I used to do a regular Friday segment where folks could ask me questions and I did various combinations of truth and fiction in the answers. Then everyone and their cousin started doing it and I had been asked what my favorite book was four or five times and so I stopped doing it.
But I kinda dug having a Friday “thing.” So here’s my stab at a new one. This will be the first in a series, unless, of course, I get bored or die or have something else really important happen next Friday that pre-empts the second installment.
Anyway. Friday Flashbacks! See how there’s alliteration? Two Fs in a row just can’t be wrong, people.
Today’s theme is inspired by yesterday’s post. All that reflecting upon the miracle and wonderfulness of my children brought to mind many, many things. And I suppose it was only natural that I would find myself pondering various fond memories of medical emergencies I’ve endured with the kids.
* When Chickadee was a toddler, I was playing with her on the bed one day, and her father came into the room. She sat up on her knees and lunged for him… and missed, falling head-first onto the floor. She was fine but my ex did eventually have to shoot me with a tranquilizer dart to get me to stop screaming. (Shut up. I was a new mother and I thought her neck must’ve snapped.)
* Not too long after that, I opened up Chickadee’s diaper one day and it was full of pee (not unusual) and also copious amounts of blood (!!!!) so I called the pediatrician and they sent us to the ER. Several hours and failed attempts to collect her urine in a little tape-on baggie later, we concluded that she’d eaten some red paint earlier in the day.
* With kids only 20 months apart, I used to put Chickadee in her room to rest/nap and put Monkey in a playpen downstairs for his nap so that they wouldn’t disturb each other. It was common for Monkey to fuss a bit before settling down to sleep. One day he really carried on for quite a while and so finally I went downstairs to check on him. The playpen, the blankets, and the baby himself were all SOAKED in blood. I couldn’t find a scratch on him, and became convinced he’d vomited it up. After a hysterical phone call to the pediatrician, the nice nurse managed to 1) explain to me that he did not have cystic fibrosis, tuberculosis, or stomach cancer, and 2) direct me to check his mouth VERY carefully. While “cruising” his way around the perimeter of the playpen, Monkey had hit his face and severed the frenulum attaching his upper lip to the gums. (It never mended; he has a little flap of skin hanging off his lip attached to nothing.)
* As a toddler Monkey looooooved to pull the pots out of the low cupboards and play with them. I thought it was the greatest thing in the world until the day he managed to wrestle out my stockpot and drop it on his foot. He crumpled to the ground and did the silent scream bit, followed by a shriek that shattered every window within a 5-mile radius. His big toenail was turning black and he fell over every time he tried to walk. We of course rushed him to the Urgent Care center where he passed the time by… running around in circles in the waiting room. (The nail fell off about a month later, but the foot is still attached.)
* This didn’t merit a trip to the doc or the ER, but I’m sure it will be a treasured memory in our family for generations. And I blogged it when it happened, but I’ll mention it again: The day Chickadee mastered riding her bike without training wheels, she ran over Monkey. Ran. OVER. Monkey. BOTH WHEELS. She hit him with the bike, he fell down, ba-bump ba-bump, he had tire tracks. Then everyone cried. We know how to make memories, my family.
Hey! Fridays are fun again! And who KNOWS what I’ll feature next week. Perhaps Squalor I Have Known, or maybe Foods I Have Ruined. The possibilities are endless.
Wanna share the fun? Post your own Friday Flashbacks on the theme of medical emergencies and leave a trackback.