Feeling the Pinch
A few weeks ago, I wrote a riveting post about giving the kids separate baths. They’d become too large and too mobile to allow everyone in the bathtub simultaneously. Children were climbing over each other, each fighting for the coveted spot under the faucet, and I was afraid someone would fall face first in the water.
That strategy lasted for about nine seconds. As soon as I turned on the faucet for the first bath, all three children ran or crawled into the bathroom, sidled up to the side of the tub, and watched the magic faucet fill the tub. I realized that as hard as it was to keep the children from trampling each other within the tub, it would be even harder to keep them out of the tub. So I threw everyone in the tub without trying to give separate baths, and have continued doing so. I still worry about someone falling face first in the water, probably because it’s happened a few times, but as long as I’m next to the tub to quickly rescue the horizontal, everyone should stay relatively safe.
After the bath comes the set routine for dressing everyone. I dry and diaper the boys while Abbie runs naked about the house, and then put a diaper on Abbie before she sprinkles more than bathwater on the carpet. Despite getting the last diaper, Abbie dons her pajamas first to deter her from playing with the diaper’s straps. Otherwise her diaper would be on the floor potentially alongside a little something extra. The boys wait for a few minutes by playing in the hallway while I clothe Abbie completely oblivious to their actions. This might not sound safe, but I ignore them all the time. I have to ignore the kids periodically; otherwise how would I ever change diapers, clean up after meals, or read the newspaper?
Their last bath went without incident, except for the few times Abbie intentionally put her face in the water to see what would happen. The kids may be getting better at keeping their faces above water as they jockey for position, or maybe they’ve just learned to keep their distance when Abbie gets the “that is the coolest thing I have ever seen” look in her eyes. I pulled everyone out, diapered the boys, and went to work on Abbie.
As I attached Abbie’s diaper, I heard Tory scream from the hallway. I figured he was mad that Ian knocked him over, or perhaps he was caught dangling over the edge of the book basket again. I continued working with Abbie until I reached a stopping point with her, though as I slipped her pants on I recognized Tory’s scream as the “I’m in pain” kind.
With Abbie adequately dressed and on the floor, I checked on the boys. Ian was playing with the door to the hallway closet, happily opening and closing it. Tory was sitting to his side with his fingers caught in the door hinge. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have moved Ian to the side and calmly pried Tory’s fingers out of the hinge. I was not thinking clearly, I was tired after a long day of chasing the kids and stressed from ignoring my child’s screams of pain.
I slammed the door shut to keep Ian from playing with it, and I guess magically free Tory’s fingers in the process. Instead it pinched Tory’s fingers again, and probably harder than Ian 17-pound frame ever could. I sympathetically cringed and worked to loosen Tory’s fingers while praying he wasn’t seriously hurt. With fingers free, I picked him up, listened to him scream, and watched his fingers closely. They were pale white as the pinched out blood hadn’t yet returned, but he was moving them freely as he flailed wildly to cope with the pain.
I gave him a dose of ibuprofen to help with the pain, but he’d already stopped screaming by the time I put the medicine dropper in his mouth. Tory then enjoyed being carried for an extra long time as I made him as calm as possible before setting him down. He was about to be ignored for a few more moments as I put pajamas on Ian. I eventually set Tory down far away from the hallway door.
That strategy lasted for about nine seconds. As soon as I turned on the faucet for the first bath, all three children ran or crawled into the bathroom, sidled up to the side of the tub, and watched the magic faucet fill the tub. I realized that as hard as it was to keep the children from trampling each other within the tub, it would be even harder to keep them out of the tub. So I threw everyone in the tub without trying to give separate baths, and have continued doing so. I still worry about someone falling face first in the water, probably because it’s happened a few times, but as long as I’m next to the tub to quickly rescue the horizontal, everyone should stay relatively safe.
After the bath comes the set routine for dressing everyone. I dry and diaper the boys while Abbie runs naked about the house, and then put a diaper on Abbie before she sprinkles more than bathwater on the carpet. Despite getting the last diaper, Abbie dons her pajamas first to deter her from playing with the diaper’s straps. Otherwise her diaper would be on the floor potentially alongside a little something extra. The boys wait for a few minutes by playing in the hallway while I clothe Abbie completely oblivious to their actions. This might not sound safe, but I ignore them all the time. I have to ignore the kids periodically; otherwise how would I ever change diapers, clean up after meals, or read the newspaper?
Their last bath went without incident, except for the few times Abbie intentionally put her face in the water to see what would happen. The kids may be getting better at keeping their faces above water as they jockey for position, or maybe they’ve just learned to keep their distance when Abbie gets the “that is the coolest thing I have ever seen” look in her eyes. I pulled everyone out, diapered the boys, and went to work on Abbie.
As I attached Abbie’s diaper, I heard Tory scream from the hallway. I figured he was mad that Ian knocked him over, or perhaps he was caught dangling over the edge of the book basket again. I continued working with Abbie until I reached a stopping point with her, though as I slipped her pants on I recognized Tory’s scream as the “I’m in pain” kind.
With Abbie adequately dressed and on the floor, I checked on the boys. Ian was playing with the door to the hallway closet, happily opening and closing it. Tory was sitting to his side with his fingers caught in the door hinge. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have moved Ian to the side and calmly pried Tory’s fingers out of the hinge. I was not thinking clearly, I was tired after a long day of chasing the kids and stressed from ignoring my child’s screams of pain.
I slammed the door shut to keep Ian from playing with it, and I guess magically free Tory’s fingers in the process. Instead it pinched Tory’s fingers again, and probably harder than Ian 17-pound frame ever could. I sympathetically cringed and worked to loosen Tory’s fingers while praying he wasn’t seriously hurt. With fingers free, I picked him up, listened to him scream, and watched his fingers closely. They were pale white as the pinched out blood hadn’t yet returned, but he was moving them freely as he flailed wildly to cope with the pain.
I gave him a dose of ibuprofen to help with the pain, but he’d already stopped screaming by the time I put the medicine dropper in his mouth. Tory then enjoyed being carried for an extra long time as I made him as calm as possible before setting him down. He was about to be ignored for a few more moments as I put pajamas on Ian. I eventually set Tory down far away from the hallway door.
posted by Matt at
11:12 PM
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