Dog bites and wayward baseballs

It wasn't a great day here yesterday, starting when Katie got bitten by a dog while biking back from her first day as a camp counselor, and ending with Joe getting hit in the nose with a baseball while playing in the Tri County League.

First, the dog bite: Katie called me, crying, to ask if I could come get her right away because a German Shepherd had run out of its yard and across the street, chased her on her bike and bitten her, puncturing her shorts and making a bloody gash on her leg. Camp Lewis Perkins, the Girl Scout camp where Katie works, is close, right down Woodbridge Street, so I got there within minutes. We put the bike in the car and I knocked on the door of the house that the dog had run back into. The owner said that had never happened before (it shouldn't happen once!) and that the dog was current on his shots. I got his name and said I expected him to pay for any doctors' visits. He said he would.

When we got home, Katie recovered pretty quickly, but I couldn't stop shaking, my heart beating. I called the dog officer, who said Katie should go the the doctor and that I should send him the medical bills to be forwarded to the dog owner. So she went and got a tetanus shot and a prescription for antibiotics. Rabies is not a concern so much as infection. The doctor said she should come back in a week.

That night, Joe came home from baseball and asked me if I thought his nose was straight. Huh? It was straight, but he did have a bruise where a baseball had hit him. While he went to ice it and I brought him his dinner in the den, concerned now about him, we had a laugh over the time when he was a little kid and pretended that his nose was broken. He had been acting up, and I had given him a little push towards the stairs so he would go up to his room. Acting as though the push had propelled him against the wall across the room, he came back to me in the den with his little nose crooked and his hand holding on to it.

I freaked. "Oh my god, I broke your nose!" I cried. Game over, he let go of his nose and it popped back into position. The little comedian had been holding it so it looked crooked, just to make me have the reaction that I had.

Last night he said it was kind of like they were kids again. One had an accident riding a bike and the other had one while playing baseball.

Not to diminish the scare of the dog bite, I thought about how lucky we are to live in this peaceful valley and have such problems on a sunny summer day. I cannot imagine what it must be like for mothers whose children are getting shot in war zones around the world.

Who thought they would fly away?

When you are pregnant, many people are compelled to tell you their terrible childbirth story. I love to tell mine too, and it was a doozy each of three times, but I don't tell pregnant women unless they really really have a ghoulish desire to hear it. Sometimes it is fun, but only if both sides want to talk.

As my last child approaches graduation and heads for college, I am afraid that when she leaves I will just collapse. I went from that pregnant woman to a mother of three. The house was chaotic. They ran all around the house, participating in school theater and music (Katie) and playing baseball (Ben and Joe). The rides, the fights, the sunflowers spilling from the pockets of baseball pants, the costumes, the ice cream trips, and the wonderful moments where I wasn't exhausted and they all got along.

One left, then the other. It was hard to see them go, but at least there was one left. I know, this is great: They are successful well-rounded really nice kids. This is how I brought the up to be, right up to the part when they spread their wings and fly. But it's not totally true. I basically did not bring them up to leave. I had them for my enjoyment. Well, of course, I knew they would leave. But the time seemed so far away, I thought it never would come. I was too busy pulling Legos out of my feet.

Katie and I have spent the past few weeks looking at the mail for either a big envelope (good) or a little one (rejection). She's just about done with her college search. She is trying to decide between two excellent choices. It's been stressful.

On top of it is the busy-bodies with their prediction of my desolation. Some say, "I know we've already talked about it, but I still keep thinking about how sad you'll be when Katie goes away." Some just point it out as though it's a new thought for them.

I have no wall against this. So then, the wood planks on the floor sound creakier each time I step on certain ones. The house feels emptier. Bad idea to live through tomorrow's problems today, so I should stop. Hopefully, I will be busier and get my activities back.

I told the person who last brought it up that I am certain I will go to bed, pull my covers over my head and become a recluse who depends on food brought in occasionally.

Let's hope I was wrong.