Busy Being Cultured

IMG_8545I got lazy and didn’t post for awhile, but I waited so long that something big happened and now I am totally going to blame that for my blog silence.

My youngest child got hurt.  I was right there.  We think we can control so much of our kids’ lives, be careful about who they play with, where they go, what they’re exposed to.  But when you’re right there when an accident happens, you realize that not so much is in your control.

We headed to the hospital where they decided to keep her in the hospital for several days for observation.  (This sounds more serious than it ended up being, but I’m glad everyone is erring on the cautious side.)

Here is where the fun began.  Let me preface this by saying that I am totally happy with the care she received and everyone was ultra nice, helpful and competent.  She was a trooper, too, and didn’t seem to mind her jail crib too badly as long as the “Pokers and Prodders” (as I know she labeled them in her little mind) left her alone.  I stayed with her in the hospital.  After four days (three nights) in the hospital for both of us, two ultrasounds, four x-rays, and meals, we paid a total of $20.

I’ll explain how this could be done so cheaply.  First of all, I wasn’t given a bed.  I pushed four chairs together and practiced being on the Amazing Race.  Secondly, I wasn’t given meals.  (It was like I wasn’t even there.  Ghost mom.)  My picky toddler actually eats only bread, bananas, and mixed food from a jar.  So my husband brought her food in and I ate the meals the hospital was providing for her.  Which turned out to be mixed food anyways.  (She still wouldn’t touch it.)  I had mashed potatoes and ground mystery meat for lunch each day.  Pink meat the first day – probably tuna.  Second day looked more like ground up scrambled eggs.  Third day pale white was probably chicken.  Oh, delicious.  I just pretended like I was doing research to see what it’s like to be a baby.  Then my favorite dinner: congealed pudding with vanilla wafers floating all in it.  Slightly soggy.  Not even going to comment on that one.

Another point of interest from my week at the hospital:

On my last night, around two in the morning, (I know this because I was laying on mismatched chairs.  Not really in a massively deep REM cycle there.)  someone snuck into the room and put a tray onto the little table.  I spent the next three hours pondering what in the WORLD the nurse could have needed to bring in the room in the middle of the night.  After three hours, pain medication for Evelyn was the only answer I could come up with, although at this point they’d declared that she didn’t need any.  So as soon as dawn broke, I finally rushed over to see what this mystery item was.

Are you ready?

A cup of tea.  For Evie.

Oh, cultures.  You just never get used to them.