As promised

So, over the last couple of weeks, three things have made me think of Jasmin. Her blog is the reason I started this blog. I've never actually met her, but she is a friend of a friend and now my friend as well, via email and mail and that kind of thing. She speaks lots of languages, she has a little boy, she likes chocolate--you know, my kinda woman. Unlike me, she's in the National Guard, on post somewhere in the middle of the desert--the American desert, not the Iraqi one, fortunately.

Anyway, here's the list.

1. The finger. Jasmin is currently working in the ER on post and at one point posted something along the lines of, If you find yourself with an urgent medical problem, go to your doctor or call an ambulance. Don't go to the emergency room if you can possibly avoid it. I was thinking this as I stood in my kitchen, dishtowel clamped tightly over hand, blood dripping on the floor. It was not a big cut--maybe an inch and a half, but it was deep, and definitely was going to need stitches. So, I thought, what on earth do I do now? Iyyar's in the bouncy seat wanting to be picked up (no way), Barak's in his booster seat finishing his post-nap snack, it's three in the afternoon and my husband won't be home for another three hours. And I can't use either of my hands. What do I do??

What I did, after some panicked blank looks at my kids, was call my husband's cell. No pickup of course--he was in class. Then I called my friend Chana across the street. No pickup, but she has a lot of kids and almost never picks up her phone during the day. I can't believe it--I'm going to have to call 911 over a stupid little finger cut. Just as I was about to feel like the biggest idiot in the world, Chana called back. She came over, and then I called the school office, and they pulled my husband out of class and sent him home. He took Barak over to Chana's house where they waited for her older kids' bus, and she put Iyyar in the carseat and took us both to the ER. Where we waited for HOURS, while Iyyar flipped out wanting to nurse the right way, and I could barely hold him at all. Maybe 911 would have been better? But I would really have felt stupid calling an ambulance over a three-stitch cut. But let me tell you, walk into a busy ER with a small hand laceration and oh BOY are you on the bottom of their list, along with the sore throats and sniffles. Starving baby or no starving baby.

Oh, well, I don't need to tell the whole saga, but it turns out that I just nicked some very sensitive nerve (the cut was at the base of my first finger, between finger and thumb--right across the side of my hand) which was why a cut that looked like it should have been nothing hurt more than anything I've experienced short of having a baby. That sounds melodramatic, but it's actually true. It derailed my entire week--I couldn't do anything, and I was constantly jumping out of my skin when one of the kids bumped or kicked it. The stitches came out yesterday, but it's still taped up and still pretty uncomfortable. Oh, and because I haven't been able to get it wet, and haven't been able to use it much, I have not even started cooking or cleaning for the chagim. Which are in, um, six days. Right.

2. Barak had his own balloon heartbreak this week. We went to Trader Joe's, where of course he got a nice helium balloon at checkout. It was yellow. I tied it to his wrist. (You can see where this is going, right?) He didn't like that. I moved it to his overall straps. He liked that less. So I tied it to something else--I forget what--and a moment later saw the balloon sailing up, up past the extended roof of the store, up up up into the sky and away. Barak was hysterical. "Bawoon! Bawoon up! Bawoon!" I asked him if he wanted another one, and he didn't. "Is the ballong going up? Is it going bye bye? Bye bye balloon!" He waved at the balloon, not wanting another one but still distressed--I think because in his mind, things do not get lost in the direction of UP. Things do not fall UP. It was a violation of nature, more than the loss of the balloon, that seemed upsetting.

Fast forward a week. We were walking down the street, Iyyar in the sling, Barak holding my hand. It was a gorgeous day. Barak looked up and said, "Sky blue!" Right, the sky is blue! Pause. "Sky white?" Right, the clouds are white! Good job, you know so much! Pause. "Balloon lellow. Balloon go bye bye sky. Up up sky. Sky blue!"

Indeed.

3. Oh my gosh. There were three things. There WERE. What was the third thing? Um. Uh. I can't remember. Okay, when I remember I'll come back and add it. Stay tuned.