Sunday my youngest tripped and fell at the playground. I didn't see it because I was sitting in my truck playing Brickbreaker on my phone. Her sister was right there to help her up, about 20 feet from the truck so I didn't move. I saw tears, but tears happen pretty easily with this kid. I announced it was time to leave, but she said it hurt to walk. I rolled my eyes, got out, and told her to walk. She limped over and showed me a shallow inch long scrap on her ankle. I wasn't impressed. This is the same kid who has to show me every owie the size of a pinprick and demand a bandaid.
Later, in front of our house, she convinced the neighbor girl to push her around in a stroller while they played. As the youngest, she's always liked to be babied so I didn't think much of it. Several hours later I made her get out of the stroller. She sat in a chair and didn't move for an hour. Okay. Now I'm thinking something might be wrong.
"How bad does it hurt?"
"Pretty bad."
"A lot or a little?"
"Medium."
"Can you walk on it?"
"No. Unless I have to."
This is getting nowhere. Her ankle looks a little swollen if I stare hard enough at it. I finally brush it off. She's not crying. I've seen her walk. I don't think she'd be walking if something was broken. And she's obviously enjoying all the attention from the other kids.
Later we're watching TV after dinner while she sits by me on the couch. I glance at her ankle and it looks like she's got a walnut under her skin. Acck!
The guilt starts. She was really hurt! I didn't take her seriously! Had I been making her walk on a broken ankle all day? I call the doctor but since it is after eight, they're closed. Do I want to spend the evening in the emergency room? Heck, no. My last three visits to the emergency room averaged three hours each. I iced her ankle, elevated it, and decided to check it in the morning.
Monday morning the swelling is down, and she's moving pretty good, much better than I'd expected, but I decide to keep her home from school. My writing day. As I write this Monday AM, she's sitting beside me talking nonstop. Questions about everything. (Do you die with your eyes open?) Continuous commentary on everything she sees. I let her talk.
I'll take her to Starbucks later and try to redeem myself with a strawberry frappachino.
11 comments:
Oh, Kendra! Doesn't it seem like mothers got an extra helping of guilt?
First of all, kudos for taking your daughters to the playground. You've already beaten yourself up for playing Brickbreaker instead of watching your girls every second, so enough guilt on that score.
You obviously were watching your daughter the rest of the day or you wouldn't have noticed what she was doing and that something was out of the ordinary. When you did notice something unusual, your paid closer attention. More kudos to you. When you noticed the lump, you took action. More kudos. You kept her home to be sure she was OK. Even more kudos.
I'm seeing a pattern of a caring, attentive mother who considers what's happened with this little girl in the past, pays attention to what's going on with her right now, and takes action based on your best judgment.
And your daughter is learning to tell you how much she hurts. If a kiss and a bandaid take away the pain, that's a "little bit" of hurt. If a kiss and a bandaid don't take away the pain, she can let you know that also. Her time staying off the ankle and hanging out with people (big and small) who care about her gave her ankle time to rest and mend.
Cyber-hugs to both of you!
Okay, for the record...you are NOT a bad mother. This is a bad mother...
The (then) 7 yr old is upstairs with the neighbor girl. They're in the bathroom doing makeup. I see her on the counter as I walk by the bottom of the stairs. I say, "Alia. Get off the counter before you fall and get hurt." Her reply, "Okay, mom." I walk away. Not more than 30 seconds later I hear a THUNK followed by a scream. I'm downstairs, roll my eyes and think, "I'm so glad everyone listens to me." Now, just so you know, this child is a screamer. Smallest little scratch and you'd think her arm was falling off. I do not handle hysterics well. So I take my time going upstairs. She's on the floor of the bathroom - drama queen that she is - writhing around. Neighbor girl sees me and says, "I gotta go home." Zip, she's gone. I look at Alia on the bathroom floor and think, "This is all I need."
I pick her up, take her into my room, lay her on the bed where she proceeds to scream hysterically. Worse than before. I'm thinking something's seriously wrong, only she won't stop screeching long enough to tell me where it hurts. Finally, I get her to sit up, and magically, she stops screaming. She gets this weird look on her face and says, "Oh. It doesn't hurt anymore." Clear as day.
Now at this point I'm looking at her like, "what the hell???" Then two seconds later, she screeches again at the top of her lungs and flings herself back on my bed, wailing as loud as she can. This happens THREE TIMES. Sits up, fine. Stops screaming. Then throws herself backwards in a screeching fit. If she's really hurt, would she throw herself backwards like that????
