Saturday, July 15, 2006

Impromptu surgeries, and other excitements of the parenting life

There are a lot of things you find yourself doing, once you're a parent, that come out of the blue and force you to ask yourself the omnipresent question: How in the hell did they pull that one off?

They being the children, of course.

Today, we decided to splurge and stop by Wendy's for lunch before we made our week's shopping trip to the grocery. So we took the Tiny Car (it's a V-6 Chevy Malibu, it isn't that tiny, but it inherited the name from the Volkswagen.) It only seats five, of course, so the Deadly Trio was all pressed up against each other in the backseat.

Mere objected. Whether she objected to the trip itself, the choice of eating establishments, or the presence of her siblings, who knows. She decided to express her dissatisfaction with the arrangement, whatever it was, by grabbing Elsa's right ear and trying to tear her earring out.

Elsa was quietly crying in the backseat after this, and seemed to be in more pain than one would expect from just a pulled ear . . . so I asked her to show me the ear. Only to find that, in twisting the earring, her sister had actually pulled the emerald stud through the skin, into the earring hole itself. It was dripping blood from the swollen earlobe and the stud itself was not in sight.

So I carefully pushed the stud back out of the hole . . . ouch. Poor kid. Then once we got to Wendy's, Tony dragged the wicked ear-mutilator and her little brother off to order while Elsa and I went to the ladies' room to see what could be done.

No medical kit, no wipes, nothing in my tiny purse. All I could do was scrub my hands with hot water and soap and carefully remove the earring before rinsing the caked blood off her ear and neck.

Once we got home, of course, we cleaned it out with rubbing alcohol, numbed it with ice, and carefully inserted a French hook earring, to keep the hole open without aggravating the ruptured skin too much.

At least it was a reminder to find the first aid kit that belongs in my purse and put the first aid kit back into the truck. Hopefully Elsa's ear will heal up without more infection and without her losing the piercing. Mere . . . *sigh* . . . what can you say about Mere? We told her that it was a mean thing to do, hurting her sister, but it is like talking to a toddler. The pleasure of French fries undoubtedly erased the entire incident from her mind.

Now, if only it was that easy for me . . . .