So I text my sisters to tell them I'm in the ER, waiting to see if H has a broken nose. One sister texts back "I'm reporting you to (other sister)." Other sister works for child services. The other sister texts back "What did you do to her?"
My family loves me.
To be honest, H's injury is a direct result of disobeying Mommy. The kids are not supposed to be in the trampoline, because we haven't put the cover back over the springs yet. And the kids are not supposed to be in the trampoline all together EVER. So they were, of course. And H fell and smacked her face on the metal.
She wasn't howling in pain, so I figured she was fine. The husband got home and said her nose was broken. I told him he was nuts.
The next day, the swelling seemed to be going down, and everything looked fine to me.
The following evening, I noticed she had a black eye. And all I could think was "Damn. I really don't want to hear 'I told you so'."
So I finally took H in for x-rays. The desk people said it looked broken. The triage nurse said it was definitely broken. When the doctor came in with the results, SHE said she had figured it was broken, but the x-rays showed no sign of a fracture. She'll just look like a boxer for a few more days.
Between this and my own recent hospital experience(s), I am officially declaring myself Better Than Medical Professionals. This is my superpower.
I'd like to trade that superpower for the weekend for one that will allow me to paint a room in 10 minutes. We're doing a complete overhaul on H&M's bedroom. I hate this kind of thing. But it's way overdue, and I'm crossing my fingers that a new room will motivate them to keep things semi-neat and clean. At least for the first few weeks.
Time for Mike Tyson and I to start scrubbing the "art work" off those walls. Wish me luck!
The Boarding House by The Pioneer Woman
1 day ago