My First Week Home...

Alice did this:


It's not a great picture, because I was stupid and didn't take one when it was really dramatic, but it's stitches, or the scar from stitches she received on my last day of work. Poor Jackie--she had to rush Alice to the ER while I was at graduation watching my feet swell, and Joe had to take the day off to cover for me. But that's not all.

The day before I had to take Alice to get the stitches out, she did this:

I took this picture this morning, after Alice has had a day or so to look better. Yes, this is looking good compared to yesterday, when her eye was swollen shut, or the night before when she looked like she had been hit with a stinging hex, like on Deathly Hallows. Or Igor, is another reference that seems to fit. Poor Joe was with her when she tripped over some shoes of some teenager's at the Arctic Circle play area and met the stair with her eye. He was practically in tears when he brought her home and told me that I had to take her to the ER because he couldn't handle it. I decided to wait until the morning, since I was had to take her there anyway to get her stitches out.

I tried to hold it together until Alice went to bed so she wouldn't get scared, but as soon as she went down, I fell apart. I try not to cry in front of Alice or Joe because Alice gets scared, and Joe blames himself for whatever I'm crying about, but I couldn't help it this time. Alice looked so bad, we couldn't see any sort of bone structure under her eyes, and I was convinced that she would need reconstructive surgery. Then, I couldn't sleep all night because visions of blood clots and strokes haunted me. Finally, I couldn't take it, and I crawled into bed with her so I could monitor her breathing. Alice rolled over, woke up, and saw me. She put her hand softly on my cheek and said, "Hi, Mommy. I otay. I all better now." Then rolled over and went back to sleep. I felt calm after that and decided to go back to my own bed.

And then I got up four more times to check on her.

This is why we don't have boys in my family, I guess. Because we FREAK out. And because Alice is more than enough trouble for both of us. Yesterday, then, I took my mom to the ER with me for a witness that I don't really beat my child, and to hold down the freakishly strong Alice when they took her stitched out.

And then my mom made me go to Arctic Circle to "firmly let the manager know what happens when they don't follow their own rules" (shoes are supposed to be kept on at all times, and no one over 48 inches tall is supposes to be playing. Both of which were not being enforced). It's no wonder I became a teacher. My mom is such a rule-follower, and gets upset when no one else is. I think rule-following is an inherited trait, which is why, I assume, I have always gotten upset, even in fourth grade, when grammar rules weren't followed. How else can we communicate when no one follows the rules? So, I (a little too politely for my mom's taste) informed the manager what happens when people don't follow the rules. And then we got ice cream.

The plan this week was to get portraits for Father's Day. And to take Alice to a friend from High School's wedding to brag to my old boyfriend about how pretty my kid is when his are ugly. Oh, Alice. You do have a way of humbling me.