(first a disclaimer...although I believe this is actually a bit of a tragic case, there is always humor found even in the darkest moments. And although it may appear as if I am laughing at my son, I'm actually just trying to find the light in the dark).
Four day weekends make me cry.
I mean seriously, the kids JUST went back to school. Do they need a four day weekend? No. Also, MWF's are days that I try to write my thesis, because all of the kids are at school in the afternoon....so yesterday and Monday are basically blown - I will be playing the role of referee for the next several days. And although that does sharpen up my Football call knowledge, it does nothing for my thesis.
So, resigned to the fact that I would just have to do housework yesterday, I decided to get caught up on laundry.
It's a fact that in my house the second my foot hits the basement steps (where the washer/dryer are) a fight breaks out. Blood curdling screams, smacks, something broken...every single time. I actually have a moral dilemma going on in my head when I do laundry: Do laundry and have children fight or stay safely up stairs with quiet children and dirty clothes.
Eventually we need clean clothes, and I make the trek downstairs.
So around 6:30 last night I was on my 6th load of laundry for the day (and it had only been 2 days since I'd done any laundry...ugh), and whilst transferring clothes from the washer to the dryer I heard a horrible scream.
More horrible than usual.
Ear splitting.
I ran upstairs and saw James Henry shoot by me at the speed of light, moving as fast as he could towards his father.
All other kids, with the exception of Violet, came running behind him. Yelling things like, "OH MY GOD. Are you OK!? JAMES ARE YOU OK!?" and of course the ever present, "I DIDN'T DO IT! IT WAS VIOLET!"
Half the time I'm not a believer of the "I didn't do it, it was Violet." But since she was suspiciously absent, I knew where blame fell.
What followed was five minutes of us trying to figure out what happened, washing James Henry's eye out the best we could, and a call to the Poison Control Hotline -- they told us to go to the ER.
All the while James Henry is screaming, "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"
And Maisy yelling, "You're not going to die! It's just like eyeliner! Permanent though. You'll just have one Cleopatra eye."
And then James sobbing, "I don't want a Cleopatra eye!"
Now, all that was wrong with James Henry was his eye. But the minute he heard he had to go to the ER his legs quit working.
"Mom. I can't walk. My legs. MY LEGS!"
Hysteria had paralyzed him.
I bundled my poor little guy up and prepared to carry him to the car.
Then he went totally limp.
"My arms. My arms won't work either. I'M GOING TO DIE."
It was pretty tragic.
Just then Violet peeped her head out of her room, and in her tiniest voice said "I'm so sorry."
I would have felt badly for her, had I not been holding a paralyzed blinded child.
Chris took her emergence as an opportunity to spank her and ground her forever.
And I left the house with poor skinny James (who weighs as much as he is tall).
Now the thought hadn't escaped me that Violet is perhaps a powerful evil genius...because after all, James does suffer from hearing loss....so she decides to strike at his next more powerful sense...sight. Don't worry. I'm onto her now.
Once we arrived at the hospital, James Henry's legs had made a mild recovery...but not enough to walk. So, I powered through, carrying James, my purse, and his big blanket. I wish I had a picture, because he was all laid back damsel in distress style....although I'm sure I looked far from a knight in a shining armor.
When I walked in the ER and explained what happened, everyone tried very hard not to laugh. The nurse did say that in the 9 years she had worked there, that she had never seen anything like it.
And somehow this did not surprise me.
James Henry insists that Violet fell on him while carrying nail polish (something she isn't allowed to have, and I'm still trying to figure out how she got it). However, it looked as if James was the perfect little makeover client...because that eye was masterfully painted shut. If she tripped and fell on him with it, wouldn't it have been everywhere? Not just in two perfect lines?
I think this was a team effort gone terribly wrong.
It took a little more than an hour in the ER flushing his eye with saline, numbing it, and then flushing it again.
After that we had to put dye in it, and look...and sure enough there are Cornea abrasions. So, he has to see an opthamologist next week, and hopefully there is no lasting damage.
When I got home with him, he told me that his legs and arms were working again. So, he was able to walk himself inside.
Maisy had laid out a robe, jammies, cup of tea, and book for me....with a note that said, "Dear Mom, just sit down and relax."
I would have loved to have taken her sweet advice, but upon entering the house I discovered that while I was gone no one had let the dogs out....and they both had needed to go out = mess to clean up.
PLUS, I had to return to that basement and finish the laundry.
Thankfully that trip down there yielded no terrible surprises, everyone had worn themselves out for the night.
Could it be that Violet is just an artist? The hair cutting, the wall coloring, the permanent eye make up design?
