Sunday, October 29, 2006

Almost caught, still red handed

You think you know what you're doing.

You have it all figured out. Nothing left to chance. Only. It's all left to chance.

My plans were simple. Take a nap (me); visit Goodwill, Ittybit needs some long-sleeved shirts and pants that don't show off her ankles (cute as they may be, it's getting cold outside); and the dreaded laundry. Always the laundry.

She isn't napping, which means she's wired. W.I.R.E.D. Dancing around, showing off her new, diaperless bottom to anyone who cares to be a bum looker. I wasn't even thinking as she pirouette around the living room, pouncing on the new (to us) orthopedic dog bed built for two.

It never occurred to me that the woodstove might still be hot. I wasn't even thinking about it. It had been hours since we stoked it up. Last year we were vigilant. We set up barricades, frowned on living room frolic. Stressed how HOT it could get. She stayed away. We considered her an old pro.

But she lost her balance, reached out to steady herself and pressed right up against the stove. I wasn't motionless, for once. For once I was right there, moving toward her. But not fast enough. Her hand pressed against the window in front. I could almost hear the faint sticking sound of her fingertips pulling away from the hot glass. It all happened in less than a second.

She was silent, and then screaming.

I rushed her into the kitchen and put her hand under the running cold water. I still couldn't tell if it was shock or pain. But the crying didn't subside, she couldn't get comfortable and ringing her hand just made it worse. More water. Ice. Eventually, a glass of water she submerged her right hand in as if Madge were in charge of the manicure.

Second degree burns. Three white blisters appeared, one each, on the fingertips of her index, middle and ring fingers.

She cried and sobbed for what seemed like the entire afternoon. Even though she ate three pieces of pizza, handfuls of Cheez-Its and several "Lunch Box Juices," every time she caught sight of her hand the tears came all over again.

I finally convinced her to take some Motrin, and she calmed down. She took a bath and played in the warm water, using both hands to squeeze toys and transport water.

she ate dinner eagerly with both hands. Pork, broccoli and homemade applesauce.

Another "Lunch Box Juice."

Only at bedtime did the hand pain return. I filled a sippy cup with crushed ice (and some water) and told her to hold it and drink. She did, but it was just a ploy. She wanted to talk about how she'd get just as big as me one day, and maybe even as big as "Jed." She likes to remind me that she knows our names, and thinks she's so big for using them.

All day I was Mamamamamamama.

Tonight, at bedtime, I was Sha-waon.

She's feeling better.


Gail said...

Oooh, OUCH! I have a burn on my leg from the zipper of a heating pad a few weeks ago, and it hurt like the dickens in the shower. I can only imagine what it's like on little fingers.

Be Still said...

Poor thing, that's a bummer! I'm so sorry to hear about itty-bit's misfortune.

You were smart to do the ice water right away. That definitely stops the burn from traveling deeper.

You may already know this, but Motrin works great for burn pain if she still hurts.

Hope you are OK too Siobhan!

gingajoy said...

oy! I remember watching my son in slow motion head towards a BBQ grill at a picnic and put his forearm against it. NASTY! And yes, the guilt. The Guilt.

He's not done it since though... (is that evil of me to say??)

toyfoto said...

I don't think that's evil, actually Gingajoy, Not at all. My husband said something very similar when he came upstairs to see what all the commotion was about. When I told him what happened he just said: "My mom always told me both me and my sister only needed one run-in with the woodstove. We'd never go near it again."

Thing is, she KNOWS not to go near it. This was stupidity (my part) rearing it's ugly head. I let living room frolic go on without thinking that the stove was hot. She wouldn't have touched it if she hadn't lost her balance nearby. Ug.

Andrea said...

Don't beat yourself up, though. You cannot foretell every potential accident. You just can't. And that's all it was, an accident.

ECR said...

I feel for both your and ittybit. Parenthood is so scary because it's not a matter of IF something will go wrong on our watch, but WHEN. That's a heavy burden, if you ask me. I'm glad to hear your big girl isn't any worse for the wear.

kimmyk said...

OMG..bless her heart. I remember one time when my nephew was 4 he burnt his arm on my curling iron. i still remember it as if it were yesterday. guilt.

sorry she got hurt. made my stomach warm reading it. i hope she's feeling better...poor thing.

least you got the picture to remind her of the event as reinforcement to not go near it again.

Kcoz said...

Oh No... Ouch!! The poor thing, I guess that such events should be filed under “The School of Hard Nocks.”

When I was about three or four and I still remember this. I deliberately stepped on some nails protruding from a broken wood crate... Yaouch. I had no clue they would go through my shoes. Lesson learned, and through my many years in the construction trade I have never stepped on a nail.

I did see the picture of her room from earlier that day... she must have been really wound-up.

I hope she is feeling better today.

Anonymous said...

Poor Annabel :( If it makes her feel any better, tell her that Firestarter5 had his finger bit by an ant-eater at the Buffalo Zoo! And I still have the little scar to prove it...