5am: Small boy staring at me over the edge of my bed. “What’s up, kiddo?” “Nothing.” “Go back to sleep.” “Ok.” He does. I don’t.
7am: Time to get up. Am greeted by a kitchen full of feathers and one partially denuded bird. And a very pleased cat. Take away the bird, put it outside in a bush, and start sweeping. Grrr. Feathers everywhere. At least the bird either managed to fly away, or settle down into the yew branch to die. Cat is a total jerk about this whole thing, demanding affection for her mighty hunting prowess.
9am: Gym class for the kiddo. And for whatever reason, he’s sort of being a pill at class. Not being friendly with his friends, trying to start a fight with me, “Mommy, let’s just go home. NO, no, no, I changed my mind!” All this until class was over, at which point he got very manically happy, and…
10am: While playing a rousing game of chase with his best buddy (whom he’d been snubbing all class) he collided tooth-first with a littler kid. Littler kid is fine, but Henry’s wailing and then utters the words of despair, “Mommy, this really really hurts. Oh, and I can’t close my mouth.” No blood at all, but I look closer and one of his front teeth is totally in the wrong place.
Shit. Why do these things keep happening on my watch? I swear I’m not a neglectful mom, though you wouldn’t necessarily know it based on his injury record.
10:30am: Get the kid home, call the pediatric dentist who wants nothing to do with my description of what’s going on. Sends us straight to an oral surgeon. By this time, kiddo’s hungry as hell, so I feed him pudding, which holds him til his appointment in 2 hours.
12:30pm: Kiddo is charming everyone in the waiting room with his adorable little 3-year-old self. He found a decrepit viewfinder (remember those? I’m totally getting him one of his own!) and amused himself (and the rest of the waiting room) narrating grand dinosaur adventures until it was his turn.
The next 2 hours passed in a bit of a blur. There were pliers involved. And tears. There was some pain medicine that I think turned that child against apple juice forever. There was an xray taken, and there was some deliberation over whether to pull it now, or give it a chance to see if it’ll heal in place. We’re attempting to salvage the tooth, so she just wrenched it back into place. Which was sort of horrifying to watch. Even stoned out of his mind on pain drugs, it hurt him. But the tooth isn’t broken, and he can close his mouth again. And he might get to keep the tooth, so that’s good. (Or if might abscess, causing him more pain a month or a year down the road. We’ll see.)
Back at home, after a truly silly 45 minute drive home wherein he made absolutely no sense at all, he progressed from stoned/happy to stoned/manic to stoned/pissed off & exhausted/defiant. (“I will dance on one leg in circles, Mommy. I will fall on my face, Mommy!”) When I decided a nice warm bath might even out his rough edges, it turned out the hot water heater had fritzed out (this happens all the time.) So, no bath. Soup with rice, then early to bed. We’ll see if he wakes up sad in the middle of the night. We’ll see if all my nightmares tonight are about teeth falling out. Mine or his. Ugh.
It was not a good day, today, really, from start to finish. Tomorrow, I hope, will be better. (I’d say it could not be worse, but really, I’m nowhere near that foolhardy!) Going to bed now. I feel like a rubberband stretched tight all day, and now I’m just floppy with stress-reaction. Night.