With only 15 minutes until it's time to leave for Lola's MRI appointment, I decided to hop in the shower. Every mother knows that this time of bathing is sacred and usually scarred by screams from the beyond. Requests for food, or complaints about brothers who wont leave sisters alone. Or so and so called on the phone and even though I'm not supposed to answer your phone, I did, because I knew you wanted to talk to them, (even though you are in the shower and CAN'T).
Aparantly it's a lot to ask to be alone for a mere 5 minutes of cleansing. Especially when there is my babies' daddy working in the kitchen. Thankfully he was this time around.
Before I ran off to my room and my shower for my time, Azalea, hops past me on the broomstick saying "I'm a witch, I'm a witch!!" Fly on, little witch, I've got a deadline to meet. I carried on and let her go about her pre-Halloween routine.
My bathroom is is an interesting little addition off the back of our house. So is our bedroom. But the bathroom is even further tucked away, as it should be. But the combination of acoustics and duct work make it so that I can still hear most everything that goes on in the rest of the house, but no one can hear me or my responses to their many requests while I should be alone. Hmmm. Is that really just my bathroom, or simply the life of a mother. We hear and see all, but seem to go completely unnoticed by all others, especially those who need or want us.
So, I heard the screams, but I ignored them. This is my time I told myself. My time. Only five minutes. But the cry, though muffled I could still hear it. Elmer was there, if it was anything serious, he could address the issue. I need to be out the door in 10 minutes to Lola's appointment, which they mistakenly scheduled us for 715PM, as opposed to the 715AM we were told at least 5 times, including in the reminder phone call. We had already showed up 12 hours prior to wait for said appointment, only to be sent home.
But then the screams sort of stopped. Or I zoned out washing the conditioner out of my hair. And Lola walks into the bathroom, "Mom, Azalea knocked out another tooth."
Of course she freaking did. Of course she knocked out another tooth, because that is what happens around here. But I confirmed that Elmer was on it and I shortened my 5 minute shower to 3 minutes and got out, just as Azalea walks in. Her face covered in blood and holding a bloodstained rag to her mouth. Tears streaming down her face and deep gasping breaths to regain composure but only the signs of the cries remain. Not the actual noises.
"What happened, baby?" I ask her in my wet, towel covered body trying not to flash and then further scar my children.
"I wost ma woowf" Of course Azalea is at the age of loosing teeth, but none were currently loose.
As it turns out the magical witch riding her broomstick, can't actually fly. She can fall though, and did. She plummotted from her Nimbus 2000 onto the couch and the stick got caught between her face and the couch.
Her brother, Tigo, walks in to the bathroom. Slightly more phased than the others by my almost nudity and drops the bloody tooth onto the counter. Except this doesn't look like the type of tooth you normally see kids stick under their pillow for the tooth fairy. This one, while small, as it came from a small childs mouth, was extremely long. Not only did she knock the tooth out, but the ENTIRE ROOT came with it. The root that is twice as long as the tooth that we see outside the gums. There was no break in the tooth. I don't know if this accounts for strong bones, weak gums, or a crazy fall from a crazy girl. There is nothing delicate about my flower, Azalea.
Elmer now comes into the bathroom and we are all there with moments until we are supposedly needing to be out the door for Lola's MRI that they won't reschedule for us for another 3 weeks and this broken foot won't wait that long. Elmer gives her the look over. He checks to see if the bleeding has stopped, and the gushing has. Only a relative small amount of blood continues to flow from the gum. But wait, there's more.
Finally now with less blood we are able to see that there is a deep gash on the inside of her lip. She has a pretty significant cut, but mostly just on the inside, but large and painful, none the less. Here we come doctors office.
"Ok, Elmer. Are you taking Lola or Azalea?" Lola is easier, so....
I call our pediatrician's office who have stitched Azalea's chin up during late hours before. But this time they say they won't take anything on the lip. In case she needs a surgeon, she has to go to the ER. Heck, no, I'm not going to the ER. So with 15 minutes to 7pm, Elmer drives off to take Lola to her MRI and Tigo and I race Azalea to the Urgent Care, which you guessed it, closes at 7pm. And we get there by 6:59pm. But they won't take her either.
"Sorry, ma'am. We are filled to capacity and aren't taking anymore patients."
So off to the next pediatric urgent care. As we check in there, I tell them how it's her second tooth knocked out, and it happened while we were about to take her older sister to get an MRI for her broken foot.
She looked up at me for a minute, I think questioning if this was time to call child services. And said "What's going on in your house?" Tigo, oblivious to the intent of the question, pipes up and tells her that Lola had broken her foot in gymnastics. And then Azalea tells her that the first tooth happened when she got pushed by another kid when she was 3. For a moment I was having visions of not just medical bills but things I don't want to know about.
After weighing the different options of glueing her lip vs stitches in a very awkard location, we go for stitches after numbing her lip, cheek, gum with a nice vaso-constrictor. She sits through the first stitch nicely, but screams when she finds out there will be more.
Eventually, we are done. Child services are not called. Azalea is bandaged, and Lola has her MRI done. Apparently incorrectly. Stupid UNM. But that's another story.
And now I'm exhausted. But at least we can move forward from this one.