This morning I woke up much to my dismay. Just kidding, I say that every day. It was actually one of those mornings I have scorching, passionate, unbridled fantasies about. The girls woke up on their own, in their own beds, dressed themselves and were in pleasant moods. I had made lunches the night before. I was not out of cream for my coffee. The dogs did not run away when I opened the door to let them out. No one told me they hated me. We were going to be on time and I had not raised my voice even once.
Our fireplace has been broken most of winter and with summer right around the corner, I needed to get it fixed ASAP. I called the fireplace repair guy and told him to let himself in. The front door would be unlocked and I would be right back once I dropped the little darlings off at school. I was just thinking that maybe just maybe I could cut down on my dosage of anti-anxiety medication when it happened….
My daughter got a bloody nose. Not just any bloody nose but a gushing, could not stop it, torrential down pour of red current pouring from her nostrils and mouth. Recalling my first aid training, I immediately panicked, yelled “OH SHIT”, grabbed a dirty t-shirt off the floor, put a tourniquet on her ankle and leaned over her to apply CPR. She proceeded to soak 5 washcloths. I yelled for for my other daughter to call Mike and ask him what to do. She covered the receiver and relayed back to me “Dad says she needs those things that go in your vagina when you pee blood!”
Copy that. I ran upstairs, rummaged around, tossed the wrappers on the floor and held them up to her tiny, little nostrils that are not even close to the size of a vagina and I buy the average size thank-you-very-much. I snatched the phone and called my dearest friend, AKA: the school nurse, who is next in line to God due to her copious abilities to handle any and every disgusting situation without showing even the slightest ion of emotion. I love that in a woman.
Now armed with legitimate instruction, I followed her advice with precision. However, my kid still managed to swallow, subsequently barf and splatter blood all over me and my cream colored walls. I felt dizzy because the only thing I hate worse than my child bleeding for no apparent reason is cilantro. FINALLY, after squeezing her nose shut and putting ice on it for about 30 minutes, it stopped. I changed her shirt and wiped her down. I shakily took both kids to school an hour late and remembered the fireplace guy was coming.
I sort of laughed thinking of the poor, unsuspecting guy walking into my family room only to discover what looked like a crime scene with blood smeared everywhere, soaked washcloths/clothing, tampons strewn about and a Tupperware container full of bloody spit. Yep. I could pretty much guarantee my house was already surrounded by cops, fire trucks, ambulances, Mike had been notified, my mom was hysterical etc. etc. Fuckity fuck.
However, he was conveniently running late which was probably a good thing if he had a weak ticker. I cleaned up the carnage and poured a cup of coffee. I reached down to pick up my dog only to discover that her eye was oozing pus because somewhere between last night and this morning she had developed some sort of ghastly infection to further castigate me for my sin of existence. I laid my forehead on the table. Then the nurse called because my kid threw up. XO