Bucket Head

After having dealt with one injured family member (namely Auntie Katie), Mikie figured I might miss playing the role of Florence Nightingale.

I got a call from the daycare two days after returning from Maryland. Evidently, one of the little girls threw water at Mikie. Except, instead of just throwing the water, she threw the whole bucket. It hit Mikie in the head and cut his eye. They assured me it wasn't deep, but might need a butterfly stitch because of the location.

I immediately left work and drove to get him. I was greeted at daycare by the following sight:

Mikie, who had been sitting next to the teacher, soaking wet in his bathing suit, jumped up, proudly shouting "Look, Mom, I got a boo-boo on my eye!". Jillian, Mikie's friend, was following me around saying "Is Mike gonna be okay?" and "I'm sorry, Mike". Too which Mikie responded with "Jilly gave me a boo boo!" I was frantically trying to dry Mikie off, change him into clothes, console Jillian, listen to the teacher who was apologizing, and digest the situation without crying at the sight of my beautiful child's face.

Unfortunately, between water play and the extra attention, Mikie was enjoying himself too much to leave with me. So, I naively promised that after we went to see the doctor we could get ice cream. One ice cream can't hurt. And, he's injured!

30 minutes later, we were fast approaching the doctor's office. In spite of the fact it was not yet 5 o'clock, and they are open until 8, I got the answering service. As I pulled off the exit ramp to go to the pediatrician's, they called me back to tell me to go directly to the ER in case he needs stitches. 45 minutes later, we arrived in Worcester at UMass Memorial. Dressed in my work clothes (translation: slacks with heels), I carry my 37-lb 2-1/2 year old, his diaper bag, my purse, and his Buzz Lightyear action figure through the construction zone, into the hospital, and around the inside to the ER. After checking in, physically and emotionally exhausted, I settled down, expecting a long wait.

The first thing Mikie saw: the cleaning woman's cart parked outside the bathroom. He kept pulling me, saying "Let's check it out, Mom". Trust me, he doesn't get it from me, but the kid loves to clean. To distract him from that (and the automatic doors that exit the ER) I showed him a hiding spot under the console table between the couches in the waiting room (yes, this ER was much nicer than any other I have been in). Of course, right after he wedged himself and Buzz under the table, they called our name. So, I literally dragged my child out from under the table by his feet, threw him over my shoulder and carried him back to the registration desk.

Charmer that he is, the staff loved him, and we were in and out of the ER within an hour. But, not before he managed to score a grape popsicle from the doctor in the pedes unit. . . without even asking! She heard him say, "I want ice cream, Mom", after they put drops in his eye to check that his cornea wasn't scratched and magically she reappeared with a popsicle.

An hour later, after we arrived back home and ate dinner, I had to take him back out for the ever promised ice cream. Because, as I found out, if you promise a kid an ice cream, a popsicle from a doctor doesn't count.

And, when the ice cream truck came by the following day, Trouble managed to guilt Mike and I into getting him ANOTHER ice cream.

Let's just say that three ice creams in two days is a lot of sugar for a child who's only source of sugar is fruit. Talk about high energy!Now, he looks like the Hockey Player he aspires to be (with a few extra teeth). Although, with all that ice cream, they should rot away in no time!

Love, the Trahans

Monkeying Around Town

While I was playing nurse and moving crew to Auntie Katie, Mike and Mikie were back in Massachusetts monkeying around.

They went to the beach on Friday to see Grandma Kerrie. Mikie conned Grandma Kerrie into walking him down to the water's edge (translation: he dragged her into the water until her shoes and jeans were saturated). And, while he didn't admit to it, I am sure she and Grumpy Grandpa Norm let Mikie make himself a tasty ice cream treat. After leaving the beach they headed to a local playground in Westerly and found a zip line (or zipper line as Mikie calls it) that Mikie rode back and forth more than a dozen times and made a couple new friends.

On Saturday, they ventured to Southwick's Zoo, which is only 15 minutes from our house. Mikie had a great time. Mike let him take a picture of the giraffe. Guess which picture the pint-sized version took:

They also checked out the monkeys and lions. Here are some other amusing pictures from the trip:

The two monkeys.

Mikie with his goat friend.

Love, The Trahans

The Fall

So, last weekend, I flew down to Maryland to help my sister pack and move. Katie, in the ultimately ploy to avoid doing any work herself, dislocated her knee before I arrived. And, because she is my sister, and the story makes me laugh, I am going to further humiliate her by posting it here:

It is 5am on Thursday, June 14th. My sister is in the shower, getting ready for the last day of school. She turns off the water, reaches for a towel, and slips, knocking her right knee into the side of the tub. Immediately, she knows she dislocated it. . . partly because she had dislocated her left knee two weeks before my wedding. . . and partly because it was rotated 90 degrees from where it should have been. First thought, call 911.

So, she crawls down the hall to the bedroom to get her cell phone. Unfortunately, as she talks to the operator, she realizes that the apartment door is locked (deadbolt and all). The operator informs her that if she cannot unlock the door, they will have to break it down. My sister calls Fabrice, hoping he can meet them at the door and unlock it, but he is an hour away. Fabrice calls his cousin, Basil (pronounced Bah-zeel), who lives in the same apartment complex and has a spare key. The only problem is, my sister had the locks changed a month ago, and forgot to give Basil a new key.

Shortly after hanging up with 911, the fire department bangs down the door. And in runs Basil and two firefighters, to find my sister, laying soaking wet, and naked (except for a towel) on the bed. Basil gives her a shirt, but she can't get anything over her knee without causing excruciating pain. So, naked from the waist down, they roll her onto a back board, and begin carrying her out of the apartment.

Evidently, trouble ensued as the two firemen holding her head were rather large (read: drank too much beer at the firehouse). My sister's hallway is about 2-3 feet wide, and turns 90 degrees at one point. So, my sister heard the following conversation as they tried to carry her out of her bedroom:

Fireman #1: "Should we be the ones in here?"

Fireman #2: "Why not?"

Fireman #1: "Well, that hallway is kind of narrow. Do you think we will get stuck?"

Fireman #2: "We'll just suck it in."

At which point, my sister started laughing so hard, she was shaking (which only hurt her knee more).

In addition to "sucking it in", they had to strategically lower her head and raise her feet to an almost vertical position in order to navigate the turns down the hall.

Upon arriving to the ER, still naked from the waist down, she had X-rays. The orderly, not knowing she was naked, kept trying to move her towel.

Finally, she was discharged, knee popped back into place, and equipped with crutches. Basil had the foresight to bring her underwear and clothes, but forgot socks and shoes. So, the hospital gave her a pair of socks to leave in. Because, when you have little enough traction with crutches, you want to wear socks on a slippery floor.

When she arrived back at her apartment, she found the door hanging open. It was mishapen from the force of the fire company. The deadbolt was broken off in the lock, and the door frame was broken. Amazingly, no one had robbed her while she was gone. I had to call a locksmith to come to her apartment before I flew down there so that we weren't sleeping in an unsecure building (she didn't live in the best neighborhood).

I told her for Christmas I am going to get her one of those medic alert necklaces (the one's with the lady that cries "I've fallen, and I can't get up). I am also going to install a phone in her bathroom, and leave an emergency kit of clothes on her toilet to avoid future naked trips to the hospital. On the plus side, I told her she could have picked up a new husband. Of course, given her luck that day, it most likely would have been some toothless orderly with a record, not a doctor.

Love, The Trahans