So Thursday after I blogged, gremlin #1 had a friend over to play. I was downstairs straightening up from gremlin #3 (also known as the little tornado) and glanced up the stairs and saw both girls were sitting on the bathroom counter. Actually, my daughter was sitting on the counter, the neighbor girl was standing on the counter behind her doing her hair. Ahem. Not good. I calmly tell them to get down, that we don’t get up on the counters for hair or anything else. I turn my back to chase the little tornado and not even thirty seconds later hear a loud thud followed by a huge scream.

I leave the little tornado screaming (because I closed the kitchen drawer he was destroying) and dart up the stairs. The neighbor girl has the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen, and my daughter is lying on the floor screaming bloody murder.

(If you’ve never heard a bloody murder scream delivered by a 7-yr old girl, let me tell you – it’s loud.)

I pick her up and take her into my room, lay her on the bed. She continues to shriek this ear-piercing scream that makes my head spin. The neighbor girl runs down the stairs and says, “I gotta go home!” (good thinking). Okay, daughter’s not moving, still screaming, I deduce she’s really hurt. Call DH who is at Costco picking up our new patio set. Get home now!

In the meantime, it’s five o’clock and gremlins #2 and #3 are downstairs wreaking havoc because they’re hungry and being ignored. Gremlin #1 is upstairs screaming for her daddy because he’s the nice one and I’m the heavy telling her that’s what she gets for climbing on the counter.

DH finally gets home and I tell him Gremlin #1 is really hurt and might need to go to the ER. Gremlin #1 is hysterical because she can’t move and is worried about how we’re going to get her in the car to go to the dr. (Actually, she’s more worried if we take her to the hospital they’re going to cut her arm off or do surgery – DH had shoulder surgery and has a long scar on his shoulder, so I guess this fear is understandable, but all it did was make me laugh.) DH helps her up. She screams, then sits up and quiets and says in a calm voice, “Oh. Look. I can sit up.” DH and I look at each other. Drama Queen. I’m thinking she’s been faking the whole time. All the sudden she screams and flops back on the bed. DH helps her up again. She stops screaming. “I think I’m okay.” Then out of nowhere she screams and flops back on the bed again.

So I’m thinking, if she’s flopping around like that, she’s not really hurt. I roll my eyes, leave her to DH because my eardrum is permenantly damaged at this point, and go down to run herd on the other two.

DH comes down a few minutes later and says he’s taking her to the ER anyway. I’m thinking, Drama Queen. She’s fine. But I don’t say anything.

They leave. Call me about two hours later. Snapped her collar bone in two.

Hmmm…so much for my medical expertise.

Now she has a sling. They don’t do anything for busted collar bones. Apparantly it will heal on its own without any intervention, although she’ll have a big calcification where the bones are overlapping. She’s milking it for all its worth. I’m letting her because I feel bad for not thinking she was really hurt.

I guess you could say I get the mother of the year award. Honestly, I don’t think I’m a natural-born mother.

On the writing front, J keeps asking me if I’ve finished the darn WIP yet. *frown* Um, not yet, J. Every time I think I’m close, my climax just gets longer and longer. I’m hoping to get some serious writing done today and tomorrow (famous last words.)

If, that is, the gremlins let me. Pray for no more broken bones.