The following events occurred today; none of these events are fictional in nature. Names have not been changed to protect the innocent.
--After scouring the house for the only pair that fit her, we dropped Camille off this morning at our Church Nursery shoeless. When we picked her up after Mass, Lucy, the babysitter (who we love like family) said, "I figured you couldn't find Camille's shoes. Again."
--Mary Bernadette, after using the Church bathroom facilities, was unable to unlock the stall door. In order to rectify this situation and not remain in the bathroom by herself for an entire 60 minutes, MB crawled underneath the stall, leaving the door secured.
--After Mass, John and I chatted with a friend in the parking lot while our children waited in the van. To keep everyone entertained, Meaghan put a pink plastic jewelry bead in Camille's nose. When Camille inhaled, the bead became jammed in her nasal cavity.
--When we learned a bead was stuck up her nose, both John and I instructed Camille to blow as hard and as long as she could. After about 20 minutes, we we realized, no amount of blowing was going to dislodge the pink bead from Camille's nose. It was stuck, stuck, stuck.
--The four older children, upon learning the bead was was not coming out of Camille's nose without medical intervention, began to laugh hysterically. Gut-splitting, pants-wetting laughter.
--While my children laughed, I had a mini-meltdown. So did John. We did not want to go to the doctor's office to have a bead removed from our child's nose.
--When she realized how upset her parents were and when she discovered the bead up Camille's nose would result in a trip to the After Hours Clinic, Meaghan also had a meltdown. She proceeded to sob hysterically while repeating, "I'm so stuppppiiiiiiiid! I'm so stupppppid for putting a bead up Camille's nose."
--Topher attempted to console Meaghan by telling her she was not, in fact, stupid. His efforts were in vain because there was no consoling her.
--On the drive to the doctor's office, Christopher and Camille began arguing about whether the hidden bead was pink or purple in color.
----When we got to the clinic, Camille still had no shoes on her feet. Her shoelessness made us appear like the competent parents we are.
--While we waited to be called back to see the doctor, Christopher approached Camille and offered to try to get the bead out for her. Camille declined.
Pep talk before the "procedure"
--The doctor, due to Camille's wailing and gnashing of teeth, was unable to remove the pink plastic bead from her nose. She informed me we would have to take her to the Emergency Room. "She may need a more advanced surgical procedure," she warned.
-- While the doctor spoke to me, Camille loudly and incessantly yelled, "I want a new doctor! I want a new doctor."
"Camille," I said, "people with pink beads stuck up their noses can't be picky." (Ha, ha.)
--All 7 of us piled into the van--again--and drove over to the ER. When a couple in the waiting room overheard me explaining to the check in clerk the Reason For Our Visit, they started laughing. They laughed alone.
--Fortunately, we didn't have to wait long before they ushered me back and introduced me to Carol, the Physician's Assistant--the lucky person ordained to remove the foreign object from Camille's nose.
--Carol started getting all up in my grille about why Camille's vaccinations weren't up to date, which was when I kindly but firmly let her know that I would finish Carol right then and right there if she began to give me a lecture about the importance of immunizations. Carol comprehended my message and I nodded and silently thought, "Good, Carol. That's a good girl. Let's go ahead and get that bead out."
--While a nurse held Camille's head and hands down, Carol used an ear wax remover to pop the bead out of Camille's nose. John and the other kids could hear Camille screaming in the waiting room. Once it was out, we did not keep the bead for posterity's sake. We were free to go home.
--The Duggan family piled into the van which was when every child announced they were starving and dehydrated. (Melodrama is popular in my house.) Since it was 2:30 in the afternoon, John decided to take everyone for a rare treat--linner (lunch + dinner) at Friendly's Restaurant.
--Once we were seated and hydrated, I noticed the waitress ushering a mother and her two daughters to a booth next to ours. When the mother saw my brood, she requested that she not be seated next to a Table With So Many Young People and the waitress moved them. For the remainder of the meal, I resisted the urge to get up and tell the woman, "We didn't really want to sit by you either. Thanks for doing us all a favor." I didn't say the things I so badly wanted to say, but I did judge her for the i-pad and the ten other technological devices they used at their table in order to "get through" a meal together.
--While eating her ice cream sundae with an extra large sundae spoon, Camille gagged herself. "It's because of my stwep thwoat," she explained. She doesn't have strep throat but she does have a sore nose.
--At the end of the meal, in addition to the chicken fingers, fries, and ice cream he ingested, Christopher announced he also swallowed a piece of crayon.
--Some good news: when we arrived home, I noticed Camille's shoes lying in the grass right next to Christopher's dump truck.
--Some more good news: everyone is fine, no one has any beads stuck up their nose, and everyone played in the yard this evening.
Living In The Land Of Ridiculous isn't really so bad. I'd be bored if I lived anywhere else.
Shoeless and beadless Camille Duggan