Well, I unintentionally caused some family strife yesterday. I mean, my decision was fully intentional, I just didn’t mean for it to become a fiasco.

In the midst of all the stress of yesterday, I chose not to tell my parents about Button’s fall until today. My mother has a tendency to freak out about things like that, especially when she is removed from the situation and feels helpless. I knew she wouldn’t get to see Button until today, so I chose to keep her in the dark because I know she would go crazy worrying. I didn’t want her at the doctor or at my house yesterday because Button just needed some quiet downtime to sleep.

Unfortunately, my plan backfired. While we were at the doctor’s my Sis-in-law called the house and the housekeeper answered the phone and told her what was going on. Naturally, she told my brother. Who told my mom.

And yes, she did freak out. To the point where she had to sit down and calm herself before she could pick up the phone. She was hurt beyond belief that I didn’t tell her myself immediately. By the time my dad got the story, Button had cracked her head open and had a concussion and a black eye and had to be life-flighted to Children’s Medical.

My dad called, completely worried, and questioned us about everything - did we check her pupils? Did we look for lumps? Did the doctor see her? He also told us that Mom was totally offended because she thinks we don’t trust her ability to handle the situation.

WELL NO SHIT.

Pardon my French. (By the way, Spell Check doesn’t recognize the word “shit” - I don’t know why, but that amuses me)

Frankly, I just didn’t have the energy to deal with her yesterday in addition to all the stress I was already under. I was so exhausted from the ordeal that I fell asleep while playing with Button on the floor. I didn’t need her telling me how concerned she was that Button wasn’t getting proper care and was being neglected.

Nor did I need my mother in law suspecting that this was no accident, and that our nanny is really a child abuser. Fortunately, that one got filtered through J.

Mom showed up today fully expecting Button’s face to be black and blue with dried blood in her hair. She did calm down once she saw that her baby wasn’t mortally wounded or brain damaged. But I did receive one of those emails this morning, in which she expressed her concern about negligence and Button’s health. Usually J’s mom is the one that sends the dreaded email, but not today.

I’m relatively short-tempered today, so she got a Corporate Blow-Off for a reply. The cold and distant “Thank you for your opinion, we will keep that in mind” message that really means “I just permanently deleted your email.”

I guess you could say I’m indignant. That would be a true statement, I suppose. There are just some things that are NOT HELPFUL and just add extra stress and it bugs me when people act like that after the fact. Where was all the helpful advice BEFORE this happened. What, Mom? You didn’t see it coming either???

Well imagine that.

I can’t sleep. I know, it’s not exactly 2am or anything, but I usually revel in the ability to go to bed early. I have always had a talent for being able to sleep anytime, anywhere.

But for the past two nights, I have been unable to turn off my restless mind. I sound like a Lunesta commercial. Last night it was well into the night/early morning before I got any sleep.

Probably just leftover frustration/stress from the past days experiences, but it still irritates me. I may be able to explain it but I can’t control it. I guess that’s my problem.

And lack of sleep doesn’t exactly help the stress/frustration problem either.

My cat is trying to comfort me by digging his claws into my leg.

How sweet.

One of the problems with being a working mother is those damn phone calls. The kind that stop your heart.

“Hey, it’s me. We have…a problem.” Meanwhile, I hear Button screaming in the background.

You can strap the baby in the bouncer, but you cannot strap the bouncer to the counter top, and hers had fallen off with her in it.

This particular bouncer has a very sticky rubber bottom, so sticky that I can’t even move it when I try to wiggle it on the counter. So nobody’s sure how, in a split second while the nanny turned her back to put the bottle in the warmer, the bouncer tumbled off the counter onto the floor. The only thing we can figure is that maybe one of the base corners wasn’t all the way on the counter.

Anyway, I was relieved to hear Button crying, because at least that meant she was conscious. I grabbed my purse and headed home. Then came the next phone call.

“I’m having a hard time keeping her awake. Button. Button, wake up, sweetie. BUTTON. I’m trying to keep her awake in case she has a concussion or . But her eyes keep closing. Button, WAKE UP HONEY. YOU HAVE TO STAY AWAKE”

I drove up to the front and we piled Button into the car, with the Nanny in the back seat to keep her awake as long as possible. She succeeded until about 5 minutes before we reached the doctor’s office.

During the visit, Button was virtually inconsolable. The only time she stopped crying was when I held her tight and let her bury her head in my neck. But of course, that isn’t too conducive to doctor examinations or x-rays, so she was in hysterics during much of the visit, as well as the subsequent trip to the diagnostic center.

