Seriously. I’m failing at this whole motherhood thing here, obviously. (Can you tell it’s been a long two days?) You all know that we’ve made three trips to the ER in the past three months — or you should if you read the blog anyway!
Yesterday morning, we went to get Mister Man evaluated by an orthopedist. The good news is that the growth plate is not displaced. Since it’s clear, it isn’t visible on the X-ray. However, you can see a ton of swelling and blood in the area which indicates a broken growth plate, so they treat it like a break.
In our case, that means that we return to the orthopedist in two weeks. I made the appointment for March 31 at 9:15 — Little Miss is on the bus and on her way to school and Mister Man doesn’t have to miss school. Perfect. Oh. Except that I forgot that I had agreed to watch a friend’s daughter from 9:10-10:40. Apparently I’ll be calling tomorrow morning to reschedule that.
Mister Man does have a full cast now. And since yesterday was St Patrick’s Day, he choose to get a green cast. I thought it was pretty cool. When we go back, they’ll take that cast off, do more X-rays, see how his pain level is, and evaluate from there.
After I looked at this picture, I realized that I had announced almost three weeks ago that Mister Man needed a haircut. Yep, it’s even worse now.
Instead of taking Mister Man to Costco to get the waffles and bread that we were out of that he so desperately wanted for breakfast today and then to his preschool to drop off the boxes of Scholastic Books I had in my car from my trek to the warehouse on Friday, we got his hair cut. I will admit that it looks much better now.
This meant that we didn’t have time to get to the preschool, so Little Miss rode the bus home, and then I drove Mister Man to school. With Little Miss. Who was in desperate need of a nap. We didn’t get home until after 2, although she went straight to sleep without a peep. I had to wake her up at 4 to go to the chiro after Mister Man got home, and she was still exhausted. I think the haircut could have waited until Friday, now that I think about it.
Today was Day 2 with the cast.
While I was putting Little Miss on the bus, Mister Man spilled his chocolate milk. Onto his cast. Into the hand part of his cast. And he sat there crying until I came in and heard him. Yep, just sitting in the milk pooled into chocolatey lake in his lap and cast. And yes, this is my intelligent child.
I then spent the next twenty-five minutes using my blow dryer for the first time in weeks. I used the cool setting in an effort to dry out the padding in his cast. The triage nurse at the ortho (who I’m sure will know me by name soon at this rate) said that they didn’t need to see him to check the cast unless he had done something like dunked his cast in the bathtub or something where water got down into it. I’m dubious, but I tried to get it dry. Here’s hoping he still has all the skin on his arm when they take it off in T-13 days.
He did have a good day, though. He’s really into having everyone sign his cast — including total strangers who have been indulging the little imp. We’re using a green marker on the green cast. The majority of his daycare class signed, and apparently everyone in his preschool class signed. There isn’t much room left!
When he got home today, the broken record went back on.
Don’t lift that with your right hand.
Do not pick up that greasy food with your right hand.
Don’t touch that dirt with your right hand.
Please use your fork to eat your dinner and not your fingers.
Don’t keep banging your cast on the wall.
You can’t run with your cast. Walking only!
You can’t jump on your bed with a broken arm.
You can’t push yourself up with your arm. You can’t bear weight on it while it’s broken, Sweetie. Please try to be careful with your broken arm so it doesn’t get worse!
At least I didn’t have to tell him to stop hitting his sister with his cast, right?
Then there’s Little Miss who was completely overstimulated by my parents and is still overtired from the weekend spent with my parents with no naps and late bedtimes, screeching in her room that she wants to get up and that she wants Mommy to sleep with her (which I never have so I’m not sure where she got that idea). Fifty minutes.
Anyone have a bottle of wine they can share with me?