Last Friday night, I sent the boys and a friend off to their high school football game. Evan is playing mostly for the JV this year, but he also gets to dress down and hold a spot on the sidelines for varsity. Braden and their friend Vince took a football with them so that they could throw the ball around, because heaven knows you don't actually go to the games to WATCH, you go to see and be seen by all the others not watching. (I am so glad I'm no longer a teenager, because I really don't get this. I didn't then, and I'm no closer to getting it now!)
Anyway, being Labor Day weekend and all, our family had plans to leave Saturday morning for the last camping trip of the season, so Tom, Savannah, and I stayed home to pack up and get everything ready. Around 8:00 p.m., Braden called and asked if I would run into town to give them money so they could eat (because I AM an endless money pit in their minds!). Being the good mommy that I am, I told him no, that they could eat when they got home.
In the meantime, I ate my dinner and was just heading back out to help with the trailer when my brain registered the fact that there was a sheriff's vehicle in the driveway. I'm a little slow on the uptake, so I sat and stared puzzling at it for a few seconds trying to imagine how one of the kids could have gotten in trouble when I'd just talked to them 30 minutes prior! About that time, the little neurons inside my head reconnected, and I noticed that Tom and the deputy were shouldering an obviously-injured Braden up the steps to the house.
We got him inside, I took one look at his ankle, and we carried him back outside to my car for the 25 minute ride to the hospital emergency room - a very long trip for him as he tried to breathe through the pain. Turns out that he had been tackled a good one while he had the ball, and broke the lower tibia in his left leg (the weight-bearing bone). We have always taught our kids that if they are going to do something, they should do it right, so Braden has taken this to heart even with injuries: not only was the leg broken, but it broke right in the growth plate. Fantastic... :(
As we waited for them to call in an orthopedic specialist, the ER doctor asked Bray if he was still interested in growing. Braden, ever the comedian, informed him "I've been thinking of a future career as a pirate..." They knocked him out, reset it, put him in a splint, and we were on our way, drugs in hand.
Poor kid never did get to eat because by the time we got out of there (12:30), he was too tired and in pain to deal with it. The next day, I mentioned that if I had just gone and brought them the money, this probably wouldn't have happened... Braden's response: "It ALL comes back on you!" There goes my mother-of-the-year award, yet again!
Anyway, he got his permanent cast on Thursday and is getting to be quite the pro at getting around on crutches or, when he's tired of that, he just scoots around on his butt! Tom reminded him the other night that "mom is not your personal slave," as I went to get him a drink of water. Really?! I thought I was the personal slave of them ALL. And here's a thought: if he obviously can't get something for himself, why doesn't someone else step forward (*cough*cough*anyone!) and get it for him... Grrr!
But I digress. There was no point in all of us missing the camping trip, so Tom and Savannah and 1 dog went off to have fun while I stayed home and played nurse-maid to Braden and fun-sucker to Evan, who used it as an excuse to stay home and be within cell phone range of his girlfriend.
Anyhoo, here are some pictures... It's going to be a long 8 weeks.
I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to have that funny lump on the front...
Waiting to go to x-ray. And waiting... and waiting... and...
This picture horrifies me! This was on Thursday, right before getting the permanent cast on. The doctor assures me that this is normal. It just shows me what a trooper Braden has been. I don't think I would handle it near as well.