Childhood: It's a warzone
Apr. 9th, 2007 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ailbheYesterday Emer was abandoned. We were in the back garden with Linnea, painting the playhouse, and Emer was asleep in our bed upstairs, where she usually sleeps. We opened all the doors and windows to be sure we'd hear her crying. Eventually we went in to wash the paint off the brushes and various things off Linnea, and I heard a faint whimper.
Emer had cried herself hoarse.
In fact, Emer had crawled backwards off the bed, landed feet-first on the floor, then crawled forwards the length of the bed, turned the corner, and by the time her useless, neglectful, loveless excuse for a mother decided on a whim to show up and fake responsibility, Emer had crawled half the width of the foot of the bed. I picked her up from the rug almost at the door, still crying, hoarse and miserable, with tears in the creases by her eyes and teartracks on her cheeks.
I may be a useless mother, but Emer doesn't lie around and let life happen to her; no. When something is wrong, she gets up and goes after the solution.
Today I went out to drop a leaflet off at the Workhouse, and had just been bought a second cuppa by another regular when my phone rang. Rob. "Come home right now Linnea's got a huge cut on her head and she's dripping blood!"
I ran.
On examination, and after much washing, Linnea appears to have a small scalp wound (hence "dripping blood") and we're all a bit shocked. Running home was very, very bad for my legs and my lungs but I'll be ok. Linnea was well enough to go to and enjoy the birthday party, though she needed Calpol in the evening.
I'm not a child but I was bitten by something (must be spring) and my earlobes have swollen up and I have an invisible but very irritating rash all over my face. It's not exactly itchy but it's very rough, hot and tight-feeling.
Emer had cried herself hoarse.
In fact, Emer had crawled backwards off the bed, landed feet-first on the floor, then crawled forwards the length of the bed, turned the corner, and by the time her useless, neglectful, loveless excuse for a mother decided on a whim to show up and fake responsibility, Emer had crawled half the width of the foot of the bed. I picked her up from the rug almost at the door, still crying, hoarse and miserable, with tears in the creases by her eyes and teartracks on her cheeks.
I may be a useless mother, but Emer doesn't lie around and let life happen to her; no. When something is wrong, she gets up and goes after the solution.
Today I went out to drop a leaflet off at the Workhouse, and had just been bought a second cuppa by another regular when my phone rang. Rob. "Come home right now Linnea's got a huge cut on her head and she's dripping blood!"
I ran.
On examination, and after much washing, Linnea appears to have a small scalp wound (hence "dripping blood") and we're all a bit shocked. Running home was very, very bad for my legs and my lungs but I'll be ok. Linnea was well enough to go to and enjoy the birthday party, though she needed Calpol in the evening.
I'm not a child but I was bitten by something (must be spring) and my earlobes have swollen up and I have an invisible but very irritating rash all over my face. It's not exactly itchy but it's very rough, hot and tight-feeling.