Saturday, October 24, 2009

Election Results

10-21-09

Two hundred first through eighth graders cast their student council ballots today at Lucas’ school. Election results will be posted Friday afternoon. Lucas presented his speech beautifully at yesterday’s rally, as did his competition. Win or lose this twelve year old is a champion in my heart.

Hmmmmm….President! It is refreshing to see that he aims high.

When I was in seventh grade, I ran and won the election for the Officer of Religious Affairs. Attending Catholic school, this office’s main responsibility was to track each grade’s progress on selling The Tidings (Catholic magazine) subscriptions. It was a class competition and I made each grade a flower pot with a flower that grew in proportion to the amount of subscriptions sold. When the contest was over, the grade with the tallest flower won. And THAT was the beginning and end of my middle school political career. My sophomore year of high school, I was on the student council, but cannot recall my office title….was it secretary?

What’s my point? Never ever did I have the vision or guts to strive to be the president of anything. Lucas is already the victor in my life just for having the confidence to seek and reach out for the title of Chief.

10-23-09 Two Days Later…
Lucas did not win the race and he seems to be shrugging it off nicely. I am so proud of that kid! On to the next event…..a seventh grade overnight field trip to Sea World….

Monday, October 19, 2009

No Improvement Needed

There are reasons why I sincerely enjoy working in a fourth grade classroom, and here is one example why.

Memory books at this age are not as elaborate as in kindergarten, but a wonderful token and a one-of-a kind creation made by each student…..pictures, poems, writing, …and I like to throw in a few pages of interesting information that will be valued more when they are forty, instead of a measly ten years old. It is then, later in life, they will be gently reminded of their childlike ways. Those patterns that have slipped away with the decades.….I am hoping these pages of personal information will awaken the child within them and again, they will find themselves craving a healthy overdose of sugar and a competitive game of four square. Maybe it will jog their memory of how simply a child’s mind operates…..so different than our adult brains.

This particular paper that the class worked on was titled, THE STONG AND THE WEAK ME. The kids rated if they were weak or strong at different sorts of talents… from math, friendship and spelling to soccer, organization and painting…..At the end of this paper was a space to list, “Three Things I Am Good At.”

It is here the kids have a chance to acknowledge and list their strengths.

Today while filing through these papers, that were completed last Friday, I came upon a sweet, loveable and tough little boy’s notable words…. His strengths were listed like most…”football, keeping friends and video games.”

The last section of the worksheet is titled, “Areas I Would Like to See Improve.” There had to be some innocent mental bantering going on between his ears, as his answers are NOTHING that an adult would ever conceive. These three blank spaces, that were intended to expose attributes the child hoped to grow in, were filled with the words:

1. Texas

2. The Desert

3. Mexico

This mini-guy must have given strong consideration to literal places that he thought needed some improvement. It never crossed his mind, after completing the top of the worksheet, to list attributes inside of him that might need some development or focused attention. And THIS is why I love fourth grade…. Because in the eyes of a ten year old boy Mexico and Texas need improvement while he is doing JUST FINE and absolutely content in mastering football and video games!

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Nothing's Changed

Yesterday was an anything but an average day. On regular days, I do not scrub toilets, finalize my Will and visit the pediatric cardiologist. Since Wednesday is the only day that I don’t work in fourth grade, my home of employment, it is the day that personal appointments are made and lose ends tied up. It does not feel like a day off, but time to play catch up with life’s business, cleaning, and laundry. I am not complaining because I am one hundred percent sure having an anything but average day, that contains good health, is nothing short of a ginormous generous blessing.

There was sunshine in my personal life, amongst the clouds that poured down inches of rain, pretty much all day long. This was not average Southern California October weather… to pack umbrellas and driving 55MPH on the 101 freeway. However, this was THE DAY we visited Lucas’ heart doctor. It feels wonderful to not ask my husband to accompany us…..we usually all go together. Honestly, the last couple heart visits have been pleasantly uneventful, and I can handle bantering with the doctor who has been become a friend over the last twelve years.

My son’s heart checked out, with the doctor declaring, “Nothing’s changed”, which in Lucas’ case equates to an A+ report. If this phrase “Nothing’s changed” were to describe diet results or school bullying, it would feel like a defeat, but when it comes to Lucas heart, we celebrate. These words carry the weight of receiving a 1900 on the SAT test. It means that we are gifted nine more months of heart free worry and able to focus completely on elementary school political campaigns, soccer practice and upcoming holiday joy….all because, nothing’s changed.

There were past visits to see this very same doctor, who sat us down after the same tense echocardiogram test, and explained how TOO much had changed, for the worse. Transport teams were offered, but my husband and I chose to drive his little broken heart to UCLA ourselves. Last time the transport team escorted him to the hospital, it felt like a federal emotional offense and my Mometer went berserk (See Blog titled More Mometer). Nothing close to that happened yesterday….the only transporting last night was me and a bottle of vino to my girlfriends home to share details of our regular healthy family lives.

Oh, and I can officially die without the fear of burdening my family with probate. We signed our Will and Trust yesterday afternoon. It feels eerie to finalize who gets  my wedding ring and clothes when I die. This legal business makes me an official responsible parent and grown up, doesn’t it? It  feels good to be alive, to hear good heart news, and have a death plan in concrete. As I said earlier, yesterday was anything but average, and thankfully, nothing has changed.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Change in Weather

As Southern California braces for the first storm of the season, I can only imagine what it feels like to live in bitter freezing weather. I am referring to a place where “cooler than average” is not considered 70 degrees on the thermometer. Like Michigan….now that would be a culture shock to me on top of being miserable. Southern California averages 80 degrees this time of year. I have suffered through the recent colder than average temps by simply not wearing flip flops outside. Socks and shoes put the brakes on feeling the lost ten degrees. Folks back east must laugh out loud when they watch our weather reports.

So here comes the rain…..time to drag in some fire wood and dig out my cozy Ug boots. I need to move the dog’s food and water bowls and shuffle the patio furniture around so it doesn’t get wet. The part I most dread with the seasonal shift is the cold and flu season that comes with it. Reading in the paper about the number of kids that have died or been hospitalized due to Swine flu has really put my mommy nerves on edge. My son has two of the three major risk factors that are linked to the deaths. I find myself phoning the pediatrician daily to see if they have received their allotment of H1N1 vaccinations. The pediatrician has promised them to my boys when, and if, they ever arrive. I feel like a six year old in the back of the car asking “Are we there yet?” with every call I make. Annoying, but I don’t like the idea of catching this flu bug and spending a single fall or winter day in the hospital.

My preparation for the predicted downpour will consist of tossing an umbrella and jacket in my car tomorrow morning. I think weather folks are blowing the whole situation out of proportion because they finally have something other than “sunny with early morning clouds” to report. Storm Watch will be breaking news for the next couple days here. Those icy people in Michigan would laugh at what we Californians call a storm.

Just an observation: I have noticed that female meteorologists in California have large perky chests, perfectly coifed hairdos and pretty faces. Why is that? Maybe that is so that the average southern California viewer will tune in to hear the exact same thing she said last night, only in a different colored tight sweater? For the next few days she is going to have to do more than point and smile, because it is finally going to rain in Southern California.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Lucas-Gate

Every day is a present just waiting to be opened. A fantastic gift hides inside, or a stink bomb ready to explode. You really don’t know what lingers inside until you start to unwrap it, one hour at a time.

Yesterday, when Lucas announced his desire to run for President of his school, I was thrilled…opening up a beautiful, glowing, and brand new outlook on his young life. All of a sudden the box appeared filled with excitement, hope and loads of encouragement. Today, while the daily gift was unwrapped, the stink bomb exploded and I would have preferred to crawl under a rock, than push forward with peeling away the wrapper.

Lucas’ 7th grade presidential campaign almost nosedived into political oblivion and I was suddenly wondering if I would be the “First Mother” or the “First Mother to Post Bail Bond.” Lucas is a quick wit, creative, loves to be the center of attention…he is intelligent and passionate about life. The backside of those qualities? He is impulsive. This is  toxic when combined with a physically absent middle school teacher and twenty five hormonal, awkward tweens crammed in one class room. When the teacher slipped out, the entire class saw it as a license to go berserk. Have you ever seen the movie Gremlins? It was something like that.

A friend suggested that Lucas jump on the desks… and then two other of these so called “friends” dared him to do it. Who doesn’t love a good dare? Lucas.

So, he burst out of his seat and jumped from desk to desk, messing up papers and entertaining his classmates like popcorn in hot oil. Once his performance ended, he sat in a chair that was pushed by a boy into a new table that broke under the intensity of his feet stopping the impact. It was a brand, new table, probably made in China.

In yesterday’s blog, I noted that he would make a great politician, due to the fact he was honest, could not cheat on his wife or have a homosexual affair. I failed to consider that he has a genetic trend toward Barnum and Bailey's Circus (I admit I ride a unicycle) and this does not always equate to a fantastic role model or upstanding leader.

“Maybe the political arena is not his calling…. maybe I should teach him the ways of the unicycle and juggling oranges?” I considered, for only a nanosecond.

The stink bomb had officially exploded, and the next thing I knew I was confronted by the principal (A.K.A. my boss, as I work in the fourth grade of his school). I did not relish this part of my day.

Smiling and nodding, I knew my boss was recanting the truth, what could I say? I wanted to crawl under that rock I mentioned earlier.  I had an understanding grimace on my face, as my insides felt weighted with disappointment like a bowling ball in quicksand. Then she mentioned the part about the cost of the new table and the fact he is running for school President. I explained he could forward his five dollar a week allowance until college to replace the table…. As for the privilege of running for school President? That was out of my hands. I completely understand that the ideal leader of the kindergarten through eighth grade student body should not have Jack Black tendencies. I assumed his political career would end at twelve, after two swimmingly successful political years serving as the Athletic Liaison and Vice President. What a let down.

Lucas is the honest kid I knew he was. After this happened he, and the other child involved, tracked down the principal and apologized, admitting their poor choices. They offered to pay for the table. They wrote letters of apology during recess without prompting. They felt guilty and were sincere in their act of contrition.

Hearing this, I felt a bit better, but still, why, why, why? I could not wait to get him in the car for the ride home to listen what was filtering in his head.

It feels like just yesterday I was praying that this very young lad would survive all his congenital heart issues, two open heart surgeries and ventilator dependency. I ALMOST felt fortunate to be in the position of watching him screw up his George Washington opportunity with foolishness. Crazy, huh? Perspective is in the eyes of the beholder in this unusual situation. But, don’t get me wrong. I was maternally disappointed in him. Deeply. Completely sad and droopy after all that upsetting information about my son. I came home, after putting in five hours at that school, and had a good cry on my bathroom floor with the door locked. Such is life. This is the way it goes. Most can accept that we all make mistakes, but could the staff forgive him for his lapse in judgment?

Lucas was repentant. He wanted so badly to continue his political future and run for the Student Council President, although I had kissed this notion good bye. I could not blame the administration if they impeached him before having a shot at serving his constituents. I was anxious and waiting to hear what would happen next … besides what had already been firmly determined:

1. Lucas lost the privilege of playing video games and using his i-Pod until the age of eighteen, or a few weeks, whichever came first.

2. Having to serve detention after school

3. Forgoing his $5.00 a week allowance for the rest of his life to pay for his part of the table

4. Hefty parental disappointment and undergoing intense discussion with his parents (Dad dealt with this situation beautifully)

5. The counting of his mere twenty-one dollars plus loose change in his piggy bank

6. Feeling like he blew it

The call came in on my cell phone, from the teacher in charge of the Student Council. Whew! He was still in the running, but would need to apologize for his circus behavior in front of the class tomorrow. Lucas became nervous wondering why he would need to do this. Here we go again from square one….blah, blah. Blah!!

Aahhhhhh… ..now he gets it (again). Apparently he really enjoys politics because he put his pen to paper immediately. Easy enough. He molded his words and I gave him strict instruction to have no jokes or sense of humor in delivery, but to be genuine, sincere, or there is no shot at the White House of Private School….his political career depended on it. Next he put together his presidential speech to deliver to the school in a couple weeks…it is due tomorrow to be reviewed and approved by the Student Council Queen. He had many great ideas, but I put the kibosh on him doing the Michael Jackson Moon Walk on his way to the podium. And the Worm.

“This is not summer camp Lucas, it is an election…. you have to be a responsible, trustworthy leader…a dramatic voice inflection is okay, dance moves, no way! NO MONKEY BUSINESS!! “

His practice run went well on both speeches….I will let you know what happens next.

Note to self: Should I be worried?

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

School Politics

After serving his year term as Vice President, my son decided not to run for a position on his school Student Council. Running for office and winning the past two years, he claimed to need a political sabbatical because he did not like how the weekly meetings interfered with his lunch break. Play time over politics.  I can’t lie…. I understood his reasons for not running, but I was disappointed. See, I was hoping that Student Council would be his niche, as he is a great leader….. so creative, innovative, smart and funny. Unlike real-life politicians he is honest, won’t cheat on his wife or have a homosexual affair. I thought his future in this arena looked bright. I did not nag him about it, but told him all the qualities I saw in him that made him a great candidate for any position. Please stay involved, I kept wishing….Still he wanted to goof off at lunchtime instead of planning Spirit days, like Wacky Wednesday, and mapping out future fund raisers. End of story.


Today was the final day that a student could turn in his petition to run for an office. This form simply requires 10 student signatures (constituents), two teacher endorsements and a parent’s signature. Parent’s having to bless the extra work load that comes with a win. This is the first time in three years there will be no campaign posters designed or spirited speeches written under our roof. The last two years Lucas has handled his own marketing campaign….coming up with the idea to “Step up and Vote for Lucas” was his slogan last year. He asked me to take a picture of him standing on a ladder. Cute, and it worked. Another year he handed out gummy candy eyeballs that said “Keep your eye on Lucas for Athletic Liaison.”

There there is this whole sweets campaign that goes on for one day, and one day only, where candidates bring in candy and pass it out to the student body in an attempt to sway the vote. It is parallel to Halloween night, but on a school day. Most of the 250 kids, whose parents are paying for a private education, are high on sugar most of this day. Every student loves this event that leads up to the LONG (sometimes boring ) speech assembly, then voting day, which is often held on the first Tuesday in November . It is treated like National voting day, but on a smaller scale. There are private voting polls all decorated in red, white and blue and students don an “I Voted” sticker when they are done casting their ballot. Very patriotic.

I received a cell phone text from Lucas at 11AM today, kindly asking if possible that I hustle down to school and  sign his student council petition that was due at noon today. He decided, at the very last possible minute, to run for school President!

What? Of course, I was willing to oblige his request. I scooted to school, anxious to find him.

My first question was, “What made you change your mind?”

He explained that a friend asked if he was running for office and when he said no, she encouraged him. Kaylee told him he should run because he is “really good at stuff like that.” A couple kids around him confirmed those words and Lucas was ready to hit the campaign trail. Basically, it was the same thing I had said a week ago, but now it was packaged by his peers, so it sounded more attractive.

“ I told you that you were a good leader,” I affirmed.

“ Mom, you tell me I am good at everything, so I have a hard time believing you sometimes.”

Regardless, our home is now officially Presidential Campaign headquarters.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Patrick Swayze

I just finished reading “The Time of My Life”, Patrick Swayze’s autobiography with his wife, Lisa Niemi. Being a teenager in the eighties, I was familiar with Patrick’s hit movies Ghost and Dirty Dancing, watching them both multiple times. My knowledge of this talented actor ended there. Biographies are my favorite reading, so I gobbled the back-story up on this hunky ballet dancing cowboy. That’s right, he was a rough cowboy whose nickname was Little Buddy, hid dad was Big Buddy, and he loved nature, horses, playing football and ballet dancing. Those hobbies just don’t fit together, but it worked out just perfectly for him.

While reading the book I started feeling blue inside, realizing that this genuine guy who wrote this story so beautifully had died. His book was released in September right after he lost his battle with pancreatic cancer. The book touched me so deeply that  I feel like I am going through a grief period over this complete stranger. It is sad to think he is gone.  He was such a neat guy….so un-Hollywood! His honest account of his insecurities and struggles touched me. Patrick was constantly pushing himself, and his fear of not measuring up was always present. The insecurities he felt were real ….not being loved for who he was on the inside , being really hard on himself .….and he was Patrick Swayze! He was so candid about his low self-esteem. I think every human has part of this struggle built in their DNA, unless you are Dennis Rodman or some either egomaniac -freak.

Patrick Swayze was also a drinker, mostly at times when he was feeling defeated or like a big loser he would sink into a boozy haze. Isn’t that normal for a lot of actors and many folks in general? It can be so numbing to have the demons in your head quieted with alcohol and he knew it too well. I appreciated the truth in his story, attending rehab and how alcohol almost destroyed him and his marriage.

Patrick Swazye met his wife when she was 15 and they married when she was 18! They honeymooned in the dirt, camping under a tent for a week, and they loved it. They started out so poor, artsy and simple …even when he made it big, he still kept a non-glitzy lifestyle. He craved his rugged outdoorsy groove at his horse ranch named Rancho Bizarro and reveled in the one love of his life. Having only one marriage in Hollywood is anything short of a miracle, and these two made it work for over 30 years! Knowing that fact made me curious enough to buy and read their story. How did they stay married all those years? I just had to find out. Their love story was my favorite part of the book and it is a testimony to their friendship, shared interests, struggles and strong commitment to one another. I feel sad for his wife, Lisa, over the loss of her husband and best friend… like I said, after reading this story,  I felt like I knew him personally and am sad Patrick succumbed to cancer after a 20 month battle.

