Who’s ready for more complaining? Here we go:
* The Shrieking Shower: My shower head has developed a piercing whistle, clearly audible throughout the house. The Internet suggested that I soak it in vinegar, which I did, and that helped for a couple of weeks. Then the scream returned. So I need to replace that shower head. Like I need another thing to do.
* Shot Glass 9/11: So last week, Dante is helping Laura do some dishes. I have no idea how, but my shot glass (which I bought as a souvenir from a trip to New York) got mixed up in the affair. I had washed it in the dishwasher the night before, but it must have taken a detour on its way back to the cupboard. Anyway, it snuck its sneaky little way into the disposal, and when Laura turned that disposal on… well, you can imagine what happened. When I heard about this, I gave up the disposal for dead, but Laura, bless her heart, put on rubber gloves and fished pieces of glass out of the disposal until it resumed normal function. So all I lost was a shot glass, but boy did I lose it in a dramatic way.
* Breaker, Breaker: The main circuit breaker in our house keeps tripping, by which I mean it tripped twice Friday and once yesterday. We don’t have any new electrical equipment to finger as a suspect, and the times that it’s tripped we haven’t been running a crazy amount of appliances or anything. It just trips. I go out there, and the main switch feels hot. I think we’re looking at needing an electrician. See above about another thing to do, and add to it a note reading “Like I need to spend more money.”
* Dazed And Contused: So at about 8:00 last night I’m talking to my Dad on the phone about our electricity problem, and had stepped outside to look at the breaker box, leaving our sliding glass back door open. I saw Dante coming out of the corner of my eye, and turned around just in time to see him pitch forward and smack his head on our concrete step. I think he thought the door was still closed, so he went to lean forward on the glass… which wasn’t there.
A big bruise came up immediately on his forehead, plus some contusions under his eye. We called our pediatrician’s on-call service and talked to a nurse at Children’s Hospital. I was able to give pretty reassuring answers to all her questions — he didn’t lose consciousness, he recovered his mood quite quickly, the bruise is less than 2 inches in diameter, he seems able to focus on things, etc. She advised us that we didn’t need to head to the emergency room, but that we should ice his head for 20 minutes, and then do it again an hour later. So we did that. Then we put him to bed, a lot later than usual at this point. I don’t think he got to sleep until 10:30 — his usual is 9:00.
Per the advice of the nurse, at 12:30 I woke him up to see if he was coherent. Let me tell you, this was torture. My goal was to get him to say two words to me, and it took fully half an hour. He just kept crying. Even when he wasn’t crying, he would just look at me with this pleading expression. He kept coming over and hugging me too, no doubt hoping I’d take pity on him and put him back to bed. I just kept asking these questions, and he would not reply. Finally, about 20 minutes in, he croaked out the word “green” in answer to a “what color is this balloon?” question. Then, 10 minutes after that, I was asking him what he wanted to do, and he said “go downstairs.” So I went downstairs, walked him around, turned out all the lights, and put him back in the crib. Along the way, I tried standing him up, walking him around, changing his diaper, etc. It was rough.
Then Laura woke him again at 4:30 for a similar test. This time he talked fine (the first thing he said was “dry”, apparently believing that we’d taken it into our heads to do random nighttime diaper inspections.) However, he fiercely refused to be put back in the crib, nor did he want Laura to lie with him on the couch — he kept saying “all by self.” He wanted the freedom to fall off the couch on his own, evidently. Finally Laura got to sleep with him on the couch, but I think she only got about 1 hour of sleep between 4:30 and 8:30. I was awake much of the time from 4:30 on as well, because he was screaming for a goodly portion of it. We are both zombies today.
I welcome all reassurances that 1) this hurricane will ease sometime soon, and 2) all kids get banged up, and we don’t need to be more helicoptery as parents.