It was a sleepless night and frigid morning, the scent of our first night's heat wafting through the house. Hip Chick's hair was frizzed with signs of a 3am awakening. Daddy and I, fueled by four cups of coffee, pushing adrenal exhaustion...
and... IT... happened...
Hip Chick had awakened with the ravenous appetite of a yet-to-be-discovered creature from Jurassic Park. As Daddy and I switched off, we carefully fed her like a dangerous, caged zoo animal while she double-fisted two breakfast drinks and cheered on Disney's Cars as though she was at a NASCAR event. Unfortunately, this red eye smorgasbord included three oranges. If we had only foreseen...
The explosion occurred at approximately 11:30am. It oozed up and out everywhere, it seemed. She was what I envisioned a child rescued from a California mudslide would resemble. I have never before indulged in one of those luxurious spa mud wraps... and may not ever after cleaning this mess.
It took an entire box of baby wipes to clean her and the cast lining. (Note: it is unlikely to fully clean such leaks from spica casts and we must be careful regarding what we put on skin under the cast!!) Imagine Hip Chick in her cast, laying across my lap, arms flailing, feet wagging like epileptic pinball flippers, and howling for Daddy to save her from my thorough scouring. I silently thanked her surgeon for providing such a roomy bodice for this cast, as I capitalized on the opportunuty to take a damp cloth with baby soap and wipe every part of her body I could possibly reach. Two weeks left in her casting assignment and I was far less concerned about the potential for minute cast warping as compared to her smelling like a dumpster for Thanksgiving.
So close and yet still challenged! Currently, she is napping in her room after an admirable rally attempt, possibly dreaming that her tiger is eating Mommy this time.
Counting the days...
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