Did I Mention I'm Having A Bad Summer?

Today was supposed to be better. I mean, really. We had plans to go hang at a friends house--every one of my kids should have been happy. They should have woken up with bright big smiles saying, "Good Morning, Mom! I slept so good, lets do something fun today!"

Instead it went like this:

Me: Wake up, guys! Let's get up and go so we can go play and then Gran and PawPaw are coming over!

Them: "muuuueeegggguhhhh"

Me: Wake up, Wake Up! Good Morning (all singsong like)

Christopher: Hey Mom! I'm Awake!

Ashley: Ok, I'm up.

Jacob: GO AWAY! I don't WANT to go play. I don't WANT to go to pawpaw's. Leave. Me. Alone.

Jacob then proceeded to kick Christopher out of their room when he tried to go pick up his toys, thereby acquiring the job of cleaning up the room alone. For this, I was punished by pounding on the wall, which I ignored, so he did it again, which I ignored, so he threw a book at me, which I ignored, so he pounded some more and did some yelling.

Bad, Bad morning.

So finally, about lunchtime, off we head to play. All is good, all is calm, until, there we are sitting on the couch and enjoying some grown up quiet time when a screaming child comes busting through the door. Is this Lisa's child? No. It's mine. It's always mine. My bright boy climbed on some wood with bare feet and got splinters all in his big toe.

And let me tell you. You can hold a leg still. You can hold a foot still. But try as you may, you cannot hold a big toe still. And try convincing a 5 year old to let you poke his toe with a needle. You should laugh at me now for even attempting that one.

I tried bribery: a trip to the snowball stand for a blueberry snowball, watch cartoons on tv, swimming at pawpaw's house, and coke. Didn't work. Oh, don't get me wrong, he really liked each and every one of those ideas, and even agreed to them, except in practice.

I tried threats: if you don't let me do this, you won't be able to swim at pawpaw's, I will have to take you to the doctor and he might have to give you a shot. Unfortunately, this kid's not scared of me. That's my big problem. None of em are.

I tried to hold his foot still by throwing my leg over his, and holding that foot out for Lisa to prick. But he'd just make that nasty toe wiggle and wiggle around so it was impossible to poke at.

He told me I was hurting him, when I hadn't even touched his skin! He first told me no scissors (they were tweezers, not scissors) so I got a needle. Then he told me no needle, just scissors. But then he'd tell me I was hurting him and no scissors.

After an hour of two grown women pleading and begging and bribing and holding down, I gave up. I called the doc and took him in.

They brought us into their procedure room, and put him up on the big chair. They made a great ice pack out of one of those latex gloves, and numbed his toe. They used a needle and tweezers way bigger and sharper than mine. They even made him bleed some. Did he cry? Did he scream? Did he wiggle?

NO. Well, he whimpered a few times, but then I'd shove a sour gummy shark in his mouth and he'd stop. At one point he pointed at the doctor and he said to me "That man is hurting me."

But then that man gave him two cool stickers, and he could've cared less.

So finally, 3 hours and $15 later, we are splinter free. I wonder if those sharks will work on a headache.