Murpheous, the God of Parenting

I've always been intrigued by Greek Mythology, but currently I am starting to believe there may be some truth to it. Most specifically, I'm pretty sure there is a God of Parenting, and that dude has one sick sense of humour.

Thursday afternoon I came home from work. I had worked the full school day, so Droid picked up the kids from school. Everyone was good, but Aidan was just on the couch, being kind of low key. My momma senses started to tingle, and immediately I was asking if he was okay. He said he was, no word from him or Daddy on anything happening at school.

He continued to seem off, so I spent some time cuddling him, asking if he was okay. Eventually he said his hand was hurting because a kid at school had accidentally kicked a ball into it at recess. It looked swollen, so I got him some ice and Advil, and continued to hang out with him on the couch.

Friday morning he was still in pain and swollen, but was able to move his hand and fingers, so I figured if we continued to do the ice/elevate/Advil/rest routine, he would be okay. We let him stay home from school, set him up on the couch, and he took it easy for the day.

Saturday morning he seemed about the same. So I'm keeping my eye on him and continuing to make him rest, but still thinking if we just keep doing what we're doing it will get better. Around 2:30 pm, the swelling and the pain seem to be worse, so I decide to call the doctor. For some reason, their answering system keeps looping me back to the main menu so I can't get through to them. They closed at 3 pm.

So I called Tele-health, (for my American friends, that's a number you can call to speak to a registered nurse to get advice on what your next steps should be for any health concern). They advised me to take him to emergency. Which they really actually do quite often. At least for the things I've called on, but that's okay, because I would rather be safe than sorry. Even if this story doesn't make it sound like that is my philosophy.

So, first I cut his fingernails, because they looked like claws and I didn't want to give the hospital a reason to question if I was the one to break his wrist. Next, we got dressed (for the same reason), because we were still in our pyjamas.  Then we set off for the hospital.

We got through rather quickly, and everyone in the hospital was fantastic. After a few rounds of x-rays and examinations, we find that Aidan fractured his wrist. They put on the cast and we are on our way, with instructions to come back to the fracture clinic in about a week.

Now, here is the part where (Andrew is awesome) (No, he isn't but I had him preview this and he typed that in himself), I finally tie into my opening statements. The God of Parenting- Murpheous, because its obviously where the idea of Murphy's Law stemmed from.

In the past, Aidan developed petechiae spots that could indicate things like leukaemia or blood poisoning, we rush to emerg- PYSCH!  All is good, go home, thanks for coming.
Aidan has intense chest pains- rush to emerg-PYSCH! All is good, go home, thanks for coming.

But, Aidan gets hit in the hand with a ball, AND HIS WRIST IS BROKEN?! And I made him sit like that since Thursday?! Way to make me feel like a jerk, Murpheous, God of Parenting.

There are so many moments like that in parenting! Oh, you don't have to get up early for work this morning? You have a chance to sleep-in for the first time in 8 years? Guess what, baby is up early! BAM! Murpheous at work.

What's that? You just told your friend how great your baby is sleeping? BAM! Baby is up all night! Murpheous at work.

And I could go on, and on, and on. But I won't, because this probably only makes sense in my head. But the God of Parenting is what I was thinking about as I drove Aidan to the hospital.

P.S. Speaking of a sick sense of humour: the boy who kicked the ball into Aidan's hand is named Michael. When Michael asks Aidan what happened, he plans on responding with "YOU happened!"

That's my boy :)