We took the kids to "Walking with the Dinosaurs". I had to sell a kidney to scrape up the change to get our nosebleed seats, but that is the kind of mom I am. Turns out I sold the wrong kidney, but we'll get to that later.
My three year old son, Buddy, doesn't understand death, mortality or the consequences of being squished or eaten by large reptiles. My six year old daughter, Bug, has a very keen understanding of these concepts.
We arrive at the Schott, get amazingly good parking after driving into the wrong lot and interrupting what WAS a nice football scrimmage. I won't say who was driving, but it wasn't me. (I'm sure Paul Sorvino would have found the right parking lot the first time :-) )
Anyway, we get inside, show our printed tickets and are informed our nosebleeds are being upgraded. YAY!!!! We go up some escalators and find ourselves in club level seats, woo hoo! we're below the tree line! We put our oxygen masks away and settled in to enjoy our good fortune. I sat between Bug and Buddy, my husband, SuperG, sat on the other side of Buddy.
I knew that I would not be allowed to enjoy the show. I knew it when I went to the bathroom with Bug prior to rapelling down to our seats, and she screamed and cried because the dramatic "Dinosaur" music was playing in the bathroom.
A good parent would soothe their child and explain that this is just a cool show to entertain you and to teach you, in a fun way, about paleontology and science and cool crap like that.
I'm not a good parent.
I explained, as she tightened her strangle hold on my left arm, that in the previous 7 shows, no one had been eaten or squished yet. Being six, she caught right on "Yet? That means that it might still happen, it could be me!"
After about 45 seconds she lets out a huge breath. "I can't do it!" I said "yes you can, just don't move" With huge tears in her eyes, she wails out "my belly moves when I breathe, the dinosaur will see my belly moved and I'll be eaten" At this point the mom of two boys in front of us can no longer contain her laughter. She assures Bug that if the dinos come up our way, her 3 year old son will kick its butt and save her. The little boy turns around (and he's a normal sized three year old, not the lanky amazon children like mine) and assured Bug she was safe.
She didn't buy it.
Finally the show begins. Yes, all this hysteria happened BEFORE the show started. Do you see where this was going?
Oh Lord. Anyway she cried to go home, she suddenly had to pee. We had to get out, we were going to get eaten. On and on and on. Clearly, they were not real. But perhaps, since she is pretty much blind in one eye, she missed the tree trunk sized auto-magic bar that moved the big ones around the floor, or the legs of the guys running around in the small ones. Or that when they "fought" there was no blood, and it was more of a motorized robot ballet than an actual battle.
Oh well, just before intermission, when she's alternately fascinated or wailing about our mortal peril, I finally said "they aren't real" This entire time she really thought that I would bring her to a place where giant hungry lizards would eat all the people sitting in the seats. I would rather die quietly in my sleep, not inside the mouth of a sharp toothed reptile.
Anyway, after the big reveal, she calmed down, but not so much. When the T-Rex came out and did his obligatory roar into the crowed, she and I both jumped. But then it ended and I only lost 3 fingers due to the lack of circulation. When we go to Sesame Street Live, she can sit by her father, so he can have the blood supply cut off of HIS arm for two hours.
And what about Buddy, you ask? How did my three year old fare in all that? "oh cool!" and sat transfixed and excited the whole time.
We left the center and walked to our close and excellent parking space, as we were getting in the car, the tornado sirens went off. We looked around, calm, slight breeze, sunny skies. Eh, no big deal. But we are from Nebraska, we know tornadoes. The native Ohioans were running and screaming about in terror, as if the T-Rex came to life and was running amok in the parking lot.
We went to dinner. People were taking shelter under overpasses or in ditches. It wasn't even raining. No wall clouds, a few thunderheads, but really, it was a fast moving thunderstorm.
We went to TGI Fridays. Fairly decent food, it was empty (see the aforementioned tornado sirens) I had French onion soup and some chicken quesadillas. This would soon come back to haunt me.
Half way through the meal, I felt a horrifying pain in my left flank. Oh no, Mr. Kidney stone was displeased in some way.
It went away for a bit. Then returned, then went away. On and on. But I still ate my meal because other than some Everlasting Gobstoppers and a few pinches of cotton candy, I had not eaten all day.
We paid for our meal and left. Upon reaching the hulking minivan of death, the pain in my side came back with a vengeance. I'm sure this is what Harry Potter felt like when Voldemort was pissed off and his scar started to burn. The pain did not subside. It got worse and worse, I began to break out in a cold sweat, then terror hit.....I just paid for this food, I am not going to give it back!
