02 February 2010

My Little Pew Monkey

Have you ever had one of those days as a parent where you feel like the best parent in the world? The kids do everything you ask, they don't fight and all is well.

Today was NOT one of those days. In fact, it feels like the exact opposite. Today kinda made me feel like, well, NOT the best parent in the world... The biggest of today's challenges started on Sunday. I know it sounds weird, but as Ricky Ricardo says, "I got some 'splainin' to do!"

Sunday was a fairly normal day, or so it seemed. We had our usual routine in the morning and headed out to church. During sacrament meeting the kids were restless and buggy. We had to take turns wrangling the munchkins. As the meeting ended we started to head toward our usual duties and distractedly gathered our things.

And then it happened.

The 1/1000th of a second that neither mom or dad was watching, Henry decided the floor looked like a tempting place to be and tumbled off the pew. We both reacted to the instantaneous crying and picked the poor little pew monkey off the floor and cuddled him til he stopped crying.

Momma took him with her, and little was thought of it until later in the day when she called me saying he wouldn't crawl. At first we thought it was one of his legs because he'd get on his hands and knees, kick one of his legs back and scream.

Then, yesterday momma noticed that it wasn't his leg, but his hand. She'd move it around and our monkey howled as loud as the day is long. We didn't think it was that bad because other than when we touched his hand, he was fairly happy.

Today was his 9 month well visit to the doctor. He got two shots and a prick to his big toe, along with the misery he was already in. We mentioned his arm and, at the end of the visit, the doctor sent us to get some x-rays for precaution. We got into the lab and the tech had to hold the poor little guy in her lap and stretch his hand out.

I still shudder thinking about him screaming like that.

As soon as the picture showed up on the screen (digital x-rays are cool, btw...) I saw it. It was confirmed by the Doctors. He has a "Nondisplaced buckle fracture of the distal radial matediaphysis".
In other words, he broke his arm on Sunday and we didn't do a damn thing about it because he's fallen before, and he is so happy a kid that he was already getting around doing a half army crawl to avoid putting pressure on his wrist. I know I can't beat myself up for not doing something earlier, but I still feel like an ass.

Anyway, check-up was at 3pm and by 6pm our poor little pew monkey had a little blue cast on his arm that he has already learned to use as a club.
The doc says to come back in 4 weeks if the thing is still on by then. (He said he hopes it takes more than two for him to get it off himself... interesting.)

So, our little man got beat up pretty well this week, and it's only Tuesday.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

OH POOR HENRY! That is so sad!

I know how you feel...we used to accidentally pop Joshua's arm out of socket all the time, and he would have to wear a sling. It makes you feel like a rotten parent, even though it was all accidental!

But, at least Henry will have a great story to tell people! You should have everyone sign it and keep it!

Trillium said...

Every parent at some time or other has or will make a mistake in judging how serious an injury might be. I still shudder thinking about some of my many misteps. Thank goodness that children are so resilient.

One of Seven said...

Breaks his arm, can't crawl like usual, compensates with a commando crawl, put a cast on it and then its... "cool I got a weapon!"
Sounds like a kid I used to know. One I used to pull his teeth back through his lip, then check them to see how loose they were. Then later in life continued with cutting shrapnel out with a knife from his leg up under his skirt, I mean shorts.

Unknown said...

oh man! I thought I felt bad when I accidentally clipped one of my kids fingertips. Poor Henry! Poor Mom and Dad!

Jen said...

Poor baby!! It reminds me of Ethan's boo boo at 6 months . . . on Christmas Eve . . . at the emergency room. Not fun.