The happyhaunts go South... the endless trip report!

[Csaks]

An Irish Girl, that explains alot and Canadian to boot! I married one as well. Go figure our anniversary is St. Paddy's Day, I can never forget and there is always a party somewhere close by!
I digress, You have a gift for writing a great story. I love the way I'm transported to Disney through your eyes and your families anticts. It makes waiting for next year easier.

Chris.

P.S. I hope the kids are doing better. Boys will be Boys!

 

[mom2boystx]

First, I hope that all is well with Tommy! Nothing like 2 boys tearing it up in the house...til someone gets hurt! I have 2 of them too and it always happens!

I, like so many others, have so enjoyed your reports! I must say that your last post re: packing for home is what had me crying I was laughing so hard. My boys DO fling their 'sock balls' around the room when they take them off...no matter what room they are in! I completely understood everything you had going on, esp finding them in all of the odd places they were! I am always amazed at where they end up here at the house. And of course all I ever hear is 'mom, I don't have any socks!' Well of course not, they are strategically lost throughout the house!!!!!
Can't wait to see where they end up in our resort room! I will be sure to check for a bible bookmark though

We are headed to the World in October for our boys first trip for their birthdays...shhhh..it's a surprise! And we will celebrate our 10th anniv where we honeymooned!

Guess I will be wandering around whispering 'Maelstrom'...don't know if anyone else hear is going in October too????

Look forward to the May trip details!
Peggy

 

[1000thhappyhaunt]

Part 2:

As we entered the building I could see a large crowd of people standing in the hall outside the doctor's office. And, through the glass of the door, I could see the entire waiting room was full. Packed. Already. And it's pretty early in the morning, still. Like 9am. But, we didn't have much of a fight to get through the crowd. They parted like the Red Sea when they saw the blood. Nothing can get you through a crowd faster than blood. Except vomit. That works well, too. In fact, I may just try one or the other in May, at the Animal Kingdom, to get on EE quicker. Vomit is a FASTPASS. So... we walk in and head straight to the receptionist who is expecting us. The General put in a call to her while I was throwing clothes on Tommy and myself. Plus she's a friend of The General's. A fellow Churchlady. The General is a big churchgoer. Most of her social life revolves around church, funerals, bazaars, bake sales, flea markets, women's bible study groups, etc. Yep. If I didn't know her better... I'd SWEAR she was goin' to Heaven. Heh, heh. Oh, come on... you KNOW I'm kidding. Not even God himself could keep The General out of Paradise. If she decided that's where she was going. So we're expected here at the doctor's. There was the expected squealing of "Oh, Mel!!!! Haven't seen you in AGES! This must be your youngest?! Is THIS Tommy? He is SOOO cute! The Doctor will be right with you... have a seat." Ok. Thanks. Good to see you too, Churchlady! I don't know her name. They all look alike to me. Grey permed hair. Glasses. Sweater. Skirt. Shoes. Chin whiskers. Yada. But... I had to laugh... 'cause Tommy has DEFINITELY had CUTER days. I mean, he's covered in blood, sniffling into a towel which was mostly covering his head. Yep. Adorable! Some nice man gets up to let me sit down holding said whimpering bloody child on my lap. Everyone stares at us in silence. Complete utter silence. The General is over at the desk holding court with her crony. They keep looking over at us and then talking amongst themselves... very quietly. I'm now sure that by Sunday the whole town will know what happened at West Point. And how I am to blame. Sigh! What can you do? Small town. We wait for a bit longer. With everyone still staring. Until I could no longer take it and decided to start speaking to everyone in the waiting room. "Hi. This is Tommy. He fell down. His older brother was chasing him. He hit the corner of a table and cut his head open. He'll be getting some stitches today." There. I felt much better. But that was the cue. That was all it took to start EVERYONE in the room talking at once. Together. At me. To me. And Tommy. Small town. I told you. After three older women told him what a "brave, brave boy" he was... the Churchlady mercifully appeared at the doorway and told us to go right in to the office. Appears we get go to the front of the line again. 'Cause one of us is still bleeding. My Mother comes along. After all, this is HER Doctor. But he was also MY childhood Doctor. In fact, I have the dubious honour of being his FIRST patient in this small Ontario town. Yep. I was four years old. He was brand new in town from Scotland. New office. No patients. We were new in town, too. I ate something I shouldn't have and BINGO... I became his FIRST patient. It was coins. I ate some coins. The General will tell you... it was 37 cents. Dimes, nickels and pennies. She figured it was gonna pass right through me but decided to check with someone anyway. Plus... she wanted a family doctor. It wasn't really an emergency. Thought the coins would come out and, apparently, they did. All 37 cents were recovered and accounted for. 'Nuff said. And... he has remained our family physician since. Knows us all quite well. And was just wonderful when my Father had cancer. My Mother likes him. A lot. Because they are cut from the same tough and prickly cloth. He NEVER smiles. He's very gruff. But kind. A good doctor. Has made many, many housecalls for our family. And, probably, every other patient he has in town. But... I LOVE to bug him. I love to butter him up. Because he HATES it. Absolutely. It's fun. For me. But, I hadn't seen him in many years. So when he saw me he nearly... NEARLY... smiled. And asked me how much money I had had for breakfast. I told him that usually I eat $1.35 in change but that I had missed breakfast today due to my small son and his bleeding head. Then I told him that it was absolutely wonderful to see him and... WOW... I thought he had a GREAT TAN! And that he hadn't aged in fifteen years. He scowled at me. I smiled sweetly back. You see, the waiting room was SO packed because he had been away for two weeks on vacation. Somewhere HOT, apparently. Like the Fires of Hades. Because he was slightly more tanned than George Hamilton. Eeek! Made me rethink my own passion for the sun for a minute, let me tell you. Geez. You'd think DOCTORS would know better, wouldn't you? Anyway... he pried the towel off of Tommy's head and cleaned him up a bit. Tommy was being such a trooper about not crying but started screaming, again, with the cleaning part of it. Man! I felt so sorry for him and it looked so gross. Gotta say. So Dr. Scotsman is looking, poking and looking around some more. Finally says, "He'll need some stitches. Definitely stitches! Now... I can do it here right away if you want. But, it's his face. Do you want to see a plastic surgeon first?" Yes please! Because Tommy is SO pretty. I couldn't bear the idea of a bad scar. So he said that he'd call his friend who is a plastic surgeon, in the neighbouring city, and we could go and see him. He tried calling three times but, strangely, couldn't get through. So he wrote me a note, stamped and signed it and told me to bring it to the hospital and that they would contact the plastic surgeon and set it up for us. Okay. Thanks, Dr.! So he bandages up Tommy and pats him on the leg. Tells him that he'll be fine. That he's a much better patient than his mother ever was. Winks at my Mother. Says we can leave. I ask him for a hug and he says "Get out of here, Mel!" in his gruff Scottish accent. I like him. We troop out, pile back in the car and head back to West Point. I drop The General off, pick up juice and crackers for Tommy, tell Calvin that it's OK (because he's still crying about Tommy!) grab a hairbrush and ponytail holder and take off for the hospital. I'll have to trust The General to deal with Calvin's emotional trauma today. And that is a scary prospect... but one that cannot be avoided. We head for the city. Me and brave little Tommy. Who has decided the wound on his forehead shall be henceforth called a "crack". He is, apparently, a "crack head". So he tells me. We arrive at the hospital in record time and park by the Emergency Entrance... and Crackhead and I go into the building.

To be continued.

 

[labdogs42]

Every year we have a Blarney Breakfast as a fundraiser for a local charity. It is always great fun, and you get a souvenir coffee mug.

Can you refill your coffee mug from year to year like the DMVC? (oh wait, that should go in Zzub's thread! )

BTW, I hope Tommy is OK. I can't wait to hear the rest of the story. Your life is certainly never boring!

 

[HaleyB]

Tommy sounds like a tough kid.

Another way to part a crowd at Disney (possibly anywhere) is to cough loudly several times and them comment to your spouse in a rather louder than needed voice that you think the T.B. medication must be working because there wasn't any blood this time.

