I mentioned yesterday that Reagan broke her arm Friday night. It was a very interesting end to a pretty interesting day. After returning from strawberry picking, which included almost running out of gas and finding out our next possible city of residence, we prepared for our Pity Party. We had invited neighbors over for an evening of grilling and chilling where everyone could jokingly commiserate with us since we’re one of the few families who still don’t know (officially) where they’re moving to next.
We set up our grill out front and had a nice relaxing evening with some friends. Don’t let the fact that our grill was out in the driveway affect your opinion of us…we’re in the south. We do it the southern way. We have a nice, big, beautiful backyard; everyone does in this neighborhood, but we all seem to congregate in front yards. I should have had Ashlyn out in nothing but a diaper; that would have truly completed the WT picture. No, what truly completed that picture was Reagan running down to the sidewalk to chase and catch grasshoppers.
She was playing peacefully by herself when all of the sudden a brown spider with yellow stripes on its legs (her words) jumped at her threatening to maim and dismember her (my words). She turned to run from it, took only several steps and fell hard…knee, right arm, chin…kind of a rolling motion. Du ran over to check on her; she was squealing pretty loudly. We, however, don’t really know when the squeal represents real pain or perceived pain so he tried to calm her down and took her inside to assess the situation. By this time it was already close to her bedtime and she was saying she was tired so he put her to bed. We didn’t need a cranky kid interrupting our awesome WT Pity Party anyway.
Later that night we heard her crying from her bedroom. She was afraid the cats, who were jumping up onto her bed, were going to touch her arm. She normally loves to have the cats bunk with her so we knew something wasn’t quite right. After checking the arm we could tell it was swollen slightly and was definitely tender to the touch. The loving mother that I am, I decided to solve the situation by taking her to the emergency room. If it wasn’t broken then she’d learn her lesson (the lesson of overreacting to smallish situations) by being scared out of her wits through the ER experience. If it was broken, well, then we needed to be there anyway.
Upon leaving the house I smiled inwardly to myself, congratulating myself that we were heading to the ER before all the drunk idiots had a chance to injure themselves on a Friday night. It was 10:30pm. We checked in at 10:45. We weren’t called back until 1 freaking 20 in the morning. I guess all the drunk idiots get started early in Montgomery. Probably in their driveways, grilling. Oh, by the way, I am in no way implying there was imbibing going on here. There was no drunken neglect of our children. We are not that WT.
I need to wrap this up. After a five hour ER visit we found out her arm was indeed broken. At this point I was super proud of Reagan because she was completely calm and collected throughout the whole ER experience, even when the doctors were poking and prodding and twisting her arm around. We couldn’t get the cast on until Monday…and that’s a story I could only cuss to tell. Our appointment was at 1:00 and we weren’t seen until 3:00. Livid. That’s all I can say.
Reagan got her choice of colors for her cast. I think everyone that knew her thought she’d go for hot pink. I would have. No, she chose red:
And this is the only picture I’ve gotten of it so far. Aren’t they the cutest! The old me would have had her pose outside, inside, out back, pretending to dunk it in the tub, pretending to do a headstand. Now? I catch her climbing out of the truck before life speeds by at 90 to nothing. We have no idea how long she’ll have to keep it on. We go back in two weeks for them to x-ray it to see how the bone is healing. Please pray that it’s healing correctly. She’s having to miss her last two swimming lessons, and the YMCA is graciously allowing her to make those up once the cast comes off. She’s also not going to be able to perform the gymnastics and baton portion of her recital this Saturday. She’ll still be able to do the jazz and tap though. She’ll be the one everyone will notice (proud, dance mother moment here. Wait, I am NOT a dance mom).
P.S. The moral of the story is don’t grill in your front yard. Grill out back with the grass. That way when your kid decides to chase and run from bugs s/he will not break a bone on the pesky cement.