EST

We spent last week in an empty house, sleeping on borrowed air mattresses.  I say “we,” but my husband was away on business – the last such obligation for the old job – so it was me and the three kids in a house pretty much devoid of belongings, save a couple of sippy cups.  To make matters more complicated, there was no school on Wednesday.  Too much of a wimp to face an entire day alone with three kids in a completely empty house, I took all three to Day Out With Thomas.  We had a blast.  I looked around for the t-shirt that said “I survived Day Out With Thomas alone with three small kids,” but I couldn’t find one.  Apparently, I’m the first to make it out alive.

Lilah felt it the most.  She’s at that age when she is exploring things, but there were no Things to explore.  Plus, Benjamin was alleviating his boredom by punching and sitting on her.  I tried to give him time-outs, but where the hell was I supposed to sit him?  In the middle of the living room floor?  I tried the empty closet.

“Close the door,” he commanded as I turned to walk away.

“No.  I am not going to shut you in the closet.”

“Why not?” he wanted to know.

“Because it’s dark and scary in the closet with the door closed.”

“Close the door,” he repeated.  I stood outside the closet as he opened and shut the door from inside, turning the only possible method of discipline into a game.  I guess at least he found something to entertain himself.

The airport hotel Friday night was only marginally better, mostly because J was there.  We were awfully relieved to get to the airport on Saturday.  We rushed through security and made a potty break.  While J went to buy the water we’d need for the flight, I had the boys play a running game that we do before every flight to get the wiggles out.  They did fine with running and touching a sign down the hall.  Then I told them to run around a group of chairs three times.  I forgot to give Benjamin the crucial instruction to look ahead of him while he ran.  Which is how, on the second go-round, he ran straight into the corner of a public telephone.

Head wounds bleed a lot, as we have discovered on several previous occasions with this child.  But we had 20 minutes before our flight.  The flight we were taking to move a family of five across the country.  If the child wasn’t vomiting and there were no bones sticking out, we were getting on the damned plane.  We scored a Band-Aid from the woman at the gate and figured we’d deal with it when we landed.

Five hours later, he had definitely bled through the Band-Aid.  My father-in-law bought us a new Band-Aid as we made our way towards baggage claim, while my mother-in-law emailed a plastic surgeon she knows.  Two hours later, we were in the ER, getting Benjamin’s head sewn back together by a top-notch plastic surgeon.

So, here we are – bunking with relatives while our stuff travels across the country and waiting for Benjamin’s head to heal.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.

23 responses to “EST

  1. Nothing says fun like moving the family to a new home in another city.

  2. Thomas + head trauma + moving a family of five= a great occasion for the hugest margarita you can find on the East Coast.
    Welcome home!

  3. No, no– people are supposed to visit the plastic surgeon BEFORE they move to Los Angeles…

    (Glad everybody survived the move more-or-less intact!)

  4. Aww. Glad the spunky little guy is okay, and I hope you get settled in quickly.

  5. Yes, moving WITH bloody head wounds is so much more entertaining isn’t it? My male child has… I believe… four scars on its head, only three of which I remember it acquiring and, yes, one was in an airport on a move. I particularly liked the judgy looks from the woman who seemed to think I had totally intended for my child to trip and launch itself into the metal trash can. Yes, lady, I just LOVE trying to cuddle a howling, bleeding toddler while wrangling two other kids – I do it for sport!

  6. Well at least you now know where the nearest hospital is. Good to know!

  7. Excuse me, I have to go rest for a while. I don’t know how you do it. I mean, I know how you do it. You do what needs to be done. I just don’t know how you do it AND keep your sense of humor.

  8. Yay! You survived! That is what really matters. I feel for you. Rather than stay in the house or hotel for a week, we chose to spend it in the CAR for 8 days. Oh, and the hotels too. It was awful. But this is not a competition! Glad it is over and hopefully you are soon reunited with your stuff.

  9. Oh man – you have too much fun. Here’s hoping your new house is calm and perfect.

  10. Glad to hear you made it.

  11. zoinks.

    thinks have to start to get better sooner, right?

  12. Oh my. I laughed out loud at the head injury, I did. And man oh man, dotcha know that karma is going to bite me big time for it?!?

    I’m glad you’re there… the first phase moving madness is over. Now the second phase can begin. I really hope it’s free to blood and hospitals. And at least relatively free of closet time outs.

  13. Oh no, head injuries DO bleed a lot. I’m glad you all made it there safe and sound, and I’m glad that Benjamin got some top-notch medical care. Although, I’m sorry it had to happen in the first place.

    I hope the rest of the move goes more smoothly for you.

  14. Oh, honey. You must be chugging Gaviscon like it’s whiskey on payday right about now.

    Seriously, I’m glad it’s almost done for you guys and I wish for a nice, quite winter for you all.

  15. Um, I wish you a *quiet* winter.

    Call me Butterfingers.

  16. Holy crap. You guys sure keep things interesting!

    I guess it’s not home until you have christened the ER.

  17. Aha! Another California refugee like us. It was nice to be there awhile, but the northeast has great advantages…like grandparents, for example.

  18. Oh, man, Emily. All you wanted was a simple cross-country flight with 3 small children without head trauma…

    I’m glad that you are there safe and sound. Or at least mostly safe and sound. And I’m glad your sense of humor is still intact.

  19. We were awfully relieved to get to the airport on Saturday.
    I think that statement sums it up. You KNOW it’s bad when you’re relieved to get to the airport – with 3 small children in tow. (And that level of bummer seems to apply to the aftermath as well.)

    Glad everyone’s all in one piece! 😉

  20. So glad you’re in this time zone. 🙂

  21. cross-country move and stitches all rolled up into one. ahhhh. nothing to say but hang in.

  22. There is always something to make it extra exciting, eh?

    Glad you made it. I hope the transition is a good one.

  23. A little blood sacrifice to the Eumenides for safe passage? You guys are so clever.