 

[IlluminationsUK]

Vomit is a FASTPASS

 

[sunny04]

Who has decided the wound on his forehead shall be henceforth called a "crack". He is, apparently, a "crack head".

Okay...you've said some funny things in this report, but I think that might be the funniest.

 

[1000thhappyhaunt]

Part 3:

Tommy and I enter the hospital by way of the Emergency Department. That's where we were told to go. There was already a line in front of the desk where you check in for Triage. Crackhead and I join it and prepare for the endless waiting which I'm sure is in store for us. Starting... now. But we were pleasantly surprised when the nurse looks up from talking with Pale Man in Certain Back Pain to address us.

Nurse: Are you two named Tommy and Mel?
Me: Uhhh... what you talkin' 'bout Willis?
Nurse: Dr. Scotsman called us and told us to expect you any minute.
Me: Wow. No way?! (Did I mention that there are some benefits to small-town life?)
Nurse: The plastic surgeon is in the building and will see you shortly.
Me: That's GREAT! Thanks so much. Shall we go sit in the waiting room?
Nurse: No. Come right through here so we can check Tommy in.
Me: Giddyup!

Now everyone in earshot is looking at me like they would like to give ME a cranial laceration. Then eat my thirdborn. But I don't give a half of a crap. I am GOLDEN today. I am a friggin' FASTPASS. I am jumping every freakin' line I come to today!!!!! Or so I thought. I am an optomistic freakin' idiot. As it turns out. So we go into Triage and do the paperwork, get Tommy's vitals, show her his crack, find out that he now weighs exactly 42lbs. Fully clothed and crusty with blood. Then we get to go directly to the next station where I hand his OHIP card to the lady and she hands him a hospital bracelet and an assortment of ladybug and happy face stickers. Tommy is suddenly very happy. He looks at his new friend, "I was this for Hallowe'en!" He points to a red ladybug. "Ohhhh! You were a little ladybug?!" She asks. Tommy looks fiercely offended, "No. I'm a BOY. Not a GIRL. I was a manbug." Oh ferGodsake. He wasn't. He was a flippin' bumblebee. I even painted a foam cone black and glued it on his butt so he could sting his siblings. Apparently Crackhead is no entomologist. She apologizes and asks us to go and sit in the waiting room until the plastic surgeon comes down. Ok. Thanks. Tommy brings his new stickers and plants himself in a chair beside me and starts to peel them off and stick them to his body parts. He's all happy now. I'm fairly relieved so I begin to people watch. The waiting room is nearly completely full. There's your usual assortment of patient types. A young couple with a feverish looking baby. Old people. Couple of teenage girls. Some mothers and children. None of which are bleeding. Good. Good. Then out of the corner of my eye I spied trouble. For me. Because... while I had neither washed my face nor brushed my teeth, except with gum on the way to the hospital, I had clearly not forgotten my "special" pheromones. There were two guys sitting over to my left. Both were either drunk, half-witted or plain nuts. Dirty. One had his hand wrapped in a filthy towel. They were both staring intently in my direction. I continued to watch them out of the corner of my eye. That's when I realized one of them was wearing a grey Mickey Mouse sweatshirt. Ah ha!!!! Maybe it's not the pheromones. Perhaps we can just sense our own kind. Heh, heh. And that's when it hit me. Maybe it was my shirt. 'Cause in my haste to get Tommy to the doctor, I had grabbed the first shirt I saw and threw it on. It was a white t-shirt of Beth's. And I was as braless as a hippychick in Hair: The American Tribal Rock Musical. Oh lord. My beeboos were showing. (heh, heh. Slipped that one by the filters!) I slowly slipped my scarf and coat back on and prayed they would lose interest. The one with the Mickey shirt actually leaned closer and stared even more. I leaned down to Tommy and whispered, "Ten, nine, eight, seven... wait for it... six, five..."

Crazyeyes: What happened? He fall?
Me: Yep. (Sigh)
Crazyeyes: That's a big bandage.
Me: Yep.
Crazyeyes: He gonna get stitches?
Me: Yep.
Crazyeyes: What's his name.
Me: Vince.
Tommy: It's not Vince, Mommy. My name is Tommy.
Me: Yep.
Crazyeyes: Hi Tommy.
Tommy: Hi.
Crazyeyes: What's your Mommy's name?
Me: Yep.
Tommy: It's Mommy. You can call her that.
Me: Yep.

