I was telling a friend yesterday how we were at somewhat of a lull in family drama lately.
So last night, I was wrapped up in a book and pretty much ignoring the kids. I'd called them for dinner, but they were having a good time playing outside, so I let dinner sit at the stove for a while longer so I could enjoy a moment of laziness.
In came most of the kids with a stray dog who wandered through most of the house before we finally got its flee-bitten hide back out the door. I sent Kristofer to gather everyone up for dinner, but no one came.
Next thing I knew, I took a call from a neighbor, "Konner is on his way home with my son. He hurt his knee."
When I took a look at the knee, I groaned inwardly. Stitches. Sure as it was dinnertime. Somehow, Konner had managed to take a chunk out of his knee. So I called the on-call doctor, who told me that yes, I did need to bring him in -- that a butterfly probably would not do the trick. While I was talking to Keith on the phone, the stray dog was brought into the house again.
"Mom, we're putting him in the basement!"
(I'm now talking to Keith about our medical issues) "No, you may not put the dog in the basement, and GET THAT DOG OUT OF MY ROOM!"
On the way to urgent care, while taking several cell phone calls and arranging for rides to See You at the Pole the next morning, I discovered that Konner had also hit his head during his "incident."
"Mom, my head hurts. I don't feel good."
"Mom, I'm really hungry," this from Kylie who had joined us. I figured I'd throw in a visit for her, since her coughing had gotten worse.
By the time we got to urgent care, Konner was laying pathetically across two chairs. I felt around for any lumps on his head and found a doozie at the side. I also found out that ice helps bumps for up to 24 hours, so even though it had been 1 1/2 hours since the incident, it was still a good idea to put ice on it. (Even after 16 years of "incidents", there is always something to learn.)
An hour later, we left. Konner sported five stitches on his knee with a nice bandage wrap that made him look like a war veteran. I decided to wait on Kylie until today since urgent care is $50 instead of a regular $20 doctor's visit. Kylie, who was starving by then, got a chip bag from the snack machine, and we went off to the car to go home.
Two minutes into our drive home, Konner threw up all over himself and the car. The Shermans' car. The one we're borrowing until our van is fixed. Kylie was breathing into her chip bag to keep from throwing up herself. As I kept driving, unable to even clean up the poor boy until we got home, I kept praying, "O Lord, PLEASE let Keith be home now!" so that he could clean up the car! And he was. And he did, while I stripped Konner of spaghetti macaroni clothes, spaghetti macaroni bandages around his poor knee and settled him into the recliner reserved for the sick and pathetic so that I could watch him for any other signs of concussion. Poor guy. He was so tired. I woke him up again at about 11:00 to check on him, but he was fine. So, leaving Keith in the family room with Konner dozing on the couch and Kylie in another recliner dipped in Vick's Vapor Rub, I went to bed!
Now it's Wednesday. The older kids have all made it to See You at the Pole, and I've got Konner and Kylie home with me for the day. Kylie has a doctor's appointment at 11:10, and then I'm sure we'll be on our way to get antibiotics after that. It's kind of nice, though, to have some company. Kody is deliriously happy. And they're hungry, of course, but what else is new.
I asked them this morning about school, and Konner said he really likes it. Kylie is worried that I won't get the proper permission note in for her to get back to school. And they're bored. Just like that, less than two weeks of school, and they're already acclimated to a school routine. Both Kylie and Kade talked about how they've never gotten their name on the board, and how terrible it is that Kade has gotten his name on the board TWICE. This doesn't surprise me too much, since Kade is a talker. Then they launched into stories about wayward classmates and how much trouble they had gotten into. Tisk, tisk, tisk.
They sure do grow up fast.
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