’t work, so they had to call someone from the maintenance department to bring down a saw.  They attempted a small saw, which didn’t work, and then told us all to shield our eyes while they tried a bigger saw. (At this point K had morphine and something to calm her down.  She was still crying, but I don’t think she was in too much pain).  Luckily they had a sheet up, so Kaitlyn and I could not see what was happening with the shredder, or what her fingers looked like when they came out.

Her poor little fingers were smashed and badly cut.  Initially it was hard to tell how badly they were injured, but over the next few hours, and x-rays, we found out that there were no broken bones, and most likely her fingers would heal okay.

They kept us overnight to monitor blood flow in her fingers, and to give her antibiotics and pain medicine.  She really did great, the entire time.  Thank goodness for Elmo.  We watched, “Adventures of Elmo in Grouchland“, four times straight that night.

Of course, as a mother, there are really no words to express how terrible this was.  I was overcome with guilt that this happened to my baby, fear about the future of her poor little hand, and absolute anguish over my baby in pain.  Today these feelings are all still fresh, but I am also so grateful that she is really and truly okay, and that she is navigating her world with one hand and a smile on her face.

So happy to be home!!

Yesterday morning I was making lunches for the boys to take to day camp.  The little guy was helping me, apparently a little too well.  That night, my husband took out the cheese for some cheese and crackers.  Here is what he found:

Hmm, suspicious.

On another note, Z has been badly needing new sneakers.  He has always had some opinions on what kind of shoes I bought him, but these usually were, “I want the spiderman kind that light up”.  This time, however, he told me, “I want ‘Sketchers’.  They are SO cool!  They are on TV!!”.  Oh no.  I was initially taken aback at what a “mature” request this was.  Later, however, he made me feel a little better.  He told me that he was pretty sure that superheros wear light-up Sketchers, and that he was thinking he might actually be a superhero, he just hasn’t discovered his powers yet.  I was so relieved that he really is still five.  I bought the Sketchers. 🙂

Z has really been into bargaining lately too.  The most recent thing has been when he is wanting to watch TV, and I have said no.  He will turn to me and say, “PLEASE, Mommy!  I will say, ‘I love you'”.  Then he tries to up that with “I will say ‘I love you’ AND give you a hug!”.  Hmm, not taking the bait on that one.

For a long time now, my husband and I have joked that our little guy is going to be the one that we will be rushing to the hospital for stitches and broken bones.  He is just such a rough and tumble little guy with pretty much no fear.  Last night, we had our first chance.

The boys were running around the house after dinner while I was changing baby K.  My mother-in-law tells me that she and her siblings were NEVER allowed to run in the house.  We, however, have been somewhat lax about that, and generally if the kids are enjoying each other, we let them.  I may need to be more on top of that now, as the little guy tripped in the dining room, and cut his forehead pretty badly.

As soon as I heard my husband call my name, I knew it was not good, and ran in to see both of them covered in blood.  We jumped in the car, dropped off Z and K with Grandma, and rushed to the Childrens’ Hospital.

Luckily, everything seemed to work in our favor when we got there.  There was no one in the waiting room, and Toy Story was playing on TV.  D seemed to be starting to enjoy himself sitting with both of his parents while volunteers brought him crayons and coloring pages.

We were taken back to a room quickly, and the little guy just sat quietly while they numbed his head, we waited, and they came back to stitch him up.  For a bad looking cut that had a huge amount of blood, it only took 3 stitches.

As we got home, a very concerned Z ran out to check on D.  D yells out, “It was SO fun!  I got a bandaid and a popsicle!” All in all, not such a bad day for a 3 year old.  Not at all a fantastic day for us parents!!

The last few weeks of school we started getting consistent reports from the little guy’s teacher that he is a “ladies man” at school.  One of his teachers’ quotes was, “he really knows how to take care of the ladies”.  She said that he likes to put his arm around them, walk them into the class, and “give them those big blue eyes!”.  Yikes, this guy is 3!  What are we going to have on our hands at age 16??

Shortly after this report, his teacher put him into the car and said, “Well, D was kissing today”.  Whoa.  I really wanted to laugh, but I also thought that I better take the mom role and tell him that kissing is not allowed at school.  I attempted to do that, and he looked at me in all seriousness and said, “I didn’t kiss her.  She kissed me.  I didn’t like it, and I did NOT smile.” Well, what is a guy to do, I guess.  I decided to let that one drop until the very next school day when I was told that he was kissing again, only this time a different girl.  Yikes.  Still, his story didn’t change.  “Mommy, she kissed me on the head.  I didn’t like it”.

A short time later, D told me that this second little girl is his “princess”.  Oh my.

His two teachers told me they have a bet going that he will marry another girl in the class. I think this is mainly because he looks at her adoringly and does whatever she wants him to do.  What every good marriage is made of.

I think we are going to have our hands full with this guy…

I got dressed this morning, walked out, and Z laughs out loud and says, “you look like you work at Target!!”.  I’m really not sure how to respond to this.  Target is his all-time favorite place, so should I consider it a compliment??  I know my wardrobe consists more of ‘clothes that are easy to throw on and get everyone out of the door in 10 minutes’ than fashionable attire, but am I really being made fun of by my 5 year old???  This does not look good for my future.

But later today, I had the little guy in time out, and baby K was having a complete melt-down.  Z patted my back and said, “I know it’s tough.  It is a little out of control, and that can be really tough.”  Wow.  He totally redeemed himself. 🙂