...the tarnish, that is, on my Mother of the Year crown. I hate it when that happens.
Keeping in mind, as I've pointed out before, I'm on my third kid and I haven't killed one yet...I don't tend to panic. The school has its orders: Don't call me unless there is blood or exposed bone. "I feel like I'm going to throw up?" doesn't cut it...someone needs to be sprinkling sawdust on the floor before you pick up the phone and call ME. Crisis builds character. That and the embarrassment of throwing up in front of your peers.
Having said that, I sort of got a bye on these kids. My sister and I were sitting in a restaurant with all The Little Kids Friday night and I pointed out then...my kids don't have a doctor. They have the children's clinic everyone in this town goes to, but no one knows them there because THEY DON'T GET SICK. They show up for required vaccinations and they leave. That's pretty much it.
Yesterday morning, The Nice Kid was getting ready for school when she pointed out this little spot on her thigh and complained, "That hurts." Well, I've been married and birthing these people for 22 years and my first instinct was "OMG. You people are so ZITTY."
They are. The two of them have dark hair and white skin and they have zits. I never had a zit in my life and they are just...different. Zitty. I think it's a legal term.
So off she goes and when I picked her up from school...you guessed it. The little red dot was a golf-ball dot and her thigh hurt. We're in the drivethru at Taco Bell and I'm impatiently mothering. "Slide your pants down so I can see but HURRY UP before we get to the window." It wasn't good. It obviously wasn't a zit.
Have I mentioned that I HATE IT when that happens?
Brown recluse spider bite. And we don't have a doctor. Saving grace is a school parent who is a doctor and you better BELIEVE I started trying to track her down. NO PHONE BOOK IN MY CAR because the kids lost it. My parents' phone was OUT OF ORDER. I'm not making that up. My mother's cellphone just kept ringing. I called my sister who was on her way home from work and she pulled off the road to get HER phone book and find me the number. The doctor is "out." An emergency. I can go to her emergency clinic.
Oh, Jesus. Watch over my kid.
We finally made it to the clinic and Thank You Lord, our doctor friend was there. She took one look at the red place and went into action. They cut out a core. There is a drain in the wound.
This all happened...bite to cut...in a twelve hour period.
We've realized that, those floors I'm trying to get stained? That I moved all the furniture off of and have been cleaning? That spider was there first. Not bothering anyone or causing any trouble and just sitting there. And I came in all industrious and motivated and moved all the stuff and sprayed all the floors and just PISSED THAT SPIDER OFF.
As The Nice Kid pointed out: I should have just let those piles be. It's just dirt and dirt, unlike Brown Recluse Spiders, never killed anyone.