How My Kid Lost A Hand Thanks To The Stomach Flu

Well crap, I even suck at being a sick momma. 

It all started with a stomach bug. 

It hit each of the kids like a ton of bricks and I had my fingers desperately crossed that it would pass me by. 

It didn't. 

So there I was, trying to enjoy a good puke in peace. But toddlers are kind of like cats. When you want them around, they want nothing to do with you. But when you need a few solo moments, they are pressed up tight against you, poking little fingers in all kinds of places they don't belong. 

This was no exception. 

Sterling bent over the toilet across from me, offering lots of helpful commentary and asking a million questions. 

"What you doin' Momma?"

"What that noise?"

"Oooooh yucky! So stinky!" 

"You sick? You go doctor to get medicine?"

"You OK Momma? You happy?"

"I flush toilet now? Now? I flush toilet now?"

And Bennett did his valiant best to slam my head with the toilet bowl lid as many times as possible. 

Each time I stopped him, he belligerently yelled "GO!" in my face.

Awesome. 

So in a fit of desperation, I decided to shut them both out of the bathroom so I could hork in peace. 

Yes, I knew that they would stand on the other side of the door and scream the whole time. 

Yes, I knew it would likely scar them for life, and be its own unique episode in their therapy. 

No, I didn't care. Because I knew I would likely throttle the next kid that whacked me in the head with a toilet bowl lid while I stared down into the watery depths of a toilet and silently contemplated my misery. 

So I relocated them in shifts. First I smuggled Bennett out and shut the door. Then I wrangled Sterling and pushed her out.

I tried to shut the door behind her, but met some resistance. Thinking that they were both pushing back against the door, I pushed harder. They were both screaming at this point, so I didn't think anything of it.

I pushed again, but I was having a much harder time getting the door shut than I expected. Then I noticed a set of little fingers sticking through the back of the door, right by the hinge.

Evidently, I had been repeatedly trying to push the door shut on Ben's little fingers. 

Freakin' awesome. 

He was full on red faced furious at this point. He had started by being pissed when he was kicked out of the bathroom party. Having his little hand shut in the door just ratcheted everything up to the next level.

He sat in my lap and screeched in my face for a good twenty minutes. Which is AWESOME for nausea, by the way. 

He then climbed down to screech in my face while he tried to slam me in the head with the toilet bowl lid. Again and again. 

Point made buddy, point made...

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