Lucy, Please Stop Calling Me

Yesterday afternoon, Ali and I were shopping at Kohl's. We were there so Ali could pick out anything her little heart desired.

No, she's not spoiled. Yes, I know Christmas is coming up in just a few weeks.

However, she earned this little shopping adventure by wearing a patch on her left eye and filling up her patch chart with stickers (she has strabismus and has to patch her good eye in order to strengthen her weak eye, something she started doing right around the time of her 3rd birthday.)

Getting her to wear her patch daily has been a thorn in my side for the last 2 1/2 years. She is required to wear it for at least 6 hours every day, so I really don't blame her for putting up a fight. It sucks, I totally get that. However, the vision in her weak eye is at stake, so in order to get her to wear the patch (and keep it on) I need to bribe her.

There. I said it. I bribe my kids when need be.

Please don't judge my parental shortcomings because then I might cry......or maybe you've been known to bribe every now and then and can totally relate. Right?

Right?? OK. Maybe not. You just want to see me cry.

So back to the bribing that I do. I feel it's a trade off that's well worth it. Plus, if it were me and I had to wear a patch for 6 hours everyday, I would request a LOT more than a new Barbie. Like a vacation to Australia.

Anyway, our little shopping adventure was cut short when Ben's school called me on my cell phone, while I was in the middle of picking out a new pair of pants for Christmas because the pants in my current wardrobe may or may not fit at the present moment. I'll leave it at that.

Back to the call.

"Hello, this is Lucy from Zion school. I'm calling about Ben."

My heart stopped for a split second. I fear calls from Lucy because they usually involve informing me that Ben has been injured. Like last year in 1st grade, when she called to tell me that Ben and another student collided in gym class and Ben hit his head pretty hard and was acting not like himself and disoriented afterwards and to please come get him. Not the kind of call that tends to make my day (by the way, he was fine thanks to God.)

So, dear Lucy, you're a sweet woman. Really, you are. But please stop calling me. Hearing your voice scares me.

No such luck yesterday. And when I heard her voice, my mind shot straight back to last March.

This time, it seems my guy was playing a mean game of basketball during gym class with the likes of some pretty rough and tumble characters.

Seven year olds take their basketball very seriously.

From what I understand, one of Ben's friends accidentally hit Ben's hand, jamming his left pinky finger pretty hard. At first he seemed OK but shortly after the "jamming," his finger swelled up twice it's normal size and was sporting a large bump on the side and some colorful bruising.

There were no tears involved from what I've been told. However, the friend responsible for the "jamming" offered to let Ben borrow his Diary of A Wimpy Kid book to help him feel better. And everyone knows that the sacrifice of a Wimpy book to a friend in need is the most sincere form of apology.

At least to 7 year old boys.

So, I picked Ben up from school and headed to the doctor. He took one look at Ben's poor little puffed up pinky and sent us straight to the hospital for an x-ray.

Someone please tell me this stuff gets easier......

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2.

Well, probably tomorrow. But definitely, most likely sometime this week. I know for sure it will be in December.

I'm tired. Can you tell?