Friday, August 10, 2012Go Team Antibiotics!
Life is happening at such a furious pace lately that things here are all discombobulated.
Man, I love that word.
Discombobulated.
ANYWAY! That's how it came to pass that I posted a photo of Alexis wearing a giant pink bandage on her arm without having explained how she earned that giant pink bandage. To explain that, I have to jump in the bloggy time machine and back up to last Friday.
I was in New York. When I left the kid, she was absolutely 100% intact and healthy and every bit as crazy as she always is. But, as I was sitting at BlogHer waiting for the next conference session to start, my phone rang. It was the husband and he had called to report that "the thing on Alexis' arm is all swollen and red."
"The thing" was in reference to a tiny little raised spot that had been just above the inside of her elbow for months and months and months. It look, basically, like a little zit. It was a tiny raised space that seemed harmless enough, but that I had made a mental note to have checked next time we were at the pediatrician's office. It was smaller than the tip of a nail. No big deal.
Except that "swollen and red" is kind of a big deal. The husband reported that it had grown HUGE he was going to try to pop it.
I wish I could see your face right now. I bet your jaw just dropped to the floor, exactly like mine did.
I told him to back away from the kid's arm and take her to the doctor. Because, well, if anybody is going to scar the kid for life by squeezing gunk out of a bump on her arm, it should be someone who gets paid to traumatize kids using their fancy college degrees. Long story short, he ended up taking her to the nearest urgent care place. They lanced it and drained it, which is fancy words for THEY MADE MY BABY CRY AND THERE WAS BLOOD.
Now, the child makes me want to smash my head through a wall sometimes with her toughness. Seriously, she's tough. If she says her ears are maybe bothering her a tiny bit, she'll have a severe double ear infection when I take her to the doctor. No joke. HOWEVER, and this is a very big HOWEVER, she is a total and complete wuss about things that shouldn't hurt. I seriously was considering calling a priest to perform an exorcism when she stepped on some weeds outside and we had to pull a splinter out of the bottom of her foot. She screamed and she screamed and she screamed.
So I wasn't there when a doctor cut her open and made her cry, but I do know it must have hurt like hell. She just doesn't complain about real pain. Imaginary, invisible, microscopic pain? Oh, she complains about that. A LOT. She only complains about real pain when she's near death, though.
Anyway, the doctor took a culture and sent it in and we started keeping an eye on the wound. As days went by, it didn't seem to be improving and when we got the call with the results, we had an explanation.
I'm not going to tell you what sort of cootie found its way into my kids blood stream because then one of you will Google it and will tell me all sorts of scary things in plain English in the comments. I already did the Google thing and nearly passed out dead from the two not-really-in-English lines I read about it. I DON'T NEED TO GET MORE FREAKED OUT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
But ... cooties. Not MRSA, thank goodness, but still. Cooties. There are cooties in her blood.
I found out about the confirmed cooties as Alexis and I were driving home from Kennywood. We had spent the entire day riding water rides, meaning I made good on my promise to get wet over and over and over for her amusement. (She was highly amused.) The husband called me with the results and dropped the little detail that the particular bacteria she encountered are spread via water.
We talked about her pool for a minute, but I pointed out that it couldn't be the source because she hasn't gone swimming in a few weeks. The timing doesn't work.
Then we went back and forth about the lake. She has gone swimming there a couple of times this summer, but then I realized it has been too long since we last made that trip as well.
And then I remembered that there was a water thing that fit in the window of opportunity for cootie proliferation.
Kennywood. She rode a water ride at Kennywood with a friend at about the right time for the cooties to get transferred.
I figured that out as water was still dripping from my hair, you guys. KENNYWOOD WATER.
I've taken three showers since then and Alexis has taken two. She's lucky I haven't made her swim in a pool filled with bleach, if we're being honest.
Big Time Lie
Sometimes a photo tells a story.
And sometimes a photo tells a very different story from reality.
The photo I'm about to post is a lie. It's a big, huge lie.
Let me start from the beginning ... When Giant Eagle invited Alexis and me to join a little group at the Big Time Rush concert last week, it included access to the sound check and a meet and greet session. Alexis was aware of this detail of the event and was VERY, VERY excited about it.
Until it came time for the actual sound check.
I don't know why, but the short person turned into a giant jerk during the sound check. She was flustered and embarrassed and I don't even know what because there were BOYS. CUTE BOYS. ON THE STAGE. RIGHT THERE.
She kept hiding her face and asking to leave and generally just being a party pooper. But, whatever. FINE. I'm accustomed to her shenanigans.
But when it came time for the Meet and Greet, I put on my Bossy Pants. Alexis was trying to flee the scene, but I grabbed hold of her hand and drug her into that line and made her march her way all the way up to the band. Somewhere along the way I was able to loosen my death grip because Alexis figured out that it was a pretty fantastic opportunity. She very nearly walked up to the band all by herself, but then Kendall (Shut up. It's totally normal that I know their names.) shattered that moment of willful participation.
"Hi there, cutie!" he said to Alexis.
Alexis looked like she had been smacked upside the head with an Awesome Stick. She turned a very bright shade of red, ducked her eyes, and started to try to run away. She tried to run away with a level of determination usually saved for bears and rabid coyotes and animals who have developed opposable thumbs and who are chasing after you with a knife.
I grabbed her pants and yanked her backwards. I AM SUCH A GREAT MOTHER.
So if it looks like she's trying to run away in this photo and if it looks like I'm clutching her belt loop so that she can't escape, that's because that's EXACTLY what was going on.
But, you know, if I didn't know the back story, I would just think it's a photo of a cute kid with a cute boy band and with her very dorky mother who has terrible posture.
