Wednesday, May 1st 2013
Still here

I should probably be embarrassed at the state of this house. But I’m not. Sure, it looks HORRIBLE. But it’s a huge improvement.

Just this morning it was covered in blood. Bright red blood drips on all the floors, the door frames, and the carpets. Also, there was a lake of kelly green paint in the living room and all over my bright white favorite sheets, and me.

What’s even stranger is that last night there was blood everywhere too. From a different source. All over the house. And it had been cleaned up. (Thanks, Mom.)



I think that’s my point. And also, I don’t care that the house is a wreck. At least it’s no longer dripping in blood.

I’ll back up.

To yesterday.

I grocery shopped in the morning and came home and made the beginnings of three different dinners for later in the week and  then I fell asleep. I’d been up all night with nightmares. My own.

After baseball yesterday evening, the kids and I ate dinner and were in the living room eating m&ms. I was telling them about my ability to distinguish yellow from non-yellow m&ms by taste alone in any given blind taste test they wanted to set up. (i wanted them to share with me.) Then Caden-9yr demonstrated he has inherited this gift. He can also tell a yellow from a non-yellow. Makes me so proud.

Somewhere in there kids were sent off to get ready for bed and then Seth-7yr runs at me from the kitchen saying, “I am bleeding. Very bad.”

He had been trying to open a new toothpaste. With a paring knife. For who knows WHAT reason, he never does stuff like that. I wrapped his bloody hand in a hot pink hand towel – so the blood would show less and freak him out less – secured it with a hair elastic, told him to hold it over his chest and put him in the car. There were a few stumbling phone conversations with various people. A friend came to get the other two boys. My mother planned to meet me at the emergency room. We went to the car.


At this point I found my voice again and started YELLING the words SHUT and UP over and over and over and over even though I NEVER say that to children in any tone of voice, ever. Last night was a monumental exception. A friend came and got the boys and at that moment i was PARTICULARLY glad to be free of any more of Ethan-13yr’s help.

At the emergency room Seth-7yr and my mom and I sat in a room and discussed Willie Nelson while we waited. Seth-7yr was in shock. He was clingy. We went to the ER down the street from me that employs the doctors and nurses who have failed their Bedside Manner courses and the big hospitals don’t want them. (too many examples proved this. WOW. But they fixed my kid, so there’s that.)

I laid across Seth-7yr and forcibly held him down and kissed him and whispered to him while he fought like hell against receiving 4 stitches. It was AWFUL.

I didn’t have insurance information and couldn’t reach Mike. (and then he wouldn’t give it to me. So that’s fun. I was in the middle of Bloodbath Number 2 this morning and texting about how and why I was legally entitled to their insurance cards and this was NOT okay, all the while mopping up more blood.) Last night I couldn’t answer ANY of the nurse’s questions, including, “do you work?” and I said “no” and my mother was all, “UH?” And that prompted an “oh yeah. I do.” I was tripping over last names and relationships and it was so hard to answer any of it when all that mattered was my baby was not okay.

And then he was sewed up. And we left. My friend brought my kids home and put them to bed and made me some large pink-ish red drink and I don’t know what it was but I said thank you and drank it and did not complain. My mom mopped up blood.

This morning I sat up and looked around me. I had put my favorite pretty embroidered white sheets on the bed last night. They were spotted green. So was I. And my pillow. I looked everywhere and couldn’t figure out how Seth-7yr’s injury had anything to do with this new mystery… but surely they were related.

They were.

As in, the chaos that ensues when people are running around in an emergency means a paint can might get kicked over in the living room and go unnoticed. And then the cat might walk through it and then sleep on my pillow and walk all over me at night, as he usually does, front and back, and leave little green pawprinty marks all over the house.

A quart of kelly green paint sat congealing in a puddle in the middle of the living room. The RENTAL HOUSE living room. I felt sick. But there was no time to clean it  up. I took the kids to school. Noticed the dogs were barking happily to a dog in the alley. I’d rush home and clean up the paint. But I needed to go check in with the school nurse about Seth-7yr. Off we went.

It took me 45 minutes to get back, thanks to the detour to the nurse’s office. The dogs were still barking.

I let them in. Blood. Everywhere. They were shaking. Bleeding. Panting. Generally just freaking out. They had sustained many fence injuries from trying to get through it to the other dog. When i went to look at the fence, they whined. They wouldn’t go out there again and they didn’t want me out there either.

