Insanity Grows On You

A toddler with a wicked cold, a dog who needs a walk, three construction workers that need us out of the way, and a Mommy who didn’t drink enough coffee when she woke up.   That was the recipe we started off with this morning, when I decided it would be a good idea to make the guest room ready for the mass invasion of company coming for Christmas.  

It is very difficult to tuck in the fitted sheet when there’s a weimaraner on the bed trying to help.  

Then there was  Kenny next to the bed, holding tight to the back of my knees and  yelling, “Up!   Up!   Up!”  while rivers of snot ran out of his nose.  After the bed was made, I decided that it would look better against the other wall.   No problem: the bed was on wheels and the carpet in there is short.   I put Kenny on the bed for a ride, and kicked Dudley out the door.   Moments later I hear a gruff, “Hey!” followed by the unmistakable sounds of Dudley’s paws on the Pergo.   Kenny and I peeked out the bedroom to see Dudley flying through the house with a stack of ceramic tiles in his mouth.   With Kenny on my hip, I headed out in hot pursuit.   Dudley was actually laughing at me as I tried to catch him.

Once that fiasco subsided, Kenny and I returned to the guest room to finish what we started, this time with Dudley.   I left Kenny to play in the pile of pillows while I moved the bed the last inch.   For the thirty seconds my back was turned, Kenny obviously tripped on something and the crash and cry that followed nearly stopped my heart.   He managed to fall against the door hinge, and a nasty bump and cut swelled out like an egg on his temple.

Once that was cleaned and soothed, he was back to being the happy rascal, so we traipsed into the other guest room to make that bed.   Unfortunately, that room has become a dumping ground for everything that came out of the laundry room and bathroom for the renovation.   Not only is the washer and dryer in there, but all the cleaning supplies, the vacuum, two extra end tables, piles of towels and blankets, stacks of books and CDs and two baskets from underneath the old bathroom sink.   I realized soon enough that it was hardly safe to do anything in there with Kenny and Dudley at my heels, so I thought I’d take thrity seconds to throw in a load of laundry before heading out the door.  

Big mistake.   Kenny decided to use those thirty seconds to go through the bathroom baskets, and though I thought they were merely full of old nail polish bottles and hotel soap, there turned out to be an old razor in one.   Talk about making your heart stop: I closed the washing machine door to see Kenny with the business end of the razor in his mouth.   I screamed (a gut response) and he dropped it like a hot potato.   There was a single drop of blood on his perfect lower lip and I scooped him up, rushed upstairs and called the doctor.

Kenny thought my panic was funny, and started covering my face with kisses, saying,   “Ah, Mama!”

The Doc said that there is most likely nothing to worry about, as he’s up on his shots, and as the cut is so miniscule that I can no longer see it.   They told me “what to watch for” and I told them about an article I read in the checkout line at Safeway on the epidemic of staph infections in kids.   The doctor calmed me down and repeated what to look out for.

Kenny and Dudley and I spent the rest of the morning in a sterile, padded cave.

Not really, but if there had been one at my disposal, I probably would have.