Mercifully, at that moment, we were rescued by the nurse from Triage. She walked over to me with a fistfull of papers and told me that they were mistaken and that the plastic surgeon was, in fact, NOT in the building but that they had spoken to him at his office and we could head over there now. So he could take a look at Tommy's crack. But she referred to it as a laceration. Ok. I got directions from her and we practically RAN out of Emergency and to the car. And away from the dirty man who was going to call me Mommy. Jumped in the car and drove about ten minutes to our new destination. Jumped out of the car and walked in. And discovered a crowd of patients waiting to see the plastic surgeon. A bunch of police-types and detective-types and a VERY harried looking doctor and receptionist. His office had just been robbed. However... we were STILL golden:

Receptionist: Are you Tommy and Mel?

Heh, heh. They were waiting for us. The Emergency Nurse had told them we were heading over and would be there any minute. Head of the line, baby!!!! It's a bloody FASTPASS, again. Literally.

To be continued. 'Cause I haven't even gotten to the part with the prisoner, yet. Oh... and my reunion with Crazyeyes...

 

[Alysa]

So funny - you made my night. Scared that I have all this fun to look forward to with my own seemingly innocent babes. Hope Tommy is feeling better tonight. Take care and thanks for sharing. GREAT sense of humour - what a gift to be able to laugh at stuff like this...
PS. If Mel doesn't like harmless fellow Canadian DIS board members knowing your name or where you live, how does he feel about crazyeyes?

 

[1000thhappyhaunt]

So funny - you made my night. Scared that I have all this fun to look forward to with my own seemingly innocent babes. Hope Tommy is feeling better tonight. Take care and thanks for sharing. GREAT sense of humour - what a gift to be able to laugh at stuff like this...
PS. If Mel doesn't like harmless fellow Canadian DIS board members knowing your name or where you live, how does he feel about crazyeyes?

Just so you don't feel that Crazyeyes has one up on you, Alysa... this picture of CALVIN playing HOCKEY this year is a hint of where we live:

You might be able to figure it out. I think. Mel.

 

[Alysa]

Doh!
I am a huge Leafs fan but I can't watch the games because then they lose. Same with Team Canada - I am a confirmed hockey curse. I can only watch recorded games or listen to my DH hollering in the living room. So I am not up on my junior leagues yet and DS is only one month old - he still has at least two years before we strap skates on him.

He does have a Leafs sleeper and jersey already though.

So close and yet so far!! Well where ever you are, have a great night and thanks again!

 

[jes77]

To be continued. 'Cause I haven't even gotten to the part with the prisoner, yet. Oh... and my reunion with Crazyeyes...

Oh My!! This just keeps getting better ... surely it can't get any worse ... or can it

This is so reminding me of when my brother was running in our grandparent's house and fell into a bench with HIS head - he was about 3 ... there was blood everywhere and the screaming and the fainting and the concussion ... yea - good times

(Oh ... well ... I was like 8 and I had never seen that much blood before and how was I to know I would faint and how can I help it if my head bounced on the floor several times before anyone got to me ... so yes they then had 2 going to the emergency room ... and did I mention, I had been playing in my grandmaw's makeup and had more on than Tammy Faye Baker )

 

[princesslibby]

"crackhead","manbug" and "mommy"!
Tommy is just too funny. Hope he's fine.
Can't wait for more "crazy eyes".

libby

 

[pongoperdigirl]

I hope all works out well for you guys!!!

 

[1stTimeDisneyer]

Great first CrackHead and now CrazyEyes! What will be next?

Hey Mel only 46 days until Disney! And I am going to find a paint brush!

 

[1000thhappyhaunt]

Great first CrackHead and now CrazyEyes! What will be next?

Hey Mel only 46 days until Disney! And I am going to find a paint brush!

