All right, cute story. Let me take you through a normal morning. Jocelyn will typically wake up anywhere between eight and nine. She plays quietly in her crib while I sleep. When she starts squawking, I wake up and pull her out, we have breakfast, yada, yada, yada.
This morning turns out to be not-so-typical. At nine-seventeen, I wake up. Everything is silent. Hmm, I think. Jocelyn should be up by now. Weird. I lay in bed a little longer, waiting for my body to wake up. I'm under the assumption she is still asleep. It has happened, but not often. Anyway, as I'm lying there, I hear a little voice. "Mommy?" it says. Hmm, I think again, that sounded really close. My ears must be working better than usual. The voice comes again. "Mommy?" I nearly sit up in bed in shock. That was right outside my door, I think. I look over to the door and there is a little hand clutching the side of the door. (Side note, I don't close my door at night.) I gasp, then laugh to myself. The little twerp climbed out of her crib! "Come in, Jocelyn," I say. She walks in, takes a few steps. The expression on her face is one of uncertainty, like she's afraid of being in trouble. I laugh again, out loud this time. This time, knowing Mommy isn't upset, she runs over and tells me, "Owie". "Owie," I repeat. "Where?" She pats the top of her head, says "Owie". I make sympathetic sounds as she moves her hand to her back and chest. I laugh for a third time and pull her up on my bed.
Now, let me tell you about her crib. It is one of those transition beds, where it goes from crib to toddler bed to something else (I never remember what the third stage is) and finally to twin size. The mattress is on the lowest setting, the bottom sitting about three or four inches above the ground. Add in about six inches for the depth of the mattress and you have the the approximate height of the floor to the top of the mattress. All right. The top of the front of the crib comes up to about her chin, maybe a little lower. And she climbed out. I'm not sure how the heck she did that. It was some feat of gymnastics, or as a friend of mine suggested, a feat of Zen/Jedi mind tricks or pole vaulting.
Of course, this isn't the first time she has attempted to climb out of her crib. The last time the mattress was on the highest setting and Thane moved the mattress down. Now, there is no place for the mattress to go. And this isn't the first time she has tried something, to 'Mommy', is scary. I won't enumerate them at this time but, I say it again-she has no fear.
I LOVE MY GIRL!!!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Hooray for Motherhood!!
Today was Daylight Savings, and almost true to form Thane and I forgot to set the clocks ahead. We woke up late, didn't realize it, got dressed, went to church and arrived twenty minutes before Sacrament ended. Mom and Dad Smith live ten minutes from us and have the late church time, so we decided to go there to partake of the Sacrament. Everything was going great until halfway through the service. Jocelyn was playing on pew when suddenly she fell forward into the corner of the hymnal holder --or whatever you call it...'Deirdre would know'. GASP!! HORROR!! One of a parent's worst nightmares! We carry her out, and as we pass the building library, one of the librarians very kindly offers a Band-Aid. Jocelyn is cleaned up, bandage firmly in place and the car speeds off to the Instacare. --For those of you who don't know, an Instacare is a clinic, MUCH less expensive than an ER.
After a brief call to Miya, whose advice is to get her in for a professional opinion, we do just that. I had been there last Monday for bronchitis and the receptionist remembered us from then-I was extremely impressed that she would remember us, especially after all the people she sees every day. She sat us down, took all our information and proceeded to introduce us to a MA and RN who took care of Jocelyn immediately, cleaning the wound and giving us something to numb the area to stop some of the pain. Again, I was very impressed with the attention and service we received.
About an hour later, it's amazing how many people don't want to wait/spend money at the ER, we were called back. The doctor walked in, looked at Jocelyn's wound and said, "It dosen't look that bad. My recommendation is to clean it and do nothing." I was sitting there thinking, Okay, I didn't think we overreacted. Mom said to bring her in.
As I'm puzzling over this, the doctor has started to clean Jocelyn's cut. "Oh," he says, "It's worse than I thought. The dried blood made it look better than it actually is."
Let me tell you, Jocelyn is a gem. She has spent an hour in the waiting room, coloring on a receipt with Thane's dress pencil --well, you know, the pen and pencil set he wears to church in his shirt pocket. She is very patient while the doctor cleans the cut again. Oh, my gosh. I just cannot believe the resilience and patience this child is displaying. She is my child, after all, but she had missed her nap and isn't angry with Daddy or Mommy or the doctor.
