A harvest-hovercraft has been a fantasy of mine for a long, long time. Something you lie facedown upon, with a forehead support and arms free, to garden, weed, or in this case, pick berries, while it moves up or down, probably controlled by toe movements -- that's what I needed today. These berry bushes are high, and even with a stepstool, reaching up through very old, very brambly berries cost me in lacerations.
Speaking of lacerations? After I made a batch of way too runny jam/waffle topping (mmmmmm, blackberries and powdered sugar, anyone? Allison?), the bigger girls came home from sailing and I was just about to make lunch when the dining room erupted with screams. On my way to the bathroom following the screamer, I noticed that there was a swath of what appeared to be jam all over the floor -- in a droplet/spray pattern.Hmm, is that jam on the floor? Nope, it was, in fact, blood, the blood of my only son. Seems he was using a butter knife in an unapproved way and laid open his index finger about 1/3 of the way around, right above a bendy spot.
Channeling my sister, I said, "Get in the car," and off we went to our friendly local hospital and its blessedly inactive emergency room. I had called our pediatrician's office to see if they'd like to suture it, but they were closed for lunch.
While it took longer than we'd hoped, and there were tears, he was a great patient through three different nerve block needles, followed by much cleaning and then three stitches. Now I have to keep him clean and dry (ha ha ha ha) for at least five days, and the stitches in for ten.
Many people in the emergency department commented on the, erm, lack of cleanliness he exhibited. Since I know some boys go through an anti-hygiene stage, I'm not usually bothered by it. When I realized that he also had mismatching socks on and had dried blackberry jam in his hair, I felt a little worse. At least I'd changed from running/berrying clothes into a Suburban Mom Secret Agent costume, so no one called any government agencies on me.
Eric came home as soon as he could, and he and I did the "hi, honey, I'm so glad you could come, bye, I'll take this one, you take those" talk. It was a real treat to have him home during the day, even if it was because of something rough. Besides, he's sunburned from yesterday and needed a rest.
So, I didn't cook tonight but treated us to wraps and soup from the local joint, and spent my "oughta be grading" time plying. Now I have this somewhat muddy-colored two ply to measure tomorrow. It's not really floating in outer space, that's just the effect of a dimly-lit room on flash photography:
And I still haven't showered and must grade some papers tonight. I am truly and fully blessed.
3 comments:
don't feel bad. i ended up in the emergency room so much between my younger daugher & son (they're 8 years apart, you'd think one of them would have been a little safer!) that they knew me by name! they're my danger babies (the daughter is now 22, and STILL a risk-taker. i don't have to pay her doctor bills any more, though, lol). and they never ended up with less than jam in their hair, dirt on their feet, or other insanity going on (DD ended up going barefoot because she'd stepped on a roofing nail, one time!)
I'm stuck on "blackberries and powdered sugar"...YUM!
Oh, what a day. I'm glad everything ended all right. I must say, even after the blood spatter talk, I was chuckling a bit at "using a butter knife in an unapproved way."
Fingers crossed, we've only ever had one ER visit per child, so maybe you'll be as lucky with T3. Hope so. Stitches SUCK, no matter what anybody says.
Your spinning is really amazing. You have such a way about you. You really do.
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