I KNOW!!!! I KNOW!!!! I forced my whole family to join in and do the 50 Day Dance on the weekend. DH was reluctant to be so silly and gave me a weak little goofy jig. The kids were all in. So... I reached over and twisted DH's nipples to make him dance faster/better. Didn't work. He chased me around the house, instead. Then caught me. Gave me the 'ol CLAW TREATMENT. Ouch. So now... instead of the 50... or 40... or 20... Day Dance... we call it the Countdown Beatin'!!!! I'm planning a Surprise 45 Day Countdown Beatin' for him, tomorrow. Shhhhh! Don't tell DH.

Are you challenging me with the Paintbrush thing? 'Cause YOU KNOW how competitive we are?! Your "reluctant" hubby better be all in... if that's what you are doin'. 'Cause we'll kick your A$$! Heh, heh. Should make for a good chapter in the 'ol trip report though. Love ya, mean it! Mel.

 

[labdogs42]

I get to do the 50-day dance/beating on Friday!! I can't wait!! I still can't believe what an exciting life you lead, Mel. You are cracking me up with a tale from the ER -- I should be biting my fingernails worrying about Tommy, instead I'm cracking up about crazyeyes and you with mo bra on!! You are a riot! I can't wait for the rest!

Setting myself on fire for you as your humble fan...

 

[1000thhappyhaunt]

Part 4: (Listen... before anyone gets mad at this: It's STILL "technically" a Trip Report. It's to the hospital and not WDW. Granted. But it's a trip of sorts, nonetheless. And there are FASTPASSES, Mickey garb and some "characters". Ok, then? Let's giddyup!)

As we entered the plastic surgeon's office, we discovered that there was a problem. The doctor and his receptionist had arrived at work that morning to find that they had been looted, robbed, pilfered, extorted, yada. They were very upset and, understandibly, stressed out. And I felt really bad for them. I don't believe in looting. Or robbing. Well... except for The Cradle. And then ONLY if the "victim" is seventeen, blond, long-haired, sings in a band and drives a motorcycle. And the robber is, like, 21ish. But... I digress. Again.

(What is this? It's a NEW paragraph! Well, howdy-hoo! And a golly wally ding dong too!) All of their equipment was gone. The computer, the printer, the photocopier etc. Everything. Even the phone. That was why my dear Dr. Scotsman couldn't get through earlier. I guess. Because I heard the receptionist say that she borrowed a phone from one of the other offices in the building. So I gave her Tommy's OHIP card and all the paperwork from the hospital and we waded through the crowd and sat down on the couch. Again, thanks to the huge bandage and crusty bloody hair and shirt that Crackhead was sportin'... we had NO trouble getting a seat. Golden! In fact, we ended up with a whole couch to ourselves. Ha, ha, ha! People were standing around... so I just HAD to say, "Anyone want to sit down here? Cause the blood is mostly all dried by now... you probably won't get any on you." Heh, heh. I'm a crazed lunatic. I know.

I decided to try and give DH a call to tell him what was up. I debated the issue for awhile, though. I mean, he was all the way in another city hard at work. He wouldn't be able to come here, anyway. Or do anything. And I KNEW his day would be ruined worrying about our sweet little Crackhead. 'Cause he's got a serious soft spot for the Bama. Our baby. The smallest of the happyhaunts. DH doesn't realize how resilient this one particular child is. He IS tough. But I knew, also, that I would want him to call me if the situation were reversed. So I phoned. And he freaked. But in a manly way. I swear. The uncontrollable sobbing only lasted minutes. To make him feel better about everything I put Tommy on the phone. And I restrained myself from referring to him as "Crackhead" at this particular juncture. Tommy happily grabbed the phone to start chatting with Melman. What I heard was this:

Tommy: Hi Daddy...Yep...I'm ok... Running... Calvin tried to kill me... Lots of blood... Big crack... Old brown guy... Mommy says...

And I grabbed the phone back immediately. I explained that Calvin was not ACTUALLY trying to kill off his younger male sibling to eliminate any competition. This is not The Lion King. Although, life's greatest adventure IS finding your place in the Circle of Life. This was just one of those crazy things that can happen. Sometimes. I told DH we would keep him up to date and hung up. Poor DH. His day was now completely shot. But what could I do? I looked around at all the people who had been sitting quietly, listening to our phone conversation. I wondered what they were thinking. Doot doot doot dee doo...

