Lindsay has always been my wild one. I knew from the first hour of her life we were in for it. You know how most babies are born, they cry for a few minutes, then settle down? Not Lindsay. Oh no. That child screamed for an HOUR.
Since then she has been a real handful. She's amazing too, so full of life and creativity. You know, the kind of creativity that will turn her into an awesome international jewel thief some day. (You think I'm kidding?) She climbs, runs, and can get past all "child-proof" devices known to man.
But back to the running.
No, wait. Go back to the day before the running. The day where I foolishly thought I could take a quick bath. The kids were absolutely slack jawed in front of some animated dvd, so I snuck upstairs and sat in the tub for a bit while the baby stood holding onto the tub and splashing water on me. It was relaxing and calm. Then, Ryan comes upstairs to find me. "Hey mom, me and Lindsay have a surprise for you!" "Oh really?" "Yeah, I made Lindsay look silly!"
My heart leaped into my throat and feet at the same time. (Nifty how it can do that, eh?) Lindsay came around the corner and I did a silent scream. You know, like the one from that painting. He cut her hair. All of it. Off. 6 weeks before her first day of school! And her hair grows so slowly it might take years to get it back below her shoulders! And it's all uneven and choppy! I was less than pleased. In fact, even now, a week later, I am still sad when I look at her.
Everybody has said it doesn't look that bad, but I am still upset. Here is the back before I evened it up:
Back to the running. The next day after the hair incident, it was evening and we were all sitting together watching some TV. Lindsay had some waffles cooking in the toaster as a snack. We heard them pop up, and she ran to the kitchen. (She really likes her Eggos) Then I heard a bang, and thud, and her scream. The kind of scream every parent recognizes, and runs. She was on her hands and knees in the kitchen and blood was pouring from her forehead. She had tripped over the mop that I hadn't put away yet and did a head dive into the kitchen table. Her head was split open. I dabbed it up to get a good look, and saw that white tissue stuff that means one thing: ER.
I dropped the boys off at the neighbor and took the girls with me. We signed in and found a seat. I knew we were in for a wait when I saw 2 other little kids with split open heads just sitting around. It was an hour before we were triaged. Then we went back out into the waiting room, and sat. And sat. At one point we went and raided the vending machines and had a feast of cheetos, doritos, cheez-its, powdered donuts, and milk. To give you an idea of how "well" the ER is run here: At one point a woman was brought in by ambulance, obviously very ill. She had an IV drip going. They put her in a wheelchair and wheeled her into the waiting room to sit and wait. And she even had to hold her own IV bag. Rock on!
6 hours after we had arrived, our name was finally called. The doctor decided the best thing was to glue it, as stitches would leave more scarring. So he washed it out and glued it, and Lindsay did very well through the whole thing.
Time arrived at the ER: 8:30 p.m.
Time arrived home: 4 a.m.
Lindsay yesterday after she got up (about 5 days after it happened, give or take):
If she wanted to change her appearance, I think some plastic surgery may have been easier.
Still the princess though, even with a banged up head and chopped off hair: