"That was soooo cool!" The Scribe reminisced about it yesterday.
"I know," The Hippie said. "She looked like Puss in Boots when he's being all sweet!"
So, while we talked about this, I had a very busy moment. The Zombie Elf did a potty-dance. Doctor Jones (my one-year-old) sky dived from the top of my couch. My girls chattered on and on, while I thought I'd lose my mind.
"How long did her eyes stay dilated like that?" The Scribe asked.
"A few hours." I murmured after just catching Doctor Jones since she doesn't have a parachute.
The Scribe nodded. "I want to get my eyes dilated too. I could do anything I wanted for one whole day. Who can say 'no' to those eyes? I'd go to the amusement park, get FREE cotton candy. I'd win things without even playing the games, because my eyes would be the prize!"
"You know the day Melynda had her eyes dilated?" The Hippie suddenly asked. "Well one never went back. The black part is still big."
"Her eye's been hurting bad, Hon." I said. "But hopefully things will be better after today."
"What are they doing to her?"
"They have to remove scar tissue, fix the lens."
The Scribe chimed in. "Mr. P said they'll pull her eye out, work on it and then put it back in. That sounds like it might hurt."
"Poor, Melynda!" The Hippie suddenly screamed. "Poor . . . me!"
"What? Poor you? This isn't about you; it's about Melynda."
"Listen," my dramatic Hippie said. "Once, years ago, Melynda told me to stop looking at the sun because it could hurt my eyes. Well, I like the sun. I really like it and I didn't listen, Mom. I bet Melynda was trying to save me, because she was just like me when she was a kid. Now I'll need that surgery too. They'll pull my eye out of my face and maybe even give me a glass eye or an eye that's the wrong color!"
I wanted to ask more, but The Zombie Elf had heard us talking about his beloved Melynda. He burst from the bathroom--NAKED (shocker)--and ran out the front door. "Linda!" He screamed. "Linda, you all right? Your eye. Your eye."
"Get your butt back in here." I ran after him and a bunch of reserved neighbors watched as I dragged my naked three-year-old through the front grass and back into the house. They looked at me like child protection should be their next option and I slammed the door.
When I got back inside, I watched in slow motion as Doctor Jones jumped from the arm of the couch. She jumped high--for a baby--living true to the name of Dr. Indiana Jones. She stayed mid-air for a moment, at the peak of her jump. I dove then too, trying to cushion her fall, but that floating baby was too far away. She descended slowly--one of those split-second moments that last forever. I remembered Zeke then, the day he was born, the day he died.
I prayed as fast as I could. "God please don't take another one of my babies. I prayed all that, and right as the baby fell, The Scribe jumped in the way and softened the fall.
"We don't want two family members in the hospital. Is the baby okay?" The Scribe trembled, holding our baby in her arms. I thought that was so sweet; she referred to Melynda as family.
The baby did seem all right. She just stared at all of us crowding around her.
"She isn't moving," The Scribe continued. "Grandma always talks about brain damage. How do we know if the baby has it?"
"Her pupils will go really big."
The Scribe turned to me and scoffed. "That isn't a sign of brain damage. That's a sign of awesomeness. Melynda's one pupil is always big and she's one of the smartest people I know!"
So, Melynda called later and everything turned out all right. I'm so glad she's okay. It hit me then, how she really is like a member of our family. I went over to visit her and when I got back, The Hippie asked, "Does she have a glass eye?"
"Did they put in someone else's eye, like a brown one, or a pink one?"
"So, she's all better?"
"She's still recovering, but she'll be fine now. They gave her a patch to wear over her--"
"A patch?" The Scribe clutched after every detail. That's even cooler than dilated eyes! Now she's part pirate!"
We love you, Melynda. Get feeling better.
Here are some silly pictures of us together.
If you're wondering who's who, I'm the victim.
Melynda's one tough chick!
Oh, and The Hippie's in front of us. Big shocker. She dressed herself that morning.
Pictures taken by Shear Luck Enterprises