I'm bipolar. I blog about it. I also blog about sex, theology and atheology, funny shit and sad shit, books, music, feminism, and love. Mostly love.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

I busted a little kid's head today.

Okay, not really. As I mentioned, I was blessed to spend the whole day with Miss Kairyn Grace. First I made her biscuits for breakfast because Kayla had suggested it, and now that it was in Kairyn’s head, I didn’t want to say, “sorry girl, I don’t have much by way of logical thinking skills, so my anxiety says let’s eat cereal instead.”  Besides the fact she would have looked at me and said, “Dede, you’re crazy,” I couldn’t let the damn biscuits defeat me. So Kayla preheated the oven for me. That part was done and over with. One less thing to worry about. But when I put them in I forgot to change it to bake instead of preheat, so they took foreverrrrr to… (is that baking or cooking?). And I felt guilty making her wait for breakfast and allowing her mind to be poisoned by television that long. I’d already promised she could watch until breakfast was ready. And you don’t change rules when it comes to TV with these kids. I’d have had a mutiny on my hands.

Okay. So then I didn’t remember that I hadn’t actually ever turned the oven on. And I spent a panicked 5 minutes trying to figure out how to turn it off. Kairyn was patting my upper thigh because it was all she could reach in a comforting way. Finally I called Kayla to have her fix it, because heaven knows I couldn’t have done it on my own. And then I finally realized I’d never turned it on in the first place. AND in the process of trying to turn it off I’d reset the clock to be around 5 hours and 13 minutes off, and that the oven had an automatic light. It wasn’t bright because it was hot… just… because it was automatic. That was redundant, but I thought saying it again may help you realize how ridiculous of a person I am.

All that aside, I chatted with the chickie while she enjoyed the fruits of my labor (?), and she ate it with a fork. A fork? “Dede. Why did you give me a fork?” And I just looked at it for a minute, and then I looked at the biscuit. And I said, “I don’t know.” And we laughed and laughed because these may be our last minutes together that I actually remember before the brain damage from my seizure-head-injury totally wipes my memory and makes me crazy. (Looooooooooong story short, I had a seizure in dance class and got rushed to the ER because I hit my head. No broken neck, no concussion. I’m fine. But I like to blame all the stupid stuff I do on my brain damage.) That’s why I was laughing anyway. She was laughing because I gave her a fork to eat finger food.
And because it was pretty funny, I wanted to put it on Facebook, but all of a sudden, I couldn’t remember how to spell biscuit. And I wasn’t even getting close enough for Tonks (my iPhone) to give me any reasonable suggestions besides brisket. And because I talk out loud, Kairyn saw that I was struggling and frustratingly suggested I call her mother for the answer about 400 times before I finally remembered how to spell it. And then I was positive I was going to lose my mind. I’m never having a seizure and hitting my head again.

And then we were going to watch Totoro and color Disney Princesses as I’d failed to do yesterday. Damn it. But Totoro is on VCR. I’m not sure if it exists on DVD, but if it does, the person to buy it for me gets a free hug. I’d tried to watch Totoro with her the day before, but I couldn’t figure out how to get the VCR to work with their TV. And today it was going to work! I would not let it defeat me. Kairyn said, “Dede, it’s just a movie. We can just listen to Justin Bieber because that’s easier.” I think she was trying to be comforting again, as she will, but I was all, “I’ve got this Kairyn. Just give me a bit.” She rolled her eyes.

And then it worked! *Applause!* And she was genuinely excited because she loves that movie, and so do I. And when we got tired of coloring we just snuggled on the couch watching it together. And because I’m a big stinking hormonal train wreck lately, I cried when the girls found out their mom wasn’t coming home from the hospital yet. I also cried when we watched Bolt and when I listened to the Wicked soundtrack all the way through. That stuff will tear. You. up! Seriously. “Sure, I meant well -Well, look at what well-meant did. All right, enough; so be it. So be it, then. Let all Oz be agreed I'm wicked through and through. Since I cannot succeed Fiyero, saving you, I promise no good deed will I attempt to do again. Ever again.” Sheesh. Tell me that doesn’t make you want to sob. Okay, it doesn’t? Cool. Just me. (A side note. Spell Check tells me the ‘doesn’t’ in “doesn’t make you want to sob” is supposed to be don’t. So: Tell me that don’t make you want to sob.?? I would beg to differ Mr. Check.)

Cheese sticks are a perfectly acceptable meal for lunch... Right?

I got way off track. Anyway. So then we went to the park. And we swang/swinged/swung (IT WAS SWUNG, GRANDMA! TAKE THAT, YOU SLUT!) and it was whimsical. Really it was. And then she went on the merry-go-round thing with two other charming children who were really nice to her and they all had a great time. Then I busted a kid’s head open. Sort of. He was little and wanted to ride too, and I spun them, and all of a sudden he flew off into the gravel and started wailing uncontrollably. And the other kids are looking at me, horrified, like that poor child! Or more like they were afraid I was going to beat them, which is a disturbingly common reaction among kids in the event of a crisis. And after a really long time trying to calm him down long enough for me to ask the First Aid questions I’d never really gotten to ask before, his day care provider showed up.

And he had blood ALL over his head. But because I’m all certified, I knew that head wounds bleed like crazy, even if they’re not very severe, just because of where they are. Plus, the kid was wiping it all over the place and wiping is wet eyes, so then he had blood all over his face too. He looked like the survivor of a devastating car wreck, and he was crying like the only survivor in a car full of his immediate family. His day care lady freaked and called his mom, because apparently she didn’t know what the hell to do. The camp counselor in me was way more prepared for that shit than she was. She was actually kind of mad at the kid. Apparently he busts his head all the time, and the way she said he did it, made me feel like I was off the hook like, NOT MY FAULT, PEOPLE!  Now that knew people really thought that I was innocent, I could chillax. Because I was kind of afraid the 5, 6, and 7 year olds thought I had done it on purpose and the day care woman would judge me, even though she should have been watching him, not me.

So then Kairyn and I left because I was afraid to be there when the mom showed up. And we looked for Indian beads. Later we played a game where I threw pennies while she closed her eyes and then she looked for them—much like playing fetch with a puppy.
The end.


Yo Mamamamama said...

Very wonderful day with a charming little chicken. And Kairyn's not so bad, either :)xoxoxoxo Love, YO mamamamama

kyle gene said...

Gosh. <---- That is my one word response to this post.

But I'm not leaving a one word response, obviously.

This post is a lot more informal than your posts here on the window sill have been, definitely more reminiscent of the days of your train. It was largely entertaining and very much how you TALK, but that is just different from how you've been using this blog, I think.

Also, I'm pretty sure all threeee of us were having trouble with swing/swang/swung. Also, also, I know you are doing it jokingly but it was just two days ago you said you had a problem with girls calling other girls sluts. ;)

That spell check is something else...

This comment is becoming almost an entire response post. Oh well. It is what it is.

This particular post was kind of Blogess-eqsue, in a way. Yep.