Callie lost an entire nail. Then one of them ate it. Which means someone will poop it, I guess. There were gashes. And less obvious wounds. And I forgot all about the paint mess and just tried to calm down dogs. (You know, so that their little pulses wouldn’t race and cause blood to spurt everywhere at a faster rate. Apparently I failed, because WOW, the blood.)

They finally relaxed. I cleaned up paint. It took forever. Longer when I’m trying to inspire Mike to pay what is owed and cough up the damn insurance information. (He did. Finally. Sorta. Both. But not before I was all “THANK GOD WE ARE DIVORCED” and I meant it in all sincerity. Good GRIEF but I didn’t need that this morning and if he thought I somehow had the patience for it, well, that was quickly found to be incorrect. I was NOT kind. I was NOT patient.)

After the paint, i cleaned the blood. And then took the dogs to the vet and felt like WORST MOTHER EVER when she said that they both needed stitches. Duke had a deep gash between two toes that went through a tendon and into a joint capsule. Whatever that is.  He is stitched up and wearing a Cone of Shame on his head. Callie had smaller, more numerous injuries and was stitched up in at least three places. Because it’s the first of the month and I was trying to figure out rent when all other money is so far behind and a huge vet bill is EXACTLY what I needed, and I still don’t know about the ER costs since I couldn’t discuss insurance with them and WOW. There was this moment today where breathing was just really difficult. All panic-y, anxiety-ish, you know?

The boys helped me repair the fences.  Not that the dogs will go out there. Today they have only twinkled all over the vet’s office. The backyard is a Place of Trauma still. Not yet deemed safe for twinkling. No go zone.

The cat? AH. The cat is bright white, like my sheets were. Except now he’s green. Like my sheets ARE. 

Ethan-13yr is fine.

Caden-9yr is afraid he’s next. He’s sure he’s up next in this pattern of bloodshed and he’s worried and trying to use that to get him out of bedtime. I didn’t tell him that I am as surprised as he is that out of the 7 of us in this house, 3 needed stitches and somehow HE wasn’t one of them? yeah, that blew my mind too. Stay safe, babe.  Be watchin out.  night night.

At some point today I found a dried out green stringy thing in my hair. It was a celery string. From when i prepped all those dinners yesterday morning and de-stringed celery and it went flying and I forgot about it. A dehydrated celery string fragment was in my kelly green pawprinty hair, where it had been for an eventful 24 hours. How weird.

All of it.

We are a raggedy little bunch of bloodstained, paint spattered, vegetably accessorized creatures. Survivors, though. Definitely we are that.



7 Comments on “Still here”

May 1st, 2013
10:15 pm

Well, I would SAY I am speechless, but we both know that would be a lie. I don’t think I am ever speechless. But I have had so many “ex” encounter stories from different ladies lately, that I don’t have clean, nice words to say. What I really want to say is that it’s all “bolshevik” – my new way of cussing since watching Madagascar 3 or 4 or whatever number that is.

Afro, Afro circus. Right? I know, I’m crazy.

What I really want to say is “good friggin lord you’ve got to be kidding me”. But I know you’re not and then I have more words I can’t say.

Got your message. Usually we fly through. I am beyond tired these days with the whole thyroid\medication issue. Yes, still. I have not been well. So even when we briefly stop, I am just not up for human interaction. At all. I would like to go just to have lunch. Soon hopefully.

Love you girl.

May 2nd, 2013
1:52 am

Thinking of you! Scared to say things can only get better… But certainly praying they will!

May 3rd, 2013
10:42 am

So glad you are survivors! Just stay safe, please! All seven of you.

May 3rd, 2013
2:58 pm

I thought if I gave it time I could come up with a less lame comment, but I can’t. I’m so sorry you had to go through that! I can. Not. Imagine. I’m cussing in my head on your behalf, and so glad you are keeping your sense of humor because I think it’s incredibly helpful when you are just trying to cope.

May 4th, 2013
11:36 am

No insurance information??? What a BUTT-OX. I’m so glad I have that word, instead of the dozen others swirling around in my outraged-on-your-behalf brain. Sorry about all the mess, paint and blood. So thankful everyone is now in recovery mode. Except for the sheets, I guess. And the living room floor. Wish I could give you a big hug.
Jan recently posted..Trim Healthy Mama: a book review

May 7th, 2013
11:05 pm

i love you all. : )

the living room floor? SURVIVED. Thank you God for water based paint and faux wood floors. WOW.

May 7th, 2013
11:05 pm

There was more.
but i’m tired.

butt-ox IS fantastic, jan.

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