Poking My Head Out

blinking blearily into the sunlight, who, what, hmmm? I have been trapped at home the last few days with a Little Man who has a bad cold. And as always, he pretty much slurps me up with a straw when he is around. And me, being fairly round, I don't quite fit up the straw, so I just wiggle around uncomfortably at the end of the straw while he does his best to devour me, heart and soul.
He went back to school today with the help a Dayquil. And I am trying to put my life back into some semblance of order. Poor, poor Bald Man. The night before last, he went to bed pretty late, which wasn't bad, except Little Man woke him at 5:30 AM. That would be a shooting offense in my book. It wouldn't have been so bad, except last night? JJ called at 9:30 pm and informed us he needed to go to the ER, like right now! Eeek! The child was "playing" with his friends. If you are not a teenage boy, not married to anyone who was a teenage boy, or raising a teenage boy, you perhaps do not understand the level of physicalness their "play" devolves to. JJ got pushed onto a piece of VERY sharp metal and basically flayed his arm open. And cut the muscle. In more than one place. Many, many stitches later, we are just very grateful the child did not cut any nerves or arteries or tendons. If you are not squeamish, but instead intensely curious, JJ's best friend took pictures. I really did not feel comfortable posting them, but for the morbid, if you email me, ( I will never tell anyone you did!) I will email you the pictures back. Ack! Boys!
Me? I am feeling a bit wrung out and tired from the last few days. Tomorrow? Ah yes, Little Man will go to school again and I, I will go and play! Hooray!

Do you know how fast things can go from just fine to h-e- double toothpicks? Less than five minutes after I wrote the above, I get a phone call informing me that Little Man's bus was here and where was I? I was flabbergasted since I had assumed he had been picked up by his therapeutic afterschool program 45 minutes earlier. WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! No, Little Man instead was awaiting my arrival at the bus stop. Thank goodness, because he is disabled, they don't drop the kid off, they wait for someone to get there. The bus driver informs me, after I tell her, that he was NOT supposed to be here, that perhaps I should tell his teacher. Oh duh! Now why didn't I think of that? Oh wait! I did think of it and I actually had talked to his teacher, TWICE this week, informing her of his schedule. Gosh darn it all to heck anyway. So in spite of a couple of phone calls, I am unsure of where the gap was. Either his teacher, or the afterschool program. We will get to the bottom of it. And the heck with trying to create any semblance in my home today. Little Man is home and all my hopes are down the drain. Mountain Dew, I will drink you and hopefully feel more like dealing with the unexpected delivery of my child.