Something that I took away from his story was the importance of keeping your dreams alive. Once achieved, or when you get as close as you will ever get, move on to the next dream. Don’t ever stop dreaming big for yourself….always chase the dream in front of you. That is what Patrick Swayze did over and over and over again.

Great Read!

Monday, October 5, 2009

Oh Poohey!

We are on a rotating schedule to maintain a poop-free yard and to insure that our two dauschunds, Sara and Goldie, receive fresh food and water every day. Each week one kid is in charge of food and water and my other son has to do poop duty. They have to unsoil the grass a couple times a week,(visitor pending), and the rule is that on Saturday the poop-picker-upper has to do a thorough clean up job before handing the dreaded poop utensils back to his brother. This system works for our family.

A few days ago, we were scrambling in the early morning, getting ready for school, taking care of dog duty and making lunches. Daniel announced, “It smells like poop!” he had moved on to practicing piano since his dog poop duty was complete. He declared twice while practicing "Michael Row the Boat Ashore,"  that he smelt something awful.

“Oh, Jeez," I thought, “One of the Wiener Sisters had an accident. I just know it was Sara, she thinks she can do whatever she wants with that Cattitude of hers. We have not had an accident in almost 8 months!”

I scan the area, particularly the big white carpet near to the piano for a fresh doggie load. No evidence is found on our white 8 X 10 shag. I regret buying that stupid rug every day of my post-house-fire life…. Overstock. Com sucked me in on a killer deal with a fabulously affordable sheik shag rug that I thought would bring my 1983 track house up to date. But it was a hasty horrible d├ęcor decision I must live with every day…. At least until my money tree starts blooming or house catches fire again. My Lesson learned? Never EVER utilize the color white where dogs and young boys are cohabitating.

“There is no sign of poop, Dan.” I declare.

I ignore the bad smell announcement, as I don’t stink a thing….it must be him. Minutes later, Daniel is in the den, and again he announces, “It smell like poop!”

Quickly examining the surrounding wood floors and huge rug ( Now it’s the other Overstock.com rug in shades of burnt orange and browns I am searching. All great color choices in this rug) I don't see, nor smell  anything  incriminating or suspicious.

My subconscious is moaning,” Go away poop smell, we do not have time for you.” I have no idea what his nose is picking up. I ponder.

“Daniel, did you brush your teeth this morning?” I suggest as I tuck the last PB&J in a lunch bag and run to the laundry room to pull out my cottons before they wrinkle.

Five minutes later Daniel is in his bedroom when he announces. “Mom, I smell poop!”

I am so puzzled at this point, but prefer to act like everything is normal. I truly CAN NOT smell anything out of the ordinary. Kids have such sensitive smellers, I think ….and then….

“Mom, there is some dog poop on my shoe.”

I walk to his bedroom, where he is sitting on his striped rug (Yet, ANOTHER other Overstock.com purchase that fits perfectly in his nine year old space and can hide many stains in its busy colorful stripes; great choice).

It is an understatement that he has SOME poop on his shoe, a result of his dog duties 20 minutes earlier. It looks more like he has lathered his bottom right shoe in dog doo, sort of bathed the undercarriage of his foot in it and then sensed the weight of something hiding underneath it and rubbed it over, and over onto the top of his left shoe, trying to scrape it off without knowing what was adhered….again he repeated the scuffing whatever it was off. It was two pounds of fresh daushcund wetness that now frosted both of his school shoes. I am positive that is what it was because I pulled a shoe off of his foot and pulled it into my nose in disbelief. I looked around my home and saw poop prints on my Overstock. Com rugs and in four different rooms. So he REALLY DID smell something that awful!

Suddenly, I had potty training flashbacks. Do you remember the first time your toddler went number two in his drawers and you earnestly tried cleaning them... thinking it was the right move to save the two dollars worth of Bob the Builder panties? That is the sort of routine a mother does ONLY ONE time because it is one of the most retched disgusting tasks she undertakes, then realizes that it is not worth the sensory torture. The next time it happens (and it does) , you toss the destroyed undies into a VONS bag and deliver them straight to the trash can.