At that point I have to step away because I am SURE she's faking it for attention. And because I'm ready to start screaming myself.
The DH comes home thirty minutes later. I'm at the end of my rope. He takes one look at her and says, "I'm taking her to the ER." I'm standing on the side rolling my eyes. I think my exact words were, "She's just trying to get attention. She does not need to go to the ER."
Three hours later (yes three, that seems to be average for ERs), they come back. Her arm's in a sling. DH has x-rays. He collar bone is snapped in two. Clean break. She fell off the bathroom counter, landed on her shoulder and snapped it. And the whole time I thought she wasn't really hurt.
So no, Kendra. You are not a horrible mother. I'm pretty sure I get that award. The good news? My daughter survived, even with my terrible mothering skills. The bad news? She's still a total drama queen.
Oh, and I should add...they don't do anything for broken collar bones in kids. The bones knit back together on their own. Technically, she didn't need to go to the ER, other than to point out what a horrible parent I am.
Oooooooooooooooooooooooh. What I have to look forward to. I'm going to need to purchase stock in Dove.
Kendra and Eli, I'm going to whang you both with my magic wand to take away your guilt! If you were indeed "horrible" mothers, you wouldn't bother to feel guilty.
Had to smile at your broken collar bone story though, Eli. One of my nephews got a broken collar bone when he was born. It was obviously a rough birth! Then he rolled off a low couch when he was 2 or 3 and re-broke his collar bone. Rolled, mind you--not fell--about 10 inches onto a carpeted floor. Still, there was guilt...
Should I mention that if you feel guilty now, wait until your kids are teenagers? Naw, that would be cruel if I mentioned that! LOL!
Oh, the teen years, Genene. I'm dreading them!
My middle boy broke his collar bone during birth as well (almost died actually. The fact his collar bone broke is the only thing that saved him). So we have one child (the youngest) who hasn't broken a collar bone. Yet.
I think even a slight fall can break one, depending on if you hit it just right Sounds like that's what happened to your nephew. I know my daughter didn't fall far at all, either, when she fell off the bathroom counter. Heck, she's fallen farther than that with absolutely no problems! In both cases they don't do anything to set them. Baby bones are like rubber and fuse right back together. For my daughter it took a few weeks, but she wore a sling and that was it.
Wavy, if I were you I'd look for stock in Xanax.
Well, you're just all horrible mothers, that's all I can say.
My kids never fell and if they "slipped" once and awhile, I immediately took them to the ER and put in my three hour stint while knitting scarves to keep their wee necks warm in winter. Then I took them home and we baked cookies.
They never screamed, they never bit each other, they never fought, they never put grease paint on their faces to stalk the neighborhood while playing a rousing game of "Terrorist". They never threw tantrums or kicked a smaller child or called me names.
So there.
LOL, Kendra, I agree with everyone else. Everyone goes through these times with their kids -- why else would anyone take the time to come up with the "Never Cry Wolf" fable? How can you tell between major ouchie and no big deal ouchie when every ouchie comes with a melt down?
Hope you had a good day.
Thanks for waving the laughter wand that relieves guilt, guys.
Alice, I tried to explain the wolf story to Amelia, hoping she'd see that her previous moans over nonpainful things influenced what I was thinking on Sunday. She didn't get it.
My middle daughter was two days away from turning two when she fell off the hearth and broke her arm. I waited an hour before I took her to the emergency room. I didn't feel too guilty about that one because she couldn't tell me how she was feeling.
Yep. Xanax. Good call.
Five kids, four of them boys. Need I say more?
Kendra and Eli, ain't motherhood grand?!! I think it goes well mixed with a tall drink of something I like to call... Jack Daniel's. But better not mix it with the Xanax. rofl...
Kendra, My mom was a registered nurse. She hated people who came to the doctor's office with things that didn't need a doctor's care when there wee people out there who did need his care and the hypochondriac's took up twice as much of the doctor's time.
So, when I was thirteen and fell off my horse, I told my mom my shoulder hurt. She looked at it said it looked fine and I walked around cradling the arm from my hurt shoulder in the other arm about three weeks. When I went in for my college physical the doctor (the same one my mom worked for) asked when I broke my collar bone. My mom turned beet red.
And needless to say- When my lef swelled up like a balloon as an adult, I just limped around and didn't go to the doctor. Determining it was an allergic reaction to a bug bite. And when I once again fell/was thrown from a horse and my leg was swollen and purple I didn't go to the doctor. And I'm just as bad with my kids.
Still in Baker City. Hope to be home on Friday.
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