What Made Me Smile Today: Princess Gets Married

My daughter, 3 years old, watched her favorite show Little Bear.  In the show, Little Bear and Emily get married.  It made an impression on her and last night her little brother helped her get decked out for her own wedding.  I'm only slightly concerned that my bull of a son Zilla has a penchant for dressing up his sister.

She announced that she was ready and we all had to watch her get married.  Zilla came running to me in my room excited about her entry.  I got out my camera and he yelled, "I'll sing!"

She said the wedding wasn't over and had to walk in again and this time Zilla promised to sing the song the right way.

Princess went to find Daddy because she needed him to say the weddin' words.  I am assuming that's the "do you take this man..." stuff.  Daddy was visibly uncomfortable at all of this and didn't actually say the weddin' words.

Princess chased after Daddy yelling, "You HAVE to say it!"  Zilla looked at me and giggled saying, "She's bossy."

I said, "Well, you may as well know now.  All brides are bossy sweetie."

Max asks, "Did you and Daddy have a wedding?"

I rolled my eyes.  "Yes, honey.  In fact, it was a billion years ago this April."

He smiles.  "Was the wedding in a church?"

I resist the urge to say, "No, back alley" and sweetly reminisced saying,  "Yes. It was very nice."

"Were you bossy to Daddy on your wedding day?"

"Of course.  And, in a couple weeks it will be our anniversary.  Which means I've been bossin' him around for about 17 years now."

Zilla laughed and ran out saying, "I'm tellin' Dad."

G'ahead and tell him.  Trust me, he already knows.

A Small Scrape, Part Deux

Ok, here's the update.  Yesterday I called the school and spoke to the nurse's assistant that had called our home about Zilla when it first happened.  She said she really thought that it wasn't anything major and said, "I mean, did it even scab over?"  And I scoffed and authoritatively said, "ummm... duh! You should see him." She said how sorry she was but that he was "still as handsome as ever..." and that she would make a note in my chart to let me know that I can come up there and inspect any future injuries.  Was I rolling my eyes?  Well, I gave myself a headache.

I hung up and I wasn't feeling "over it" yet.  I decided to call the school today and request a meeting with the principal.  My husband was home for a local appointment of his own so I wanted him to come along with me.  Let's face it; we all know that I'm the ass-kicker around here.  But, there is something about showing a united front (and having this really big tall guy with you helps too) to get people nervous.

Here's why I was upset.

1.  Have you SEEN his face?  I understand kids get hurt.. I do.  They've been hurt several times RIGHT IN FRONT of me.  I get it.  That's not what I'm upset about.  I'm upset because they said, "small scratch and a little red" when clearly, this was much more than that. When I picked him up they said that they could only wash it with water.  It was a carpet burn... do you know how filthy carpets are?  Carpets that 5 year olds play on? ugh.. don't get me started. 

2.  I didn't know that they can't put anything on it.. no Neosporin or Bacitracin. Had I known this right away, I would have gone immediately and administered the illegal drug myself.

So, we arrive at the school and the secretary calls us to the conference room.  When we start to walk in I hesitated because I saw a lot of people in the room and assumed we were interrupting another meeting.  Not so.. they were there for us.  In attendance was the nurse, nurse helper monkey (sorry.. had to do it), principal, and vice principal.  As it turns out, when the principal got my call this morning about requesting a meeting the first thing he did was go to my son's classroom.  He asked the teacher about it and then said, "where is he?"  He said, "When I saw him turn around and look at me I knew RIGHT away why you were calling.  That looked bad."

There were a lot of nervous people in that room (my husband and I were not one of them) and they did a LOT of apologizing and hesitating.  As it turns out (and this is the sad part) they frequently have to call parents about children being hurt or sick at school and they get a lot of resistance.  They said that parents get angry if they have to pick up a child that is hurt--but they need to be hurt so badly that they have to go the hospital.  They said they were happy that we were attentive and concerned because it's a rare occurrence. 

We all left on good terms and I have a feeling that little Zilla will be fitted for a plastic bubble at the school very soon.

A Small Scrape

I got a phone call today from Zilla's school saying he had a small scrape on his face.  They just wanted to prepare me for it when he got off the bus.  Ok, fine.

An hour later they called again saying he was back at the nurses office complaining it hurt.  I'll be right there.

I arrive at the school and stand outside the nurses office waiting for a little train of children to pass.  Zilla doesn't see me, but I see him.  His forehead and nose are bright red.  He's about 15 feet away from me when he notices me.  He smiles at first and then frowns.

I go in and he clings to my middle when I ask him, "What happened?"  Apparently it was an accident but I do take issue with what the school nurse considers a "small superficial scrape" and what I saw.  A scrape beginning from the top of his eyebrows to below his nose.  It was oozing when I arrived.

On top of that, they're not allowed to put anything on it.  So no wonder he said it was stinging!  And what about bacteria from the rug he did this on? Was he just supposed to let this ooze for the next few hours until he got home?  Shouldn't I have been given the option to come there and put bacitracin on it myself if they are not allowed to?

