Lucy, Please Stop Calling Me - Part 2

Back to our regularly scheduled program......click here for Part 1 of my "Lucy" story.

Part 2

So, after Ben jammed his finger at school last Monday, we headed to the hospital for x-rays that same evening. We were told that we wouldn't have the results for about 24 hours. I allowed Ben to stay home from school on Tuesday until we got the x-ray results back. He probably could have went to school but his finger was still very swollen and he couldn't bend it.

Big mistake.

As many of you probably know, when your child stays home from school either sick or injured, the sickness or injury usually does not stop that child from doing what they normally do - play. And if your child is anything like mine, they play HARD. Especially my son. I think it's a boy thing.

Anyway, I tried my best to help Ben understand that his finger may very well be broke and that it would be best if he did something that didn't require: a) him jumping on furniture; b) him chasing his sister through the house; and/or c) him being NOT quiet.

So, I strongly suggested that Ben do something a little less rambunctious, like taking a nap. When I realized that wasn't going to happen, I suggested that he sit down and QUIETLY read a book. I mean really, how am I supposed to waste my day away visiting my blog friends with all of this chaos swirling around me?

I don't do chaos.

So what did Ben do? I can tell you he didn't sit down and quietly read a book, that much I know.

Remember the chaos that I am not a fan of? Yeah, read on.

Ben decides that, with a potentially broken finger and all, it would be a splendid idea to stack up the couch cushions in the basement and then proceed to climb up the cushions like a rock climbing wall.

Huh? That is so not sitting quietly and reading a book.

Next thing I know, Ali is running upstairs saying that Ben "scratched" himself. My first reaction was "That's what happens when you don't listen to me, the Mom, who knows everything - including that (when in doubt) sitting and quietly reading a book is always the best choice."

So, Ben comes upstairs crying, holding his arm. At first, I didn't have much sympathy. After all, I told him to settle down, what with the whole broken finger thing.

After close inspection of his "scratch," I realized at that moment that I should have sent him to school. His "scratch" was actually three deep cuts on the inside of his left arm. His "broken" finger was also on his left hand. Apparently, when climbing his "rock wall," he fell off and then landed on his hand/arm on the edge of a furnace vent.

This child is going to give me gray hair. OK, more gray hair.

So, Ben's arm is now bleeding and he is crying and saying "I'm sorry Mommy, I'm sorry!" Two of the three cuts were pretty deep and because of the location, I started to freak out for a moment. I tried calling Ray at work but he didn't answer. Then I thought about calling 911. All the time, Ben is still crying, still apologizing and holding Ali's hand while I am trying to stop the bleeding.

And as quickly as it all began, the bleeding suddenly stopped. Thank you, God, for miracles.

Remember the chaos thing? I'm not sure but I think calling 911 and having an ambulance come to my house qualifies as chaos. I'm just guessing.

So, I made an executive decision and decided to take Ben right back to the same doctor from the day before, the one who handled Ben's finger situation. For those of you keeping track, this was our second visit to the same doctor, for the same child in less than 24 hours.

De ja vu, anyone?

Good thing I took him in because he did end up needing stitches. He was really scared but he handled it like a trooper, with only a few tears shed. I was so proud of him.

However, if the past two days weren't bad enough, the doctor started giving me attitude. He told me that even if Ben's finger was broke, he could have went to school. Well, excuuuuuse me! Who asked you anyway, doc? Seriously, my son has been injured twice within a 24 hour period, I have taken him to the doctor's office twice and the hospital once and now you are questioning my parenting decisions. Back off! I told him it was my decision whether to send Ben to school or not. The nerve of some people. He may be the doctor but I'm the Mom.

Can I get a woo hoo?

The good news, Ben's finger is not broke. He went back to school on Wednesday, sporting a nifty banged up pinky finger and 3 stitches in his left arm, which he was very excited to show his friends.

The bad news, all of the adrenaline induced chaos wiped me out and I spent the remainder of last week recovery from Ben's injuries by visiting my blog friends and napping.

I know. But at least this time I had an excuse.

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?

Bring It, Mr. Owl

Remember the Tootsie Roll Pop commercial from the 70's and 80's that is now making a comeback? You know, the one with the wise old owl......

Boy: "Mr. Owl, how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?"

Mr. Owl: "Let's find out." (Mr. Owl proceeds to lick boy's Tootsie Roll Pop)

Mr. Owl: "A one, a two, a three....." (Mr. Owl bites into boy's Tootsie Roll Pop)

Announcer: "The world may never know."

I LOVE THAT COMMERCIAL.

Mainly because it takes me back to my childhood.

But also because Mr. Owl rocks.

But I digress.

Over the weekend, we took on the mission of discovering just how many licks it does take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop. And with Halloween candy still miraculously laying around, we we're ready to get this show on the road.

Because we are all kinds of wild and crazy.

Ben was the official licker. I was the official counter and picture taker. Ray and Ali we're the cheerleaders. And by cheerleaders, I mean Ray watched tv and Ali played with her Barbies pretty much oblivious to what we were doing.

Here is the play by play:

This is towards the beginning of the challenge, at approximately 200 licks. I think Ben is feeling pretty confident.

Pacing himself.

The pressure seems to be setting in at this point......come on, Ben, you can do this!

The finish line is within sight......

1,517 licks later, Ben finally got to the center of his Tootsie Roll Pop.

Challenged completed but looped up on sugar......sweet victory!