We stopped at St. Anns hospital, as it was the closest one. I got back into a room fairly quickly. I left my stuff with SuperG and the kids, went to pee in a cup. It was the color of cherry Kool-Aid. Ominous sign number 798. And then it happened. Guacamole, sour cream, grilled onions, chicken, cheese and tortillas......all came back in that order.
I stagger back to my room, collapse on the bed, and wait. For an hour. Then the smartass Dr comes in "So you're having problems again huh?" Immediately I'm thinking "bitch". She taps on her laptop. "You know stones don't hurt unless they're moving. " Oh really? You're telling me this from what experience? Get your head out of your text book and listen to your patient!
She does not run a CAT scan on me because I've had too many of them in the last two years. (Too much radiation. The super powers are cool, but I'm sure the cancer I'll get from it will suck.) She orders fluids and pain meds. Another hour passes, I have my IV, finally the pain meds. By now I've thrown up, again. SuperG takes the kids home. They give me more drugs, the pain still has not subsided much, but I no longer have to puke and the headache is gone. The ER doc cum Kidney Stone Specialist has spoken with my Urologist's partner who said if we cannot get the pain under control to admit me. Ding!! Magic Words! Uh, yeah, I have no pain at all....buhbye!
Got home around 11pm. Woke up with a phenergan hang over, and the kids let us sleep until 9am! Holy Smokes!
Just another day here at the Home for Wayward Bassets. Four more days with this stupid kidney stone that isn't supposed to hurt me, then hopefully my urologist can break it up and pull it out. If any of you reading this ARE doctors, let me tell you, then CAN hurt even if they aren't passing out of the kidney. Trust me.
And after all of the terror, and fear, and begging to go home, Bug wants to go back and see the Dinosaurs.........
Oh, and as promised in a previous post, an e-mail about the time Buddy decided to become an electrical engineer.
Perhaps it was my well laid out plans that made my son decide to do what he did. I do not know for sure. I'm slowly but surely painting my home, for the better. Last night I finished another wall and went to bed around 1am. I was up at 6:45 to shower and then set up and fill the pool for the day. We had a lovely morning, all three kids in the pool, me pulling weeds and spreading mulch, ( I do think I washed my arms soon enough after finding the poison ivy...) Everyone came in, we got rid of the wet suits, Bug and Buddy ran around nekkid, I put Whitey (the kid I babysit) back in a diaper. They ate lunch au naturel, then went downstairs to play. I vacuumed then ran the carpet shampooer in front of the wall I finished painting, as I will be moving the couch there tomorrow. I had placed the needle nose pliers on the piano, and there were various other things all out of place in the living room as it is torn asunder while I paint and whatnot. I put Whitey down for his nap, then started to work. Buddy came in to talk to me, he was kind of tired, but he left, so I thought his went down to play with Bug. Soon he comes running into the office, with the needle nose pliers in his hand. "Mommy, there are colors in the living room" My first thought was "You colored on my wall??!?!?!!?" We go into the living room. Nothing seems wrong. I asked him again where the colors were. He pointed to the electrical outlet. I looked closer...one of the holes was black. I looked at him, completely dumbfounded, and starting to feel weak and sick. Then I said "did you put those in there?" He said "yes, and there were colors and fireworks in the living room." O.....M....G.... I sat down on the floor and he crawled onto my lap and started to cry, this completely forlorn and sad cry. "I want fireworks outside, not in the living room". I was scared to death. Bug came upstairs and we hugged his little naked self, she got me the phone and I called my pediatrician...for medical advice WTF???? clearly I was not thinking. I got him dressed and we talked more about what hurt on him, where, how he felt, how he was scared. He was rather listless and I laid down with him. His right hand, arm and shoulder hurt. His teeth hurt. He fell asleep laying with me and the nurse called back. I blurted everything out to her and she talked to the Dr and said to take him in and get him checked out. So I woke up Whitey, got Bug dressed, loaded everyone up and went to Children's Buddy didn't even wake up until we got there. He was a little tacychardic (sp?) and still out of sorts. Has a few loose teeth, but no burns or entrance or exit wounds. Since he was naked it was a good thing (even though he was standing on a wet carpet) chances are the snap on his pants would have burned him. They weren't sure, but thought that the rubber handles on the pliers might have helped keep his injuries to a minimum. The tip of the pliers melted. Holy freakin' cow. MELTED! We are going to see the pediatrician tomorrow. Tonight he complained of a headache and his teeth still hurt but his arm was better. What a day.