The x-rays were negative for signs of fracture or trauma, so we’re home now. She finally took a bottle (for the first time in 7 hours) and went down for a nap. She’s been asleep for an hour, but I have to wake her up every 15 minutes to make sure there aren’t any signs of head-injury-induced-oversleeping. She’s exhausted and if I know her, she’ll be asleep for much of the rest of the day.

Wish I could be too.

She has a nice bruise developing on her cheek, but it doesn’t appear that she hit her head anywhere else – at least, the doctor couldn’t find any additional lumps or indication of injury.

So if we don’t see anything unusual in the next 48 hours, we can assume everything’s . And breathe a huge sigh of relief.

Dear Child Protection Services:

My name is Little Button and today I was tortured and abused in my own house by my own mother. When I woke up significantly early this morning (due to difficulty breathing), she pulled me out of bed and carried me downstairs, where she repeatedly forced a dropper full of some absolutely appalling chemical concoction down my throat. Despite my energetic resistance, she managed this assault not 1, not 2, but THREE times, each when I was least expecting it. This attack was completely and utterly unprovoked.

When she had finished this blitzkrieg, she proceeded to ambush my face with a wet cloth in an effort to remove the green crust that I had spent the entire night accumulating in a thick layer around my nose. I screamed and cried out for help, but to no avail. When she had satisfied her sadistic tendencies with my face, she then moved on to my hands with a baby wipe.

At this point, I coughed up a huge loogie and half the medicine she had given me all over the place, and sneezed several more drippy boogers out just for effect. But she would not be deterred. She picked up the box of tissues and began wiping my nose and face until I thought I was surely going to die.

I did get one moment of consolation. Shortly after being placed into my rocking swing, I barfed up all my breakfast and as much medicine as possible, all over myself and the swing. I must admit that I did enjoy playing with the rubber ducky in the bath that followed. But that still does not remedy the situation. I need you at once to send some of your personnel out here and -

Dear Child Protective Services - as Button’s Mom, I have been forced to finish this correspondence as the Benadryl has taken its effect and she has succumbed to slumber for the first time in several hours. However, since she can only breath when sitting upright, and has succeeded in soiling her rocking swing, I am holding her in my other arm as I type. Should you wish to send some of your personnel out here to take over the baby-holding shift for an hour or two, Please. Be. My. Guest.

* * *

Dear Pediatrician,

Thank you for your suggestions to my husband yesterday regarding living through the next few days with a sick baby.

We have initiated the Benadryl treatment and, though the application of said treatment can be hazardous, it does seem to be providing some relief. Namely in the form of sleep, which we could all use.

We regret to inform you, however, that we will be unable to carry out the squirting of saline solution up my daughter’s nose, and then the removal of such solution via the bulb-sucker-thingie. Unfortunately, you neglected to provide us with a prescription for the amount of Valium that would be required to sedate an active and unhappy baby to the point that she would consider allowing us to squirt water up her nose.

With best regards,
SMIT

* * *

Dear Bayer Company,

First, I would like to mention my disappointment with the recent discovery of your misrepresentation in advertising regarding your Flintstones Vitamins WITH IRON. But that really isn’t the point of this letter.

I am writing to ask your consideration in making a vitamin for parents of sick children. With the amount of children I see at the doctor’s office every time I go, I guarantee you would have no difficulty finding a profitable market for this product.

It should, of course, be chocolate flavored for therapeutic relief. I would also suggest including caffeine for all those late nights, early mornings and sleepless in-betweens. Steroids would be a good additive so that said parents could continue to hold their children upright through the entire night.

And you might want to throw in a little marijuana just for good measure.

I look forward to your development of such a product and appreciate your quick response.

Sincerely,
SMIT

This probably should have made it into the 6 weird things post, but I hate swallowing pills. It’s not that I’m afraid of them, or that I CAN’T swallow them. I just don’t like it.

Consequently, I take two chewable Flintstones vitamins every morning.

I’m also anemic. So when I was roaming the vitamins aisle yesterday and saw “Flintstones Vitamins: WITH IRON,” I immediately picked up a couple of bottles. See, in addition to hating pill-swallowing, I also have a daily maximum of pills, medicines and vitamins that I can convince myself to take (I know, I’m starting to sound like a real mental case). That daily limit right now has reached capacity with my Flintstones and birth control, so for whatever reason, taking my iron pills just doesn’t happen.

When I got home, I compared the new Iron chewables with the regular vitamins I had previously been taking (you know, I didn’t want to overdose on iron or anything) and found much to my shock and horror that Flintstones WITH IRON actually have LESS iron than the regular Flintstones I had been taking.

J says I have fallen victim to a marketing scheme. I say I have been lied to and now I am vexed. And the fact that they have added a new flavor (Wilma now comes in blueberry) makes no advance in my consolation.