"Tommy!" The receptionist called and we got up and joined the frazzled plastic surgeon in his office. He asked how Dr. Scotsman was. I said "Tanned." He unwrapped Tommy's crack and got out some cleaning stuff and a light and a big magnifying thingie. Cleaned, Tommy screamed, looked, hummed and hawed. Then asked me to take a look at "the laceration" through the magnifying thingie. OH SWEET FANCY MOSES! Bigger than life... and twice as ugly!!!! Just like Jason Voorhees. Jason. Friday the 13th. The BEST date movie. Ever. Trust me. Anywho... I looked. Threw up in my mouth a little. And said, "Ok. What's the plan?" He said, "There's a good chance of scarring here. I won't kid you. And he may not grow hair in the eyebrow where the scar is. But, frankly, I don't do stitches in these situations anymore. I can see him in a week or so and we can go from there to deal with the scarring. I can call the hospital and talk to the emerg doctor there and give him my opinion." I sighed. Well, fine. Whatever. Why were we here, then???? Wrap him back up and the plastic surgeon goes into another room where I can hear him calling the hospital back. I listened as best I could and heard that Tommy would be requiring "internal" stitching. Ohhh. I knew ALL about that. From childbirth. Super. Back to the hospital we go. Giddyup.

I call The General on the way to have a word with Calvin. Who I just KNEW would be having a crappy day just about NOW. The General was really worried too and said that both Beth and Calvin were moping around. And that Calvin was crying off and on and nothing she was saying seemed to be helping. So I asked to talk to Calvin. He started crying on the phone and apologizing for chasing Tommy around. I said that it wasn't his fault. That accidents happen all the time. That Tommy was OK... BUT... that he shouldn't have been running on the 2nd floor of West Point. He knows the drill. Then I suggested he and Beth make Tommy a card or gift or something. To keep them busy and make them feel useful. And I let Tommy talk to Calvin. I heard:

Tommy: Hi Calvin!... I OK... Uh huh... Uh huh... That's OK... Your penguin... a monkey... yep... Uh huh... OK... I love you too... Me too... bye.

Ahhhhh!!!! All was well. A Disney moment. If we were at Disney. And Tommy wasn't a Crackhead. And it wasn't a freezing cold Canadian winter day... and there wasn't blood EVERYWHERE. And I had a bra on.

I drive the rest of the way to the hospital. Park again. Using my same prepaid parking ticket. I kept it because I prepaid for 24 hrs. Yep. 24. Because it's not my FIRST BBQ. I'm an occasional user of the Ontario Health System. I know the ropes. I KNOW about waiting. In fact, the system itself seems to be structured so that you never actually get into the bowels of the emergency dept. They make you wait so long it seems they hope you actually die in the meantime... or else give up and go home. To die. I've been through it many times. Having had pregnancies, miscarriages, babies, parents, a DH who plays sports, boys, boys, boys etc. Did I mention that I have two boys? Three... if you count my "let's break a leg, really really badly, playing hockey" of a DH. Calvin used to eat strange things as a little toddler, too. Just like his Mama. Calvin does NOT fall far from the tree. Anyhow... I'm about five visits away from having my own dedicated parking spot near the Emergency Entrance in our own town.

We troop back in through the Emerg Entrance and see another long line at Triage. Remember that we are STILL GOLDEN, though. The nurse sees us and says she'll take us to the Minor Procedures Room as soon as it's available. Ok. Fine. I take a quick glance around to make sure Crazyeyes and Company are gone and then sit down. Ahhhh. We wait about 20 minutes and then the nurse comes over and says, "OK, let's go to the special room we have for these things." I ask her if it's sound-proofed. 'Cause I'm pretty certain that the "Minor Procedure" is going to entail a "Major Racket".

To be continued... The Very Dangerous Handsome Man in cuffs and leg irons is next up.

 

[LaLa]

Poor Tommy and his funny Mommy.

 

[honeybee213]

You're killing me!

After stitching the eyebrows of two 4 year old girls in the ER last month, I sure hope that procedure room is soundproof, and has some big burly men to hold "crackhead" down