Well, I don't know. I do know she's somethin'.....
Four day weekends make me cry.
I mean seriously, the kids JUST went back to school. Do they need a four day weekend? No. Also, MWF's are days that I try to write my thesis, because all of the kids are at school in the afternoon....so yesterday and Monday are basically blown - I will be playing the role of referee for the next several days. And although that does sharpen up my Football call knowledge, it does nothing for my thesis.
So, resigned to the fact that I would just have to do housework yesterday, I decided to get caught up on laundry.
It's a fact that in my house the second my foot hits the basement steps (where the washer/dryer are) a fight breaks out. Blood curdling screams, smacks, something broken...every single time. I actually have a moral dilemma going on in my head when I do laundry: Do laundry and have children fight or stay safely up stairs with quiet children and dirty clothes.
Eventually we need clean clothes, and I make the trek downstairs.
So around 6:30 last night I was on my 6th load of laundry for the day (and it had only been 2 days since I'd done any laundry...ugh), and whilst transferring clothes from the washer to the dryer I heard a horrible scream.
More horrible than usual.
Ear splitting.
I ran upstairs and saw James Henry shoot by me at the speed of light, moving as fast as he could towards his father.
All other kids, with the exception of Violet, came running behind him. Yelling things like, "OH MY GOD. Are you OK!? JAMES ARE YOU OK!?" and of course the ever present, "I DIDN'T DO IT! IT WAS VIOLET!"
Half the time I'm not a believer of the "I didn't do it, it was Violet." But since she was suspiciously absent, I knew where blame fell.
What followed was five minutes of us trying to figure out what happened, washing James Henry's eye out the best we could, and a call to the Poison Control Hotline -- they told us to go to the ER.
All the while James Henry is screaming, "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"
And Maisy yelling, "You're not going to die! It's just like eyeliner! Permanent though. You'll just have one Cleopatra eye."
And then James sobbing, "I don't want a Cleopatra eye!"
Now, all that was wrong with James Henry was his eye. But the minute he heard he had to go to the ER his legs quit working.
"Mom. I can't walk. My legs. MY LEGS!"
Hysteria had paralyzed him.
I bundled my poor little guy up and prepared to carry him to the car.
Then he went totally limp.
"My arms. My arms won't work either. I'M GOING TO DIE."
It was pretty tragic.
Just then Violet peeped her head out of her room, and in her tiniest voice said "I'm so sorry."
I would have felt badly for her, had I not been holding a paralyzed blinded child.
Chris took her emergence as an opportunity to spank her and ground her forever.
And I left the house with poor skinny James (who weighs as much as he is tall).
Now the thought hadn't escaped me that Violet is perhaps a powerful evil genius...because after all, James does suffer from hearing loss....so she decides to strike at his next more powerful sense...sight. Don't worry. I'm onto her now.
Once we arrived at the hospital, James Henry's legs had made a mild recovery...but not enough to walk. So, I powered through, carrying James, my purse, and his big blanket. I wish I had a picture, because he was all laid back damsel in distress style....although I'm sure I looked far from a knight in a shining armor.
When I walked in the ER and explained what happened, everyone tried very hard not to laugh. The nurse did say that in the 9 years she had worked there, that she had never seen anything like it.
And somehow this did not surprise me.
James Henry insists that Violet fell on him while carrying nail polish (something she isn't allowed to have, and I'm still trying to figure out how she got it). However, it looked as if James was the perfect little makeover client...because that eye was masterfully painted shut. If she tripped and fell on him with it, wouldn't it have been everywhere? Not just in two perfect lines?
I think this was a team effort gone terribly wrong.
It took a little more than an hour in the ER flushing his eye with saline, numbing it, and then flushing it again.
After that we had to put dye in it, and look...and sure enough there are Cornea abrasions. So, he has to see an opthamologist next week, and hopefully there is no lasting damage.
When I got home with him, he told me that his legs and arms were working again. So, he was able to walk himself inside.
Maisy had laid out a robe, jammies, cup of tea, and book for me....with a note that said, "Dear Mom, just sit down and relax."
I would have loved to have taken her sweet advice, but upon entering the house I discovered that while I was gone no one had let the dogs out....and they both had needed to go out = mess to clean up.
PLUS, I had to return to that basement and finish the laundry.
Thankfully that trip down there yielded no terrible surprises, everyone had worn themselves out for the night.
Could it be that Violet is just an artist? The hair cutting, the wall coloring, the permanent eye make up design?
Well, I don't know. I do know she's somethin'.....
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