Our “fun” outing the day after Christmas was to sit in gawd awful traffic on 3 freeways to arrive over an hour late to the pediatritian who informed us that Ten had received the unexpected and unpleasant gift of pneumonia. A weeks worth of serious antibiotics later and she’s doing fine.
I don’t know whether it’s been a side effect of the antibiotics, or Christmas letdown or what, but for the last week or so my child has been the biggest brat on the planet. We have seen temper tantrums like you expect to see out of early 2’s: kicking, thrashing, flailing, screaming, yelling, roaring, crying…all at the same time- and over God only knows what. Sometimes you know what the problem is: you have (selfishly) declined to put in a Dora / Backyardigans/ Elmo/ Barbie/Hello Kitty DVD, and declared that it’s Daddy’s turn to watch something on TV since you’ve just been subjected to 3 hours of continuous episodes of Little Bear and are now in a diabetic coma. (Like most 3 year olds, Tenley only believes in sharing when it benefits her) Sometimes you have no idea what has set her off. The war in Iraq? We’re out of marshmallows? The Earth’s axis is off by .000000001 degree?? What ever it is, you’ll never know because she’s so busy screaming that she can’t tell you what the problem is- you just put her in time out and listen to her thrash around for an hour or so (no, I’m not kidding). We have no idea what to do with her.
It was one of these tantrums that awakened me from my pre-work nap on the 29th. I was blissfully dozing, but knew that Ten & Jeff had come home because I heard the screaming before they hit the front porch. Jeff took her to The Pod and tried valiantly to shush her and calm her down. I was using my phone as an alarm clock so I texted him to find out what the issue was. He had no clue. So he brought her back to see me. No, lack of my presence wasn’t the issue either. But I offered to try to cuddle her & calm her down. Bad idea. As Jeff bent over the bed to hand her thrashing form to me, she threw her head back and screamed…and connected with my nose. There was a sickening crunch, I screamed, and then the blood started. Poor Jeff, he wasn’t sure what to do first: deal with the crying & now profusely bleeding wife or the hysterical child. I restrained Ten and sent him for ice.
The long and short of it? She broke my nose. As a broken nose goes, it’s not too bad. She connected low enough that although the nose is swollen & purple, I escaped getting the raccoon eyes.
So 2007 has officially ended with a broken nose, a healed heel, a cranky kid who is now wearing big girl panties full time, an unregistered car, and a stinky dog.
Bring on the 8.