On Tuesday nights, I have Girl Scouts. I host my Brownie troop, of which Savannah is a member, at my home. After meetings, before moms and dads come to collect their girls, the kids go out and jump on the trampoline.
Well - on this last Tuesday, I not only had my 7 Brownies, but also Nicolette, Brigham, Joseph, and Joshua Rosales all jumping on the trampoline. For those of you who can't add numbers in your head, that is 11 children. WAAYYY more than the recommended amount.
I was inside, talking with some moms. I could hear them getting rowdier and rowdier outside, but I was enjoying my "adult time", and chose to ignore them. Without parental supervision, they started to make wild decisions, one of which was to all jump as hard as they could at the same time and see what happened.
Have you ever jumped on a trampoline? Have you ever played a game called "Crack the Egg?" Well - that's essentially what happened...they all came down, went up, and the trampoline, under the immense amount of stress, snapped back up and popped them up so high in the air that they lost control and went careening into each other, crashing and landing in a tangled, quivering heap.
Now - here's the proof of bad parenting. First, I didn't stop something from happening when I knew disaster was eminent.
Second - when I think about what happened, instead of cringing and feeling guilty and dialing the number of CPS to turn myself in, I can't help but laugh. I'm SORRY!!! It's true...I can just picture the look on all their faces as they realize that their master plan is about to result in mass injury, and I can hear Joseph's voice above all the squeals-of-delight-turned-to-panicked-screaming, and he's yelling: "Ohhhh! CRAP!!!!!!"
Well - needless to say, there were a lot of injuries. Jessica cut her bottom lip on her braces. Nicolette and Amanda bonked heads very hard. Katie cut open her heal on someones mouth. But no one was crying as hard as Brigham.
Now - I've told you how competitive Brigham is. He's also a very tough little guy...so if he's hysterical, it must hurt. And he was HYSTERICAL, and cradling his left hand. But as I looked at his hand, I couldn't see any swelling or bruising. So I made him stop crying and gave him a bath, and then I put him to bed. I wrote a note on the fridge reminding me to call his pediatrician in the morning, and I went to bed.
At 10pm, Jason and I awoke to Brigham SCREAMING. We rushed in his room, and found him quivering in bed, huge tears rolling down his face. He had rolled over on his arm. We looked at his hand, and it was swollen almost 3 times the size of his uninjured hand, and a very disconcerting shade of purple. Jason looked at me, and I rolled my eyes and said: "I'll get the keys."
We took him to Memorial West Emergency (an AWESOME Childrens Emergency), and they saw him right away. They asked him how much it hurt, and showed him a chart made of smiling faces that went from happy to sad. He pointed to the middle face. Then they took his vitals, and his blood pressure came back at 124 over 84. The nurse looked at him with wide eyes and said: "Oh my gosh! He must be in a lot of pain. Can someone get me some Motrin?" she called into the hall.
I knew he would say it didn't hurt as bad as it did... just to prove he was tough. But his shivering and blood pressure gave him away. (Just so you know and can compare, after Motrin, his blood pressure went down to 111 over 71).
They took x-rays, but couldn't find anything. Still, the swelling and bruising was bad, and the doctor on call was afraid he's broken a growth plate, so she splinted his arm and gave me a referral for a Pediatric Orthopedic Specialist.
The next day, we got into the Ortho guy, and he reviewed the x-rays. He also unwrapped Brig's hand and looked at it. (And yes - it was still as swollen and blue as it was the night before). Sure enough, he had a hairline fracture that traveled from his thumb, across his hand, and down into the growth plate in his wrist. The crack wasn't big, but he told us that breaking a growth plate is EXTREMELY painful. He illustrated by applying a small amount of pressure on the top of Brig's hand, and Brig almost leapt right off the counter.Well - after the diagnosis comes the fun part. Brig got to pick the color of his cast, and the nurse let Nicolette help put it on. While the nurse wrapped his arm in cotton, Nicolette soaked the fiberglass cast in water, and then brought it to the nurse and helped her wrap it.
Then she helped rub soap all over the finished cast. It was so sweet of the nurse to let Nicolette help so much, and now Nicolette wants to be a nurse, too.
And Brigham has a brand new, bright blue cast.And just for further evidence against my ability to successfully mother my kids...this is Brighams SECOND break...in the first, he broke both his ulna and radius when he was 3-years-old by riding his tricycle down the basement stairs...
But that, my friends, is another story....