At first Zilla was very self-conscious about the scrape.  I texted my husband and said for him to act casual when he saw him.  Later Dave pulled me aside and said, "geeze, it looks like he was in a ski accident or something."  And it did.  Much of the redness has faded and Zilla is ok with us looking at him again AND he even let me take some photos tonight.  Here he is:

What he normally looks like:

Dr. Science

In case you didn't know, I've been home schooling Duke since January.  Why?  Long story but the short one is that it works for us.  Anyway, I'm trying to make learning activities interesting and hands-on.  When I called my husband asking where our compass was, he called me Dr. Science.

Duke loves maps.  He's loved them since he could point his chubby little toddler fingers at a globe when asked, "Where's Quebec?  Where's Estonia?"  So it made sense that he get a better idea of what a compass is, how it works, and how you can use it to find your way.  We did a little 'net research.

Here was my overall project.  I wanted to create stepping stones out of concrete (or is it cement? I always forget what is in what) and have each be labeled as North, South, East, West.  Once they were cured, we'd use a compass in the yard to place the stones where they should be, making a permanent compass.  In addition to the "art" portion, we did some reading on why the needle always points north. Then, I couldn't find the compass.  So we made a compass using a needle, magnet, water, pie plate, and small piece of cork.  (That's when my husband called me Dr. Science)

Mixing the cement.  Turns out he really likes this part.  I may have to send him north in the summers to work as a helper for his Mason Grandpa!

He asked me to do the decorating.  I could barely contain myself.   I worked in the shed since Mother Nature hasn't been cooperating with SPRING LIKE WEATHER.  Ugh.. Don't get me started.

Cured steps.

Assembling our homemade compass.  It totally worked.  I was shocked.  Click to see the video below.

It's Just a Splinter...

I was working in my garden the other day.  I'm desperate for Spring.  It was the first time of the year and didn't see my gloves in my bag.  I started digging around the yard without gloves and soon felt a sharp little twinge in my right hand.  It felt like a paper cut but I noticed the TINIEST piece of wood sticking out.  I pulled it and saw that some was still in my hand.  No matter, it will come out later I'm sure.

The next night it started to hurt.  I couldn't even see the splinter anymore.  I stuck a blob of bacitracin on it and a Band-Aid.  By morning it was looking pretty disgusting and nicely swollen.  My MIL (a nurse) and my friend (not a nurse--just bossy) told me that I needed to see the doctor.  Seriously?  Over a SPLINTER?

So.. I went to the doc today.  Apparently there was a "death in the office."  I don't know who it was but no one was there but him and his wife (at reception).  I waited well over an hour to get in but didn't really complain since the situation was what it was AND my husband was home and had the kids.  Sitting for an hour reading my beading magazines was not all that unpleasant.  ;)  

Anyway, I get in the office and tell him what happened and he asks, "Is it still in there?" and I said yeah and he said, "we need to go in the other room."  Now, the other room had a label on the door that said, "Trauma."  Seemed extraordinary considering it was a SPLINTER.

He looked at my hand and said, "I'll need my special forceps for this one..." and left the room.  When he came back he sat down and started to say that it was important to get splinters out, particularly since I was gardening, since I could get a nasty infection.  I said, "that's what my MIL and friend said..." 

He looked at my hand again and asked which direction the splinter went in.  Then said, "Ok, let me peel the skin back..."  Before I could say, "What the hell are you talking about?" He pulled a chunk of skin from my hand.  I tried to yank my hand away (instincts) but he had a pretty good grip.  Then he pulled some more and exclaimed, "there it is!"  It was like a small birth.  He was pleased with the splinter, I stared at my bleeding hand trying to pretend I was excited about the splinter.  So then he said, "let me make sure that was all of it" and dug around a bit more.  He got all of it.

For some reason he saved the splinter and taped it to my chart.  Not really sure why.  Memories?  Proof for the insurance company?  Are things getting that bad?  Then he said, "do you know when the last time you had a tetanus shot was?"  I could not recall and so now my left shoulder is sore. 

Now, when my kids get vaccines we go to the toy store.  So to ease my pain, I went to Michaels and treated myself to some lovely Swarovski crystals.  Seems fair. 

What Made Me Smile Today

I'm trying to get a newsletter done for a client.  I have 3 kids at home so I'm in the middle of the living room keeping an eye on things and listening for potential fights to break out.  Even though I'm listening, I'm very focused on my work. 

I hear the princessa say, "Can someone help me?  I'm stuck."  Out of the corner of my eye I know she's only 12 or so feet away from me and her brother is there next to her.  Kids like to do a lot of "sky is falling" type thing so I'm not that concerned and she doesn't sound worried--so I keep working.

Louder now, "Mommy, can you help me?  I'm stuck!" Annoyed at being interrupted AGAIN, I look up ready to say, "stop interrupting me!" when I see my daughter. 

Tell me.  How does this sort of thing happen anyway?  So, since she didn't seem hurt--I ran for my camera first before pulling her out.