Agree to dog sit your sister's dog while they go to Cosumel and save leatherback turtles or whatever the heck you do when you're single and don't have any kids. I don't know. I'm too frigging tired from dealing with school, birthday cleanup, cranky kids because, you know, it wasn't THEIR birthday. Add some stress because he who shall remain nameless went out of town for a few days only to have the insurance adjustor and roofing guy show up and tell you your roof is indeed fucked and they don't want to pay for it. Either of them. All of which would have been a little easier to swallow if they didn't keep asking if your husband was around.
|Look. This is called foreshadowing.|
But anyway, back to scaring the crap out of yourself.
Get the kids ready for school, stuff them in the car, shove them out the door and hope to God school doesn't call and you make it to 3:30. Come back home with the baby and throw some clothes in the washer and throw all the clean ones from the dryer on the floor because you're going to have one hell of a backup if you don't keep the laundry train going. Realize you have to pee. Bad. Really bad. Like I'm gonna pee all down the side of my leg if I don't get a moving now, kind of bad.
Run down to the complete other end of the house to the toilet. Sweet Mother of Pearl does that feels good.
Hear a blood-curdling scream from the baby and a bark from the dog.
Pee all over yourself, toilet, down your leg and whatever else you come in contact with as you try desperatley to pull up your britches and find out what happened. Mentally shake fist at universe for not doing more Kiegels.
Realize the irony of the situation, that you did, indeed, pee all down your leg.
You see the baby.
Blood. On her face. By her eye. Blood and tears mingling. Screaming. Oh God the screaming. Still bleeding. The dog trying to lick her face. Not understanding. Not computing. You or the dog.
Her eye. It's swollen and sealed shut.
The dog wining in the background.
Realize blood is on your clean clothes and issue an internal memo to fuck laundry when you get home.
Snap out of it and stuff baby in car.
Call the Pediatrician and somehow find it weird you know their number by heart and that you had your phone but have no idea how you got it.
Forget shoes, purse, diaper bag.
But remember to kennel the dog.
Spend the remainder of the morning at Children's Mercy South.
Laugh manically when the security guard raises an eyebrow when you don't have ID or shoes.
Get placed in a room and wait.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Watch helplessly but stay strong as they bundle Gracie and hold her down as they look into her eye to check for abrasions or punctures.
Watch helplessly but stay strong as they irrigate wounds.
Watch helplessly but stay strong as she screams in terror.
Look at Registration Dude like, "WTF?!?" when he asks for the co-pay in the midst of it all.
Gracie given a clean bill of health.
Baby and dog miss each other and snuggle themselves to sleep.
Pour drink and finally cry.
Note: We later figured out what happened, after the swelling went down. Gracie has a habit of poking the dog in the eyes. I know, she's not my best child. Normally he shakes his head and she giggles and he licks her face. This time he was lying down sleeping and she was right in front of him. She poked him in the eye and he used his paw to rub it. Since she was so close to him she got scratched by his claws as he was rubbing his eye. As I was coming down the hallway from peeing he was trying to get me to help her. He had no idea what happened. At the time we couldn't tell if he bit or scratched her due to the swelling. After the swelling went down you can see scratches, not bites, on her face.
We are still watching the dog but he's now staying at my sister's house. I'm not that stupid. I don't trust Gracie not to poke him again.