Chemo mom · children · Comedy · Love · Motherhood

The dangers of crayons and refrigerators.

You know most kids are going to get hurt in life.  Despite how badly I want to wrap them in bubble wrap and duct tape, I can’t do that to my children.  Those acts tend to be frowned upon by the state authorities, as does hiding them in a closet or taping pillows to them and strapping on a helmet.  I’m sure I’d get a call from the authorities if my kids turned up to school like that, right?  These are important things to know, people.  If you question something you are doing, ask the authorities FIRST.  This is not one of those “better to ask forgiveness than permission” things.

Anyways, so no pillows and helmets or closets and bubble wrap…  sadly.   Therefore, my kids are going to get hurt doing normal things.  Like walking.  Which is, as I said, a normal thing.  Except in my world….  I didn’t have two daughters and a son.  Oh no…. I gave birth to Larry, Moe, and Curly.   Ergo, the injuries accrued in my house are NOT from falling from an apple tree or getting wacked by a stick by the neighbor’s kid, or even falling off a bike.  Oooooh Nooooo…  My kids have to make it look like slap stick comedy so that I am having a near impossible time fighting back the laugh while I’m holding them as they sob their little hearts out.

Sophie’s first, and so far only, broken bone, was caused by a crayon.   A crayon, people.  Granted she had really weak bones from nearly a year of prednisone and chemo, but standing up and stepping on a crayon and twisting your ankle wouldn’t cause anyone else’s kid’s leg to break, right?  It did with my kid. She had just learned to walk a few weeks prior and crawled everywhere for the next 5 months.  Granted, I didn’t laugh at this at the time, but looking back I can honestly say only my child could pull that off.

Since then she has managed to give herself a nose bleed with the back door (clear glass is clear… apparently), jam nearly every toe she has with the door to her room, and hand painted the plastic side of the crib in her own blood when she unhooked the alligator clamp on her port (port = the contraption they put in her where they hook up the chemotherapy and blood products and medications she had when she was sick.  I’m pretty sure the nurses in the next unit over heard my screams.  She was okay.  I, however, am scarred for life.  It was EVERWHERE and she was just giggling! She’s a sicko).

So I guess it should be no surprise that my son is following in her footsteps.  He is two years old, and officially has his first broken bone.  His little pinky toe.  Sophie has to go for the high drama large bone break.  My little boy goes for the tiniest bone in his body (excluding those in his ears). Here’s how he did this:

We have a bottom freezer type fridge, where the freezer consists of a drawer you pull out that is right above the tile floor.   The top of the fridge is one large door, rather than french doors.  My amazing little boy was in the kitchen with his daddy, who was holding his 10 month old sister at the time.  Dan was talking to Archer and Vivi and they were having a great conversation as he was doing something with Vivi at the sink.  Archer was tugging on the handle of the pull out freezer over and over and over, and finally managed to yank it out on top of his little foot, pinning his foot between the freezer door and the floor.  Apparently it didn’t hurt him so he didn’t cry out or warn Daniel about it or anything.   Right at that EXACT moment, my husband turned from the sink to the fridge and opened the fridge door.  He didn’t see Archer standing there, foot pinned by the drawer, because he was holding Vivi in his left arm and opening the door with his right hand (the door swings left).  So you can imagine what happened next.
Door opens.
BAM, right into Archer’s little head.
WHAM, Archer’s little butt hits the floor, foot STILL pinned under that freezer drawer.
~High pitched WAIL!!!!~
Yeah, Dan saw it immediately and put the baby down and got Archer up and loved on him for a second.  My little boy walked, albeit with a slight limp, into the living room, and sat down on the floor in front of me, holding his foot and crying.   When Dan explained it to me, I had to fight the laughter.   Dan took him to the ER, and he’s fine now, with a little purple toe and a slight limp (Cause they can’t really DO anything for a broken little pinky toe).

And so we have our first broken bone for Archer.

You have all been warned.  Your children might be normal and crayons and refrigerators are not going to cause them injuries in the same way that they injured my kids, but be warned.  If your kid is with or near my kid, or in the general vicinity of, or shoot… in the neighborhood with my kids, they could be a casualty.  Apparently my children are creative with their self-injury weapons.   And I wouldn’t trust them to not accidentally snag some unsuspecting innocent bystander into their little field of play.

Having said that, anyone out there wanna watch my kids?  I’m sure they’ll be no trouble.  They won’t climb any trees or fall off their bikes.   Of course, you have to put away all the crayons and keep them away from the kitchen.  Or just have a doctor on standby.  That might work too.

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