The best-laid plans

Well, the plan was that I was going to make a point of updating this old thing at least every Saturday.  I was in the midst of doing just that two weeks ago when my precious children got into an argument.  By “argument,” I mean Oscar yelling at Etta while on the bed.  She started it, I’m sure, by doing something as annoying as smiling at her brother all gummily.  I separated them, knowing that it would be only moments before she nastily provoked another attack, perhaps by cooing at him adoringly.  I turned to grab bottles and nighttime diapers on the bedside table, thinking I’d see this as an opportunity to get them both into bed.  When I turned my head back to the foot of the bed, I saw Oscar running across the bed, away from his sister, straight for the laptop at the edge of the bed.  He went to swerve to avoid it, and managed to twist and fall, seemingly in slow motion, right off the bed. 

I got to him a second after he hit, but obviously that was too late.  He screamed like I’d never heard before.  I was thinking maybe he’d dislocated his elbow, since that happens all the time with him, but when I went to feel it, I knew we had a much bigger problem.  His elbow was not where it was supposed to be.  Not even close.  It felt like it was about two inches to the right of center on his arm.  Not good.

So, this is where the fun started.  I got both of the kids dressed (sort of), bottles made (knowing we were not going to get back home soon), mapped directions to the good E.R. and piled us all into the car, which seemed a lot smaller than usual.  I think it took 20 minutes to get to the hospital, but it seemed like an eternity, probably because Oscar took this opportunity to start stringing three words together (for the first time ever, BTW) “Mom elbow hurt” and “elbow ow Mom” over and over again.

We arrived at the hospital, Oscar screaming, and were seen immediately (screamers get this treatment, BTW).  This is where it all began to resemble a farce.  I had Etta in one arm and Oscar in another.   We saw a doctor, then were pulled into a room where I was told to get Oscar on the bed.  We all know the only way that was going to happen, so I got onto the bed with Oscar, Etta sitting on top of me.  This was about 9:00 pm.  The three of us did not leave this bed until a little before 3:00 am the next morning.  I even got to the point where I was able to ignore the stares while we were wheeled from room to room, Oscar and me lying down with Etta sitting on top of my stomach watching everything.  The only time we were separated was the first time Oscar needed x-rays, when the technician took Etta into the other room to spare her from being irradiated.  Let’s just say that we then found out that Etta really is bonding to me, as she yelled a bit like her brother.

Very long story short(ish), Oscar’s elbow was not dislocated.  A pediatrician with a crazy (seriously, CRAZY) handlebar mustache with curlicues all over the place (like this, but even more bizarre, if possible . . . )

said he thought it was broken, but that the x-ray was not conclusive.  Then we had more x-rays, then more indecision.  Finally, at 3:00 am they put a splint on Oscar’s arm, discharged him and we went to the car, where my little guy said one word.  Cookie.  Oy.  So, we got in the car and started driving until I found a McDonald’s where I promptly purchased a cookie, which he bit into, dropped and ignored. 

We went to the orthopedic surgeon two days later, and I was certain she was going to tell me that his arm was fine.  He was, by then, running like a maniac around the house.  Instead, we sat down and she showed me his x-rays and said that his arm was clearly broken in two spots.  They slapped a cast on him from the tips of his fingers to right up to his armpit and that was that.  We return tomorrow to get the first cast off and to talk to someone about whether he’ll need surgery.  Then they’re going to put him in another cast thingy and a special sling for another month or longer.  It’s all a lot of fun.

Aside from that, we’ve been busy boxing up our lives for our upcoming move.  I have the keys to the new house, which I explored yesterday afternoon with the kids.  Etta was very excited by her introduction to carpeting, and Oscar was just happy to have something new to run around in.  He seemed particularly excited about his new playroom, A/K/A the garage.

The house really is quite cute, but each time I go there, I come home to our current house with a renewed desire / appreciation of the need to jettison our belongings.  It’s a very small house.  So far, I’ve done pretty well.  I have half of the garage filled with stuff for the G00dwill truck that is coming next week.  I’m basically getting rid of a fully equipped one-bedroom apartment and entire wardrobes for a fatty and an infant boy.  Someone is going to be very lucky.

I have a bit of a dilemma.  The new house has three bedrooms.  Two are decent sized and the other is 11.5′ x 11.5′, which I guess is sort of small.  It would be totally mean of me to put Nanny Norma in the smaller bedroom, right?  All three have marble bathrooms, with jetted tubs, but it is a small room.  Oscar will sleep in my room, so the other bedroom is really for Etta’s crib, the kids’ dresser, changing table and rocking chair.  There really wouldn’t be much room to play.  The other bedroom would provide room for the kids to play inside, but that would relegate Norma to the little room. 

Aside from having a bit of play room for the kids upstairs, there is one other reason I’ve been considering putting Norma into the smaller room.  Norma always closes her bedroom door.  I don’t blame her.  If I were living with freaks like us, I would, too.  But, the other bedroom is at the top of the stairs, and the staircase is open to the landing.  I *hate* closed doors in a house.  I don’t know why, but I just do.  It wouldn’t bother me as much if it were a room in a corner somewhere I wouldn’t have to see, but walking into a house and seeing a closed door would make me crazy.  See, I said we were freaks.  I’ll have to think about this some more.

In the meantime, here are pics from our outing yesterday.  Oscar is sporting a camo cast cover (all the rage with the cool kids these days) and Etta is modeling a crocheted headband by the Rosey Posey.  Sorry for the lousy pics of the big guy, but he doesn’t really slow down enough these days for the paparazzi.

June 7, 2010 Posted by Oscar and Etta's mom | Doctor, Etta, Oscar | 9 Comments