Broken Arm

I got a call from day care around 3:30 on Thursday afternoon that Sara had "hurt her arm on the playground." (Deja vu, right?) Assuming the Head/Manly drama genes were in full effect, I was not all that concerned and said I'd be there to get her. Hallie and I drove over to the day care a few minutes ahead of our planned time to rescue the wounded.

A tear-streaked little face was sitting on her teacher's lap. She had moments of calm between lots of tears. I thought we would try to go home and take some Tylenol to see if that would help. So we headed for the car.

On the way to the car, though, she started howling and didn't let up as we crossed the bridge to go home. So I careened into the emergency room parking lot instead of continuing the drive home. Jason came and got Hallie and Brooks so that I didn't have to haul all three children into the ER waiting room, thank goodness.

The first set of (very painful) X-rays showed a little buckle fracture in her forearm. But a nurse who helped me move her was not satisfied and requested an X-ray of the top half of her arm as well. And thank goodness she did, because that revealed a really nasty break of her humerus.

We waited and dozed while they decided what to do.

The doctors thought the break would need surgery and didn't want to put such a little one under. So they shipped us up to Children's in an ambulance. They gave S some morphine through an IV (I'm pretty sure all the color drained from my face when they said they were going to do this).  I assumed this would help her rest on the drive to Birmingham.  Except it didn't.  At all.  Instead, she became downright bubbly. One of the EMTs on the ambulance asked me if she normally talked so much. She had him in stitches. Note to self: morphine does NOT make Sara sleepy.

 

About the time we got close to Birmingham, though, the novelty had worn off and she was very hungry. She complained that her tummy hurt, and this made sense because it was approaching 7:30 and neither of us had eaten in several hours (and wouldn't, as it turns out, until about 1 am).

 

When we arrived at Children's, reinformcements joined us!  Gigi and Grumpy came to visit and check on the patient.

The doctors at Children's had to re-X-ray my girl because the hospital here forgot to send their films. So that was another adventure in agony. It's really un-fun to have someone turning your arm in various directions to take pictures when it's broken.

Ultimately they decided to put her to sleep to cast it. Before doing so they said that the drug they were using causes vivid dreams and we should talk up something good for her to dream about. We went the birthday party route. Evidently I have now promised Sara an Ariel party with strawberry cake. I'm just glad I didn't promise anything crazy--I probably would have said anything to help her dream good things after the crappy day she'd had.

They put her under, cast the arm, and eventually sent us on our way with a loritab prescription and a requirement that we follow up with them in a week.

 

My girl hurt pretty badly during the night and the next day, but each day is easier. I think by tomorrow we will have moved from pain to full-blown annoyance (she realized this morning that her cast means she can't do cartwheels or color), where we will stay until the cast is removed in 4 to 6 weeks. My main goal is to have her in a waterproof cast before our beach trip in May. Prayers appreciated...

Summer Snow!

My friend Teresa told me that, as Tuscaloosa natives, we had to check out Summer Snow--as she said, "the best shaved ice in the world." Loving all things sugary, I complied without too much arm-twisting. When Julie, Jon, Charlie, Avery, and Nana visited last weekend we made our first trip to the little shaved ice stand on the other side of town. It was as good as advertised, and I predict we will be back.

Jake

This is my Friday date these days. Handsome, isn't he?

Mini Me

When Hallie came to my office a couple of weeks ago she asked to see my classroom. It took her about two minutes to declare herself the teacher and instruct me to sit down in the chairs for a lesson.

Today

So I won't forget. Today consisted of...

Sara sleeping in.
Me sleeping in.
Hallie's colored picture "for mommy's office."
Girls in matching navy and red dresses for church (although only one wore a pink cast on her arm)
Brooks singing "Bless the Lord, oh my Soul" with me in church (and rejoicing that the "boys" were "louder than the mommies" due to the all-male praise band today).
Brooks sleeping on me in church.
A sermon reminding us that we are extravagantly loved.
Yummy casserole that I didn't make.
Naps!!
A relatively clean house.
A picnic in my front yard, complete with little faces dripping with strawberry Popsicles and silly laughter. And more than one proclamation that this was "A Great Day!"
Time on the porch with Jason, talking about the week ahead and watching tv.


Plagued by the occasional whiny interlude, some sibling strife, and a few reportedly mutant bugs that sent my girls running in and out of the house all afternoon, this was not a perfect day. But it was truly great, and I am so thankful.

Big Plans

Somehow our dinner conversation turned to Halloween costumes last night.  This was entirely led by the three-year-old, who had some definite ideas.  He first posited that he might be an airplane.  Sure.  Easy to make. 

His sisters suggested a couple of other options, including a robot (one of our family friends wore the coolest homemade robot costume ever last year, and apparently Sara has not forgotten it).

Finally he settled on a helicopter.  At which time he involved Baby Jake and announced, "Jake can be a helicopter too!  And we can fly together!"


So, Uncle James, this is your official warning:  we may need to get to work on Halloween costumes for B and J.  Like, now...

Letter of the Day

Our blog post today is brought to you by the letter F.  F is for "futile."

"Futile" is when you buy new flowers and plant them, only to find your three year old son picking them bloom by bloom.

Tomorrow's post will be brought to you by the letter S.  S is for "sanity."  Let me know if you see mine.