Every time

I don't know why but it seems as if something bad happens every time my husband leaves on a trip. He's in Chicago this week for a conference. He's been gone less than 24 hours and I'm taking both kids into the doctor's office--I think my oldest might need stitches and my youngest is running a fever and his lymph nodes are swollen again.

Last night we had tornado warnings, which meant we retreated to the basement where, should the worst happen, we'd stand a better chance of survival. The basement is nothing fancy. It has cement floors and walls. Half of it is filled with exercise equipment, a wrap-around couch, and toys. The other half is my scrapbooking room and laundry area. Once I realized the weather had become unstable, I sent my kids and my sister's kids into the basement. Then I spent time finding a flashlight, a lighter for the candles I keep down there, warmer clothes for all of us (the basement is always cold), snacks, and drinks. Once the essentials were taken care of my sister and I started to move our scrapbooking stuff downstairs. In the background the television was issuing it's warnings and telling us how to survive a tornado should one touch down in our area.

We'd just gotten everything moved down there and the radio turned on so we could continue to listen to the storm's progress when my oldest began screaming. The kids had been playing with a ball, kicking it back and forth. Apparently, it hit my son in the back of the head, which propelled him into his dad's makeshift workstation. Two boards had been balanced between a couple of chairs so my husband could stain some trim a few weeks ago. Well, my son hit the boards with his face. The cuts aren't big but I think the one must be very deep. I gave him some aspirin, bandaged the wound, and had him put ice on it. After the storm passed and my sister and her kids left I changed the bandaid and sent him to bed.

When the little guy woke up this morning the second bandaid was soaked through and some blood had seeped out. I cleaned him up and put a third bandaid on the little cut. (Seriously, the cut might be 2 cm long and it's not at all wide). I had hoped that would be end the of it but the damn thing won't stop bleeding.

I admit I was still going to go into work and have my daycare provider keep an eye on it for me. I always feel it's better to go in to work and get called out than to not go at all, especially on days I've agreed to cover a coworker's late night. When I woke up my youngest that plan went right out the window.

I don't know what's going on with that child. He was fine when I put him to bed but this morning he was running 103 fever. The daycare won't take him when it's over 100 degrees so I really had no option but to call in.

I called the doctor's as soon as they opened and made an appointment for each child. 10:40 seems a long ways away.