Momnesia

Single-Handedly Financing Augusta's Medical Community

Augusta, GA. - Spent yesterday laid up with a migraine. Because I spent most of the day in bed - Saturday gone bye-bye, dangit - I wasn't able to fall asleep until 1 a.m. Then, I was driven into Emmie's bed by Sir Snorz-a-Lot and the fact that Emmie, herself, was stretched out horizontally across our bed.

All of that converged when, sometime around 3 a.m., Emmie started shrieking. Shrieking like hot branding irons were being pressed into her flesh. Like someone said that she could never again have ice cream. Like all the unicorns had died.

"Must! Help! Baby!" That's the only thought that was in my head when I leapt out of her bed.

But my left leg was asleep, for some reason, and with its first step, landed on a page from a coloring book. My foot shot out from under me, lodged in the carpet, and kept going. I heard a snap! (and maybe a crackle! and pop!), lost control, and then my whole body hit the floor. Hard.

Emmie was still screaming.

"I'm - ow (expletive expletive expletive) - I'm coming, sweetie!"

SHRIEK! SCREAM! GENERAL FREAKING OUT! HOLY BOB THAT STUPID PIT BULL IS CHEWING ON HER FACE AGAIN!!!!

I race-crawl to the bedroom, around the toys and coloring detritus on her bedroom floor, because I cannot stand on a leg that is asleep. And because my jammy pants are too big, they begin to slide down my behind. I try to stand, but a shooting pain in my foot stops me, and I leap forward as I fall, like a running back trying to score that winning touchdown at the Super Bowl. Another pain as my elbow hits the floor.

"Emmie, stop!" I hear Scott snap from a deep sleep. I can see Emmie sitting up in bed, face upturned in a full-on howl.

"WHAT is going ON?!" I cry, as I make it into the doorway, panting, on elbows and knees. It seems like I had to battle all the minions of the underworld to get there, but it really took me less than 20 seconds.

"I hab a bad dream!" Emmie yells.

Are. You. Serious?!

I stop. I hurt a lot. I reassess the situation. My instinct, now that I am awake, is that there is no immediate danger. Just call me Sherlock Holmes.

"Emmie. Come here to me now." I command.

"Yes, mother," she says, and is instantly before me.

"Why were you screaming?"

"Because she's a diva," Scott says, from where he is still comfortably ensconced in the comforter.

"No! Because I hab a bad dream! I dream dat you were my muvver, but den you take off your face and you be'd a robot!" she says, indignant.

I collapse on my back on the floor. My elbow is fine. My leg is awake, and tingling wildly. But something is not right with my foot. I feel it in the dark, groan, and pull it up to my nearsighted eyes to examine it. The middle toe is broken. A lot. It careens off to the left at an angle that is highly unnatural. Now that I see it and understand, of course it begins to hurt like mad. On top of that, the adrenaline begins to subside and I find myself wracked with shivers, teeth chattering wildly. To add insult to my obvious injury, my jammy pants have slid down to mid-thigh. I am lying on the floor, in the hallway, shivering, butt exposed, with a very broken toe.

"Emmie." I say, in a voice that carries with it the full weight of God's law. "We do NOT scream like that. Mommy was VERY scared. I thought the doggie was biting you."

"Oh. I so sorry, mama. I jus' hab a bad dream."

(sigh)

"Mommy is not happy right now. Mommy hurt herself trying to rescue you. Because Mommy is an idiot," I explain as I feel where I hurt for injuries.

"You not a idiot, mama. You a hero!"

Yeah, I really feel like it.