Momma + Trauma = Drama

Let me set the record straight - I do not handle emergency situations well at all. I am the one that the saying was based on, "Panic causes panic". Yes, I cause all the panic. I have warned those around me that it would not be in their best interest to call me for comfort if they are on their death bed. I know the rules of "etiquette" on how you are to be in a tragic or traumatic moment ~ but none of those rules can hold up during the time I need them to. I assure you, if you are laying in your bed needing me to comfort you, encouraging you and all those fine things -- I will be in the bathroom about to faint and be sick. If the doctor says "poke",
I will hear "croak". If he said "bedside", I'd hear "cyanide".

I remember an afternoon when I was heading off to work around 3:30pm to work my 4-midnight shift. As I was leaving, my son (who was 3 at the time) was standing on the front porch playing with his nose. I asked him if he needed a tissue and told him to go in the house to have his dad get one - gave him a hug and kiss and left.

Around 9:30 I called home to check in and say goodnight. All seemed well.

At 12:30am when I arrived home, they were still awake. Landon was laying in our bed and my husband was looking up his nose with a flashlight. He turned to me and said that Landon had been saying there was a bee up his nose but he didn't see anything. I grabbed the flashlight in search of anything ~ just darkness. About this time he began to cry saying it hurt and saying "Mommy - a bee - a bee up my nose!"

Immediately I grab him up thinking the bee has now caved its way into my sons brain and that's why I can't see it. Off to the ER 45 miles away Landon & I go. I presume my husband was left standing in the drive as I didn't stop for a second to give him a second thought.

Upon reaching the ER, I give Landon a buffet of Mountain Dew, gummy bears and chocolate covered cupcakes in the waiting room trying to earn his love back for being such a crummy mom - I mean, he has had this bee up his nose almost 12 hours!

We are taken back to our little ER space where the doctor comes in and swings the shower curtain drape closed around us. He sits down and immediately begins drilling me. Landon isn't crying -- he hasn't cried again since we left the house. I tell the doctor that I believe maybe the bee has died somewhere up that tiny little hole that is nothing but pitch darkness. He begins his exam sticking his pen light as far up as he can go -- nothing. He begins explaining to me what things are going to be done in order to locate the trespassing bee.

Suddenly, Landon sneezes. Something flies by my ear like a speeding bullet, through the crack in the curtain to the wall behind us in the hall and under the copy machine.

The doctor walks over and moves the copier out of the way, bends down and picks something up, stands up holding it in his fingers and looks at me and says "It's a bead!"

No more "make your own jewelry kits" for my daughter.