My “bad Monday” actually started on Sunday.
The towels were done “washing” and I had to toss them in the dryer. Only I couldn’t because they were still soaked with water and appeared to weigh more than my 80 pound 9-year-old. I attempted to “spin” them again through the machine … only it didn’t help.
The washing machine spinner spun itself to the ground.
Thankfully, the repair service answered the phone on a Sunday afternoon.
The repair man was expected to arrive on Monday.
In the weeeeee hours of the morning – and we are talking like 1 a.m. – the twins were both battling high fevers and requested water every 30 minutes.
Our bedroom went something like this:
“I was just up with them. It’s your turn.”
“No, I WAS just in THERE and now it’s your turn!”
“UGH, FINE, I will get up and you go next time!”
It went on and on like that most of the night.
I got my exercise in for the day!
Monday morning rolls around. The 9-year-old made it out the door with no problems. My 3-year-old son stayed in my bed most of the morning while my 3-year-old flutter bug went from room to room.
Repair man arrives and fixes the washing machine.
He then looks behind my head and reads the sign out loud – “Good Morning Let the Stress Begin!”
For a moment I thought he was referring to the amount of laundry that had accumulated in the past 12 hours in my utility room.
He then giggled to himself and said, “Yup, that’s how my mornings are.”
I wanted to smack him upside his smart-ass head. And then I wanted to tell him to give me his tool belt and directions for his next repair and he could stay in my house with my germ-infested-crabby-ass-sick-with-only-God-knows-what-children and that’d I’d see him around 5 p.m.
Instead, I just wrote the check and handed it over to him while smiling.
By 1:30 p.m. I am exhausted. Mind you, I didn’t really do much during my morning hours except shuttle between the rooms checking on the twins, listening to them whine and moan.
Around 2 p.m., as the twins relaxed, so did I. Eventually, they made their way into my territory on the couch. One was literally on top of me and the other was nestled under my arm.
It was a sweet moment.
But, it was only a moment.
My son decided he wanted to goof-around on the couch. I had nothing else to do, so I played along with him. He pretended to “ fall” off the couch and it was my job to hold out my hand that he would grab with his hand to pull himself up.
And then it happened.
I knew it as soon as his elbow bent.
Nurse Maid’s Elbow.
It’s the curse of my boys.
My oldest son had three cases of it – all involving trips to the ER or clinic for doctors to put the elbow back in place. It’s one of the most heart-breaking sounds any parent can hear – your child screaming for them to stop touching their arms.
Yet, once the elbow is back in place, all is well again and the screaming stops immediately.
I called the doctor immediately, knowing what happened. I may not have a medical degree, but I sure as hell know what Nurse Maid Elbow looks like.
We were set to see the doctor at 4:45 p.m. As I took him out of the house and placed him in the van, he screamed and cried and fought me.
By the time I got him out of van, HE WAS FINE!
So, for nearly two hours, he winced in pain and then when I am nearly 50 feet from the clinic doors, he is FINE.
Ah, but not all was lost you see.
Both twins have been fighting fevers lately, with red throats and this funky body rash that covers them from head to toe.
I thought it was strep. The doctor thought it was strep. My husband was the only skeptic.
IT WASN’T STREP!
It’s a virus that mimics strep – I didn’t even know such a thing existed until today – than again, I just have a degree in journalism, not medicine.
I am thankful the twins are fine … however, I don’t think I will be “fine” once I see this bill from the doctor!