I was up by 5:00am, ironing Lance's jeans.
The kids slept in as they always do and we played outside most of the day-- riding the Ranger, playing trucks in the dirt, throwing the football and riding their scooters down the driveway.
It was a perfect 80 degree day, a gift for Texas in July...
And aside from the grasshoppers, occasional bickering, and Beckham's desire to measure everything in site-- a great day for us.
Our entire driveway is probably a half of a mile long, and the kids were running to the half-way gate and back-- giggling and trying to race each other.
It was a little after six and I sat on my front porch watching them, drinking my sweet tea, soaking it all in--
until Maddox busted up the serenity with a death curdling scream.
As a mom, you know your kids scream... this really wasn't his 'I'm hurt' cry-- it was a scream.. an over and and over, death curdling scream.
Maddox tends to be my more dramatic kid so I didn't pop up and race to him. I stood and started my way down the driveway saying, "stop screaming and use your words Maddox." (he used that against me later)
By the time I made it to him, he had stopped screaming but there was not a lick of color left in his face. No tears either. Just pale skin, and a look of horror.
He was looking into the sky, holding his arm out as if it were made of lead, saying, "Do you see it? Is there an extra bone?'
Our driveway is made of dirt and not the best riding ground for his scooter. He took a fall and tried to catch himself... The number one way that kids break their arm.
My gut said it was a fracture, specifically a buckle fracture but the only thing throwing me for a loop was Maddox.
We came inside and bathed... and though he refused to use his hand, he never cried about pain.
He would yelp if you attempted to manipulate it, but otherwise just kept it tucked to his body-- and going on about his normal business.
I gave him ibuprofen, braced him up with ice packs and towels, and called his pediatrician for advice.
By this time it had started swelling and bruising, and she was pretty sure it was fractured as well. She offered to meet me at the office that night or come in early the next morning.
Since his pain was not an issue, we chose the latter.
Dr Hayward has been so good to me over the years, in times of crisis. I honestly work for some of the greatest doctors in Fort Worth. ...and that's not just my opinion.
Because we have such a high deductible, we are basically self pay. I had asked her if she was okay if I went to a free-standing X-ray clinic rather than the hospital, for a cheaper rate.
She was okay with that... But it was my first mistake.
The tech was super nice, cute, and young. But the first tears shed from Maddox were on the X-ray table as she tried to manipulate his bones for the right angle. I kept telling him that it was okay, the picture is really fast and we needed to see the bone to determine the fracture...
but the girl felt bad for him and kept trying different things so that he wasn't in pain.
I obviously do not want my child to be in pain, but I also do not want to drop the cash on films that are un-readable as these were.
We left there and headed to the mall where I was able to finish Maddox's school clothes shopping (although they left the stealing thing on a pair of Nikes, so I have to go back), ate mall-pizza by their request together at the food court, and lost 6 quarters in the little riding things that didn't work-- all by noon.
I realized while we were there that I NEVER go to the mall anymore. I use to frequent that joint a few times a month I would guess-- and I bet I have been twice in 2 years! My kids were in awe, like it was Disney Land. And that kind of makes me laugh.
While we were eating, a grown man belched as if he were home alone in his underwear and full of gas! My kids both looked at me with their eyes as big as oranges and Maddox whispered, "manners". They aren't the best at their manners, but they both have their caps off their head before we eat, without being prompted and-- let me stop there... Maddox just told me that he tooted with every step from his room to me. True story.
Also at lunch, I mentioned that Maddox's cheeks looked red. Beckham chimed in, between his bites of pizza to seriously say, "when you cheeks are red, that means you love somebody."
...they are such little romantics.
Maddox had Lance tell me, "you look pretty on Valentines Day" while we were eating dinner recently. I questionably told him thanks, and then I saw Maddox shoot Lance the quick wink and thumbs up across the table. I guess that's the most romantic thing he could come up with-- he's such a lover-- and maybe my cheeks were red. :)
...but just remember that same little love-nugget toots when he walks.
On a final bathroom break in Dillard's, I asked if the boys needed to go too. Maddox said yes, and Beckham said no. (typical)
As I was washing my hands, B came out with his pants still unbuttoned and said, "can you help me?" He has officially been potty trained a full year but he rarely goes without someone coming with him, and most of the time he convinces you to hold his back while he goes teetee, and he wants to hug you when he poops.
I said, "Did you potty, Beckham?" and Maddox excitably said, "he did! And he didn't even pee all over the walls!! Good job Beckham!!" I am sure the lady in the next stall appreciated that too!
We stopped by Target afterward for a few necessities, and a little Spiderman toy on Clearance as an atta'boy to go with his green splint and xray bravery.
Dr Hayward called to report a "cortical fracture of the distal diametaphyseal junction", per the radiologist.
...Which even google, had no help for me.
She was confused by the jargon, but felt confident we could just splint and re-film in 3 weeks.
Lance got home from work and feeding, and started loving on the little splinted one.
He casually shows me a picture of a yellow lab (that I thought we had agreed we weren't going to get) and said, "your sister is on her way here with him. I've named him Goose."
I wasn't thrilled.
I am not an animal person, and we all know this thing will be MY responsibility by default.
Maddox, like me, isn't too impressed with animals and his Spiderman toy was quite enough in my opinion. Five minutes into Goose's life in our house he ran between Maddox's legs causing him to fall on his broken and splinted arm.
Beckham loves dogs but it only took one scratch with razor sharp claws for him to decide that he is terrified by him too. And when Lance offered Goose a tiny lamb of Beckham's that we have never seen him touch, ever, he swore it was his favorite tiny baby.
I thought my breaking point was when it peed on the carpet and Lance handed me a paper towel to clean it up...
Or maybe 30 minutes later when Maddox shouted at me from the potty that he had pooped and couldn't wipe his hiney with his brace on. --which isn't that big of a deal--
But as I was walking towards the bathroom, he shouted again, "only mommy come. I made a big mistake."
I expected to find his splinted arm covered in poop-- but instead I found Lance's phone in the bottom of the toilet, accompanied by poop, and not a lick of life left in it.
It will be my responsibility to get that phone replaced-- add it to the list.
But no, my actual breaking point was around 3:00am when I was up for the sixth time to crying, whining, barking and howling-- plus two little boys, who couldn't sleep through the commotion.
I know how to make a newborn human stop crying.
I have birthed two, and coached more mommies than I can count.
But I have zero maternal instant for the 4-legged community.
And after attempting everything I knew-- I shut the bathroom door and moved the kids to my room.
Shut my bedroom door, and placed a pillow over my head.
5 minutes back into bed, Beckham (who never has accidents) peed on me. I hopped up saying, "Beckham! You're teeteeing!", he answered back, "it's okay. Just lay down."
Don't judge me. But that's just what I did.
That dog has slept all day. And cried. And pissed on the carpet.
So I anticipate being awake all night-- and more crying-- and more pee anywhere but outside.
I work Saturday-- so the thought of tonight, is about as exciting as the thought of cancer.
Dr Hayward called an orthopedist this morning and he wants to see Maddox Monday morning at 8:30. He said the radiology report was vague and a grand explosion of useless words.
My excitement of a $200 broken arm just tripled, but what else do you do?
I'm exhausted, I'm frustrated, I'm PMSy, and my house smells like puppy breath.
It's been a downhill slide.
And I think I just need a good cleansing cry.
Or to gouge Lance in his jugular-- that might be nice too.