Over the weekend my daughter was not feeling good. It started Friday when she told me she had a toothache. I scrambled around trying to find a dentist to see her. But at the last minute on a Friday afternoon, good luck.
The soonest anyone could see her was Monday morning.
Now my daughter is a panicker. She sometimes has severe anxiety attacks over things like dentists and the like. She worked herself up into a frenzy over the idea of needing to go to the dentist. Which meant she was throwing up all over the place.
And when I say all over the place, I mean it. This one particularly lovely barf session involved her spewing baked potato and red Gatorade chunks all over the bathroom. It appeared as if she ran in there and hurled into the shower instead of the toilet. She was half asleep at the time, so that probably explains it.
It was the most god awful disgusting mess ever. I wanted to die.
And before that, she'd gotten sick all over the bathroom throw rugs (and everywhere else). And when I attempted to put the nasty shit in the washing machine, our new kitten started eating the barf off the rugs.
[someone just kill me]
But my daughter barely slept for two days, which meant she was walking around like a zombie. She was too quiet and lethargic for my tastes. But she said her tooth was better. It didn't hurt. And the entire reason she was sick was because of nerves.
So I told her she didn't have to go to the dentist. I'd cancel the appointment. I didn't know what else to do since that was making her hurl all over my house.
Sunday she was much, much better. She was her normal self. Panic gone. Barfing gone. Toothache gone. I was so relieved.
Then she got stung by a bee. Seriously God, WTF? Leave my daughter alone already!
She's not allergic or anything, so it wasn't a crisis. Other than it sucked and her foot swelled up and she couldn't walk very well.
She recovered though. Everything was good.
Then last night she was outside playing with one of her friends. And she comes running in the house all freaked out. And I noticed she's dripping blood all over the kitchen.
Perfect.
She wouldn't tell me what happened or let me see her hand (where the blood was coming from) I had to chase her around in order to see what was going on because she was freaking.
She ran into the bathroom before I could even comprehend what happened. I open the door and the entire place is splattered with blood. It looked like someone got murdered in there.
She had stabbed her finger with a bicycle spoke. And she decided to shake her hand violently all over the bathroom which caused blood to fling everywhere.
I finally grabbed her hand and forced her to let me look (and it looked horrible at first because her entire hand was covered in blood)
But I put pressure on it and wiped it off and it was just a little puncture mark. It wasn't near as horrifying as it appeared. We got it cleaned up and the bleeding stopped and I assured her that she wasn't going to the hospital like she feared.
Then she ran back out to play.
My bathroom looked like a crime scene. And my feet had blood on them, so I was making bloody footprints on the linoleum.
If a cop walked in at that moment, I'd be in jail right now. Blood splatter is hard to clean up too, in case you didn't know that.
If they spray CSI luminol in my bathroom, I think Grissom would haul my ass in for questioning.
But all is well now. Hopefully. I can't take anymore heart attack moments! I'm gonna die young if that happens.
So the moral of this story is, being a parent is scary. And not for the squeamish.
