Thank God I'm not working because if I was, this week would have been hell. It's been cray cray over here. It started out Monday morning in the wee hours. At 2 am on Monday, I felt a tap on my shoulder. What the hell? My 12 year old was standing in front of me in tears.
"Mom, I can't sleep. My legs are hurting." Oh no, not again. When she has a growth spurt she has leg pain in the middle of the night. Between 9-10 years old she grew 5 inches and this was a common occurrence. I got up, went downstairs and got her some ibuprofen and water. After she took the medicine, she looked at me with big puppy dog eyes and said, "Can I sleep with you guys?" I told her she could.
My 5 foot tall, 100 pound child climbed in-between us in our queen sized bed, Then she clung to me like a little baby spider monkey while I cliff hung off the edge of the bed. When I was sure she was fast asleep, I slipped out and went to sleep in her room. I woke up hugging a stuffed animal.
She had band camp all week and the 10 year old had gymnastics camp so we were all up early. There were lunches to be made, snacks to be packed, and children to be shuffled. I was tired but I took an epic nap that afternoon. I f**king love naps.
On Wednesday, my 10 year old had a orthodontist appointment at 11 am. I wanted her to stay home from gymnastics camp that morning. I told her I would take her in the afternoon. That was not acceptable.
"Mom, just drop me off at 8. I can get 3 hours in before the appointment. That's what I need to do."
The child is OBSESSED with gymnastics. She wants to quit school and move in with some Chinese coach and do gymnastics all day. I'm like, "NO."
She watches gymnastics videos on Youtube all the time and gives me the play by play. That morning when I dropped her off she was talking about the Russian team. "They just made silly mistakes. The one girl went over the line, they weren't sticking their landings. The Russians are good, and the Chinese too but I think the US is the best..."
I dropped her off at 8 and then turned around to pick her up at 11. When I walked into the gym, she was sitting with an ice pack on her hand. She wasn't crying - until she saw me.
"What happened, baby?"
"I was doing a back handspring and I jammed my finger."
"Let me see it."
I was expecting a red finger. She removed the ice pack...
Her middle finger and the knuckle were swollen and bruised and her middle finger was completely bent to the side. It was very unnatural looking. It was a shocking sight.
"When did this happen?" I asked the coach.
"Literally, right before you got here."
I turned back to my daughter. "Can you move it? Does it hurt?"
"I can't feel it and I can't move it,"she replied.
My heart sunk into my stomach. That can't be good.
I gathered her things and we drove straight to urgent care. She was sobbing on the way there.
"Why are you crying like that? Does it hurt?"
"I'm not going to be able to train...." she sobbed. She was so upset about having to sit out practices.
"Well, let's just see what the doctor says."
They ushered us back as soon as we got there and the doctor ordered an x-ray. After it was read, they came back in and told us it was dislocated and they were going to pop it back into place. My daughter immediately started having a freak out.
I held her hand while they gave her some shots to numb it. Then I watched as they pulled out her finger and reset it. This poor child screamed bloody murder. I felt terrible for her. Then, it was done. They left to go get a splint and we looked at her finger. She could feel it and bend it, which was good. It was so swollen and tight it looked like her skin would just rip open.
They came back with a tool box and what looked like a curtain rod. They put it up against her finger, bent it and cut it to size. It's a huge-ass splint. She held it up and was basically giving me the middle finger. By the time we left, she was back to her normal self.
I got her home, gave her some Motrin, fixed her lunch, and put on the TV. She was good to go. Then, the door bell rang. It was the termite bond guy. I forgot he was scheduled to come that day. I thought I'd had enough excitement for one day - but I was wrong.
He explained what he was going to do, I signed some papers. He smiled at me and was very friendly. I didn't think anything of it. The outlet outside wasn't working so I plugged in the electrical cord inside. I told him to let me know if I needed to do the same for the backyard.
He give me a smirk and said, "That's okay. I have a very, very, VERY long cord," Then he chuckled. What the f**k? The way he said it, gave me the impression that he was not talking about the extension cord.
I went back inside. I called my husband. "Dude, I think the termite guy just hit on me,"
"Why do you think that?"
"He just smiled at me and told me he has a very, very, VERY long cord. I think he was alluding to his wiener."
"I'm sure you are taking it out of context. I'm sure he didn't say it like that."
"He said very 3 times and he was giving me a weird smirk the whole time. Why couldn't he just say 'The cord will reach' or 'I should be able to get to the back yard.' I'm telling you, he was being a weirdo."
"You think everyone is hitting on you."
"I DO NOT."
"Oh yeah? What about the washing machine guy?"
In my defense, the washing machine repair guy was trying to flirt with me and then when I was in the laundry room writing him a check, he leaned into me and told me I smelled delicious. So, that is legit.
I DO NOT think that everyone hits on me. The lawn guy has never hit on me, the FedEx man has never hit on me, the contractor who fixed the porch never hit on me, the mailman has never hit on me, I have been around a lot of men who have never hit on me but the termite guy totally was.
I don't think that I am worthy to be hit on. I'm just pretty average mom-type. The termite guy seems like a guy who is playing a numbers game. Like, if he hits on enough housewives, statistically one of them is going to go for it. Gross. I did not want to hear about the very, very, VERY long cord anymore.
When he was done, I signed the rest of the paperwork and avoided eye contact with him. Then, I went upstairs to check on my little one. She held up her splint. "Look mom, I'm giving you the middle finger and I can't even get in trouble for it."
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