Tuesday, August 10, 2010


Yesterday started out a wonderful Monday in the summer. I woke up at 8:30am, which is extremely rare, and completely cleaned my kitchen. I managed to make myself both breakfast and coffee. Again, extremely rare. I checked my email, read some blogs, and spent some time with the kids. Then, at 10:30, feeling great about the week ahead, I put Kate in the stroller, the boys on bikes, and the next-door neighbors and us went down to our neighborhood park for free lunch and outdoor play. While there, I had some great mom-conversation with a friend, pushed the babies in the swings, and ran through the sprinklers. It was very hot, but the water, the shady tree, and the breeze made it the perfect summer day.

*Cue dramatic music*

Then, my precious, princess, love, heart, never-want-her-to-experience-anything-painful baby girl left the water area and headed back toward the playground. When she got to the black plastic baked-in-the-sun ramp she started screaming and crying... she had burned her little feet! I felt sorry for her, but when I saw the huge blisters I began to worry. I quickly loaded up the stroller, called to the boys, and power-walked the eight blocks home. She screamed the whole way. My heart was hurting for her, she was in so much pain... I sprayed her feet with Lanacaine and gave her Ibuprofen, held her feet up top the cold air, held her, prayed, did everything I could. She cried for an hour and a half before she finally fell asleep.

When she woke up she was calm. She sat with me on the recliner the rest of the day. She ate, and she didn't cry anymore. I thank God for helping with the pain. Here is a photo:

It's the next morning, and she seems fine. She walks funny, on her heals, the poor thing. But she isn't in pain. She's really cute and fun and independent, just like usual. The blisters are still there, but less so, and I'm sure she'll never even remember what happened once they heal completely.

I can't say the same for myself though.

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