I have learned to despise the first day of school because Scott is grumpy for days leading up to the start of a new school year. As if contending with one bad mood isn't enough, Robby becomes a never ending pit of "I want" and "I don't want that, I wanted the other thing" for the first few days after his Daddy's summer vacation ends. I feel like I am treading a minefield of raw emotions, simply trying to survive until everybody adjusts to the new schedule.
To make the transition more difficult, we always seem to confront some sort of emergency on the first day of school. It would be nice if Scott could simply come home from work, play with Robby and ease into the new schedule. Unfortunately, the universe seems to have other plans!
Two years ago Robby stuck a bead up his nose, necessitating his first trip to the emergency room for its extraction. Last year, we discovered a leak in the skylight in our bedroom. The steady stream of water by my bed prompted an emergency trip to Lowes, followed by several hours on the roof trying to remedy the situation.
I was optimistic that this year our bad luck streak would be broken. Robby slept in yesterday morning allowing me my first hour of solitude since June. I sipped my coffee and simply enjoyed the quiet.
Robby woke up in a surprisingly happy mood. With his feeling better, I was able to spend the morning cleaning the house and working on the seemingly insurmountable piles of laundry that had accumulated throughout the house. After lunch I whipped up a batch of bread dough in anticipation of dinner. I smiled, thinking of how inviting and comforting the house would smell as Scott returned from his first day.
I had just finished kneading the dough when I heard, "Momom, help me." Dropping the dough on the counter, I went running. Robby was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by glitter, glue, bits of green paper and a lot of bright red blood. The index finger on his left hand was gushing and his little safety scissors were still in his right hand.
Upon seeing a piece of his finger tip, unattached and lying in a bowl of glitter, I realized that we needed to go to the emergency room. I grabbed it and threw it in a cup of ice. I wrapped Robby's hand with a clean dishtowel and headed out the door. Our emergency room is only 10 minutes from our house, but that time felt like an eternity with Robby screaming in pain and terror in the backseat!
They began working on Robby as soon as we entered. He began to quiet down as the nurse took his vital signs. In an extraordinary calm voice, he explained that he was "using safety scissors but they didn't work because I still got hurt. I think they must be broken." I was impressed by his composure, and my heartbeat began to return to normal.
The skin that I had retrieved was not necessary. Since the tissue retrieved was only skin, it was not a candidate for reattachment. Of course, being covered in glitter and glue probably posed more of an infection risk outweighing benefit that would have been reaped. Thankfully, the bone was not affected and, other than having one slightly misshapen and flattened finger, Robby will be no worse for the wear. The bleeding was stopped and the wound was cleaned and sealed. As typical, I am sure that I was more traumatized by the event!
By the time we came home from the hospital I was exhausted, Robby was running high on adrenaline and pain medication, and my bread dough had expanded all over my kitchen counter. I went into my bedroom to change my clothes to discover, you guessed it, the leak in my bedroom had returned!
I had to dodge buckets (and rain drops) as I made my way to bed last night. Robby had a difficult night, constantly complaining that his "finger was out of breath." I tried to explain that his boo boo was throbbing, but he preferred his description.
Today we are headed to the pediatrician for a wound check and a tetanus shot. If the rain stops, Scott will have to go back onto the roof and caulk around the skylight (again). This is not the way I had hoped to begin a new school year, but it seems to be our tradition. Next September, I think I'm running away from home on the first day of school.