The Fish Pond: Once More, Right in the Ol' Schnozz

I am short, and something that goes along with that is that I have profoundly short arms. When I get shirts that fit really, really well otherwise, the sleeves are always too short. Sometimes, this puts me in danger.

A little over a week ago I was holding Nemo while Uncle Orca and BigDaddyFish were getting the other kids put to bed. I had to come down the hall for some reason, and I was sick of Nemo screaming in his crib (yeah, CIO and getting him moved out of our bed is going SOOOOOO well) so I grabbed him and was holding him in front of me, arm wrapped around him. He wasn't happy with this arrangement and was flailing about, and in the process he rammed his head full force right into my nose, almost as though I had been given an uppercut to the bottom of my nose.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything. Uncle Orca saw it and asked if I was okay, I shook my head ever so slightly. Then he asked if I wanted him to take the baby and I nodded, again slightly. He took the baby and I kind of collapsed against our changing table/Nemo's dresser, and when I got my breath back I shrieked "SHIT!!!!" and I hear BigDaddyFish's voice from Little Man's room say, mildly, "That's gonna leave a mark."

I wasn't laughing.

The nose hurt all night long, and I thought for sure it was broken, but no racoon eyes or bruising or bleeding, just pain. Heachaches. Pain. I couldn't blow my nose because the muscle pressure was too painful, not even accounting for having to touch my nose to do it. I couldn't go to the doctor because 1. I don't have a regular doctor, and 2. I was too busy with kids to be able to get away, because the girls decided to get diarrhea and were home from school this week, plus it snowed at inconvenient times so Trout didn't have ballet, either. Anyway, I didn't get to the doctor, and it continued to hurt and hurt.

Air on my face hurt. Blowing my nose hurt. I would wake myself up by rolling over and grazing it slightly with the pillow. People kept telling me, unsolicited, that it was crooked.

Monday Sunny had taken her shoes off in the car, and as I bent over to put the shoes back on her so she could walk into the house, you guessed it, she kicked me square in the face, twice, just kicking her legs around. I sat on the edge of the car, writhing around in the street, seeing stars, and screaming. You would think this would attract someone's attention, but no. Hope I never get attacked in front of my house.

Then, in the final coup de grace, two nights ago I was adjusting Little Man in his bed, because he has a tendency to helicopter and had spun himself around to where his head was against the wall and his legs were hanging off the bed, and in the course of me fixing him he swung his arm back and elbowed me full force in the nose. I dropped him and started screaming. Eleven pm and I'm on my knees next to Little Man's bed, screaming and yelling and crying and holding my face, and wouldn't you know, none of the kids woke up. Not one, and certainly not the one who had inflicted the damange. BDF came running, but I was beyond help.

Still, no black eyes, no blood. But it's crooked, and swollen, though that's getting better today, and I can touch it again without wincing.

"You need to do a better job protecting your nose," says BDF. I didn't punch him in the nose, though the thought certainly crossed my mind.

Maybe I need to get a hockey mask.

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In other news, I won Best of Blog Exchange again, though they were ALL wonderful posts, and I was quite surprised to have won. Go here to see them again.

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Yeah, that kid's got a head like a cannonball. They've all gone for my nose at one time or another... though Trout and Little Man had a talent for ramming their heads up against the bottom of my jaw suddenly, far more often than they went for the nose. It's a wonder I have any teeth left. Or a tongue. :-)

Posted by: | December 08, 2007 at 11:53 AM