THAT IS HOW I FELT.

There was NO WAY I was going to clean off these kiddie shoes I practically stole from Target 75% off, and try to salvage them at the risk of destroying my fragile nose and the next 24 hours of my life. (That is 24 precious hours that I can never reclaim.) Why just last weekend I ran these very shoes through the washer after Daniel returned from a weekend of swampy frog catching at camp. They returned a blackish-brown color. I was ready to toss the stupid cheap shoes, but my frugal husband gave me a guilt trip over giving up that easily. Engineers!!

Last week I did the best I could to resuscitate them . However, there is nothing I could do to save them now, they were on their own and heading straight to a VONS bag for an early death.

So the next time any child declares the stench of poop around him I a stopping in my tracks and taking off his shoes. It will be a much simpler sacrifice to delay making sandwiches and getting us out the door on time, than believing that ignorance is bliss.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Lucas' First Blog Post


Peeling my twelve year old from the television, I demand he find some other way to spend his free time. It’s a Monday night. His father and little brother are at an Adventure Guides meeting and I am perched in front of my computer. Trying to steer Lucas in directions that don’t include a screen (reading, sports, crafts, and laundry do not naturally interest him despite my nagging....and whittling wood and fire play is not an option). I suggest that he try writing, for the 27th time this month. He is a quick wit and I imagine nothing could be more entertaining than a tween boy’s real life perspective.

“What do I write about?” he moans, slowly showing interest.

“Sit down and write about your sliced finger. Tell me how you experienced it and what you remember about that day.”

He starts typing away and I am thankful I forced him to become intimate with Mavis Beacon (before video gaming and TV) over the lazy summer months. Despite having a stitched scabby index finger, thirty minutes later he has created the following account…ahem.


I have stitches
How???? Well…
The answer is a boy, tree, and a pocket knife. Yep, a pocketknife. I was up at Lake Sequoia, four hours from home. It’s near Bass Lake, and has some other camps within its perimeter. It’s a pretty big camp with archery, a rock wall, boating, swimming, fishing and a lot of other really fun things. It was about four o’ clock when we got there with my other friends. We unpacked and walked around this enormous camp. My friends started to whittle some sticks to make them sharp, so I asked my dad for his Swiss army knife. We whittled, and then went in the dining hall to check it out. It was pretty cool. My friend and I played Mancala; a marble board game.

It was around dinner time when my friend and I started shoving the pocket knife in a tree. I did not lock the pocket knife, and due to pressure the knife closed on my finger. About 5 seconds later I noticed the cut, it wasn’t too bloody…yet, but it was to the bone! I ran to my dad, finger up, applying pressure. (Aren’t I smart?) My dad wanted to know when it happened and where, but I screamed, “CAN WE FIX THE CUT???!!!”

So we showed one of the leaders, Ronny, and he cleaned up and bandaged the cut. I felt all cold and dizzy, but I didn’t faint. (Whoo.) About 10 minutes later we left for the hospital. It was supposed to be an hour away, but at 8:30 at night my dad got lost and we got there at like, 10:30. We checked in and all that stuff. They called me, my dad, and my little bro into a room. They asked about my medicine and medical past, but that’s a whole different story. When they took off the bandage wrap the nurse said “you need stitches,” before I could count to three.

We sat in the really miniature room and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Then finally someone came in to check on us and get our billing information. Then this other nurse came in to set up for the doctor, and clean up my finger. About 6 or 7 minutes later the doctors came to check on us. He told me to try to bend my finger. It was kind of hard, but after that my finger started bleeding really bad. He wanted to see if I cut one of my tendons, I did not, and I was HAPPY. Then, I had to use the restroom, which was challenging. When I returned, I got two numbing shots on both sides of my right-hand pointer finger. (Luckily, I am a lefty.) When my finger was numb and clean, he sewed the stitches in. I was scared, but it only took five minutes to put in all four stitches. It was really cool. We called my mom and told her everything, at around midnight when we got out of the hospital. We stayed at a hotel and got back to camp the next day around 9:30 in the morning. The rest of the camp was awesome! I couldn’t swim, but I didn’t care because I don’t like cold lake water anyway. I could do archery which was fun, and I got a couple of bull’s-eyes. (Yes!) That camp was amazing! I totally recommend it. It’s called Camp Sequoia.

So, that’s how I got stitches that stayed in my finger for a week and four days.

The End