As I look out my window and wonder whether the next plague will be locusts or frogs, I'm half-way counting my blessings.
After dealing with Trot and his MRSA and Rakes and the killer allergies, I halfway thought we were out of the woods; I should have remembered these things come in threes.
Since the economy went in the toilet, I've been working part time on Saturdays to try and make a little extra money, with the only problem being Rakes and Ciera have practice/games in their respective sports leagues. I've snuck away for some, missed others, and have always caught the last hour and a half of Ciera's softball practice.
Tonight, we had customers in and I couldn't leave until 6, so I arrived at her practice with just a few minutes to spare. She'd been working with one of the coaches on catching pop fly's and couldn't wait to show me how she'd improved.
2 minutes later she completely missed a ball, it bounced off her face with a sick thud, and I vaulted the dugout fence like I was Carl Lewis going for the gold medal. Blood streaming everywhere, I'm pretty sure I dropped a few choice curse words but I can't be sure.
Bottom line? Her permanent front tooth on top looks like a saber tooth tiger and she lost a bottom tooth as well. Since the coach had no towels handy, my dress shirt came off, followed by the Old Navy T-Shirt I was wearing underneath so she could stop the bleeding. And I could care less that I exposed the world to my white, under developed upper body while I tried to help her.
Besides, it was only for a few minutes and that's what shrinks are for anyways, right? As I tucked her into bed tonight, I passed on all the well wishes from my friends at SG and told her for the millionth time the dentist would be able to fix it as good as new.
Still, the sound that ball made is ringing in my ears, and I wish with every part of my being it could be MY teeth messed up instead of hers.
How come all those parenting books you read never prepare you for times like these?