Anyway, the doctor says, "Looks like she's going to need stitches, just two, nothing major." He goes on to talk about superglue or bandages, but ultimately, he says, "Stitches would be the way to go." Okay, stitches. Okay, I can do this. Breathe, Megan, breathe.
The doctor gets the local anesthetic prepared, tells Thane to bring Jocelyn to the table. On goes the overhead light and Jocelyn begins to cry. The nurse holds Jocelyn's head while Thane takes her arms and legs. Mommy is sitting in the chair, her mind filled with 'horror' stories from my mother when I went to the hospital for stitches. I moved so much that I needed restraints and my mother fainted. Hoping to avoid these disasters, I stayed safely away. The doctor leaned over Jocelyn, needle in hand and began to apply the anesthetic. Jocelyn stopped crying. She had closed her eyes to the light and the needle didn't bother her. How do you spell W-O-W? The problem came when the doctor began to suture the wound. The dreaded light was back and there was no avoiding it. And, I believe- having been through it myself- she could feel the pressure on her head and thought it was hurting her.
When the torture was over and the poor girl was safely in Mommy's arms, she was all bright and smiles again. Of course, the sucker and stickers the nurse gave her didn't hurt-and promises of ice cream from Mommy.
As I told a friend, all's well that ends well. And now I know a small bit of the pain and torture my mother went through with myself.
After a brief call to Miya, whose advice is to get her in for a professional opinion, we do just that. I had been there last Monday for bronchitis and the receptionist remembered us from then-I was extremely impressed that she would remember us, especially after all the people she sees every day. She sat us down, took all our information and proceeded to introduce us to a MA and RN who took care of Jocelyn immediately, cleaning the wound and giving us something to numb the area to stop some of the pain. Again, I was very impressed with the attention and service we received.
About an hour later, it's amazing how many people don't want to wait/spend money at the ER, we were called back. The doctor walked in, looked at Jocelyn's wound and said, "It dosen't look that bad. My recommendation is to clean it and do nothing." I was sitting there thinking, Okay, I didn't think we overreacted. Mom said to bring her in.
As I'm puzzling over this, the doctor has started to clean Jocelyn's cut. "Oh," he says, "It's worse than I thought. The dried blood made it look better than it actually is."
Let me tell you, Jocelyn is a gem. She has spent an hour in the waiting room, coloring on a receipt with Thane's dress pencil --well, you know, the pen and pencil set he wears to church in his shirt pocket. She is very patient while the doctor cleans the cut again. Oh, my gosh. I just cannot believe the resilience and patience this child is displaying. She is my child, after all, but she had missed her nap and isn't angry with Daddy or Mommy or the doctor.
Anyway, the doctor says, "Looks like she's going to need stitches, just two, nothing major." He goes on to talk about superglue or bandages, but ultimately, he says, "Stitches would be the way to go." Okay, stitches. Okay, I can do this. Breathe, Megan, breathe.
The doctor gets the local anesthetic prepared, tells Thane to bring Jocelyn to the table. On goes the overhead light and Jocelyn begins to cry. The nurse holds Jocelyn's head while Thane takes her arms and legs. Mommy is sitting in the chair, her mind filled with 'horror' stories from my mother when I went to the hospital for stitches. I moved so much that I needed restraints and my mother fainted. Hoping to avoid these disasters, I stayed safely away. The doctor leaned over Jocelyn, needle in hand and began to apply the anesthetic. Jocelyn stopped crying. She had closed her eyes to the light and the needle didn't bother her. How do you spell W-O-W? The problem came when the doctor began to suture the wound. The dreaded light was back and there was no avoiding it. And, I believe- having been through it myself- she could feel the pressure on her head and thought it was hurting her.
When the torture was over and the poor girl was safely in Mommy's arms, she was all bright and smiles again. Of course, the sucker and stickers the nurse gave her didn't hurt-and promises of ice cream from Mommy.
As I told a friend, all's well that ends well. And now I know a small bit of the pain and torture my mother went through with myself.
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