Children’s fingers are predominantly cartilage at such a young age … That was the glorious good news that graced my motherly ears last week after Storm nearly broke three fingers. My heart, my constitution and my mommy-honors were put through the ringer last Monday morning.
I have a morning ritual when dropping off Master Thorin and Mistress Storm. Because I have 2 monsters, I mean lovely children, under the age of 5, dropping them off simultaneously on a very busy road, during rush hour, is a test of any mother’s wrangling abilities. So, I pull in, unclip Madam and let her sort herself out and climb through to the driver’s seat, picking up her bag off the front passenger seat, exiting the driver’s door, supposedly closing the door, and then going to stand at the front of the car with her hand on the round Geely logo. There she waits until I have unclipped Thorin from behind the Driver’s seat, slung his bag over my shoulder, him on the other hip, close his door, generally with the use of my fat posterior, before locking the door, taking Storm’s hand from the Geely logo and walking to greet the Guard, Benji, at the gate with high-5’s and then off to their respective classes.
Sound like fun, doesn’t it??? Oh did I forget to mention I also need to pack cookies in my pocket as a bribe to get them to actually stay at school? That is a whole other story 😛
On Monday last week our arrival goes according to plan. I had pulled a taxi stunt in front of the school. When traffic is stationery, my Geely becomes a blood great big 4×4 as I go bundu bashing along the gardens to get to the school parking area. On this day, I had done just that and caught the bottom of my car a little (okay a lot, a rather loud clunk and Thorin echoing a ‘Oh Oh’ from the back seat. Cheeky doesn’t even begin to describe him these days.) Anyways, I was a little bit rattled by the loud arrival at school, but ritual is ritual. I unclipped Storm, packed her bag ready on the passenger seat, took Thorin’s bag, slung his bag over my shoulder, opened his door, unclipped him. Told Storm to hurry up and close my door and head to the front. I picked Thorin up and slammed the door shut with my hip. You know that thing we do, because we don’t have a spare hand. You do the Country and Western step-slide with your butt to close the door. I did that and please forgive my cringe, but I just heard an almighty scream from behind me.
Storm had decided this particular morning, she would FAF. Faf is a family word for f*^k about … sorry, terrible description, but it is what it is. Its when children do anything to avoid having to do what they are supposed to do. For Storm, that meant, not taking her bag, not closing mommy’s drivers door, not going to the front of the car. Oh no, this meant, she would investigate the gap the open passenger door left, only visible from her height stood at the drivers seat. Let me be more specific, the gap that opens in the car door hinge when its open. Yes, you read that right, THE HINGE! Storm decided to stick her tiny, fragile little hands through the hinge of the car door, right at the moment her mother decided to Kung Fu the door.
I simultaneously dropped Thorin to a standing position, opened the passenger door and raised Storm to a hug. Then realized that this helps buggerall stood right next to a busy road. Thorin is confused and liable to bolt, so then raised him as well. Two bags, two kids, cookies and eardrum piercing screaming, I headed past the guard with not even a hello, flustered as to what the hell I do now?!?!
I dropped Storm on a beanbag in the foyer, ran Thorin to class and as I turn to make my way back to the front of the school, I hear Storm howling in pain. By this stage she has half the school staff catering to her. I phone Andre in near floods of tears, I am too broke to take her to the doc, he needs to help out (terrible mommy spent too much money on baking supplies). Anyway I rush to the NHC and storm in without an appointment, hoping to gain something from their kind hearts.
Bless their receptionist, who takes one look at me and says, “Morning Mrs Odendaal, how can I help”. Firsrly, Very good service on their part, secondly, I think she might be a stalker, thirdly, I think my face must have been a sight to behold. Rabbit in the headlights obviously has nothing on a mother who thinks she has just broken her child’s fingers.
Side note here … when this happened, That instance I got her hand out the door, there was a dark almost black grove that rand the width of her middle and ring fingers on her right hand, and while I know she has a crooked ring finger, it looked a lot more crooked than I recall. So black, unable to move, skew fingers, yeah, I was certain they were broken. Now back to my very helpful, stalker receptionist and the mommy rabbit in the headlights.
I begged for a doctor, any doctor. She checked who we normally see and I was adamant anyone will do. One phone call and she had chucked a patient out of our normal doctor, into another doctor’s office and we were ushered pretty much, straight through. The nurse who met us took one look at a shivering, sniffing Storm, who by this stage had stopped screaming blue murder, but wanted nothing from no one and was starting to come down of the adrenaline high and shaking like a leaf. By this stage she was able to move her fingers and I don’t know if it was simple circulation but even the dark black had faded to a dark pink. Then I heard those lovely words from the nurse. “Children’s fingers are predominantly cartilage at such a young age” … I must have looked the part, because I was instantly relieved.
The doc came through, by this stage the dark pink, was just off normal skin colour. Storm had wiped her tears away and her shaking had subsided. It had only been 10, maybe 15 minutes since this all began, but she was looking more and more like a normal kid and I was looking more and more like that bloody mother we all read about … the one who overreacts. I wanted the examination table to eat me whole … cause it became clear she was fine, nothing a bandage, an ice pack and a sucker didn’t fix. Lucky for Storm she even got a cheese burger for breakfast (don’t judge me, she loves them and she needed nommies before I could Nurofen her.)
Her hand barely bruised and while I certainly wouldn’t want any damage to my child’s gorgeous little hand, I kinda was hoping for some evidence of her ordeal … As I do kind of look like a drama queen. But I gained one thing for all the ‘kak en drama’ she is now as good as gold at drop off. She doesn’t argue at all. She climbs straight out, grabbing her bag, hesitant to close the door, but she does it ever so gently and waits at the Geely logo without me even having to ask. I am sure this phase will pass, but forgive me, if a part of me is grateful for the obedience. I have also learned to be uber careful before butt-slamming my car doors.