Marriage, MomLife

The Splinter

My heart is literally breaking right now.

My badge of Mother stomped on by the tiny foot of my 5 year old daughter, and then urinated on by my husband.

This afternoon my daughter came running into the house from the back yard. She was crying.

Since she cries all the time, I really thought nothing of it.

She had a breakdown yesterday because one of the Q-tips on her art project to make a bone representation of the letter X had fallen off. She’s dramatic.

I walk into my bedroom, where she is no longer crying, and she peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

I start to put the laundry away that I had brought in with me and ask her why she was crying?

She walks up to me with a pouty face and makes me promise her that I won’t call the doctor and then tells me she wants her dad.

I gave her a hug and promised not to call the doctor, but told her that her dad was not home (she already knew this).

She starts a light sob and the shows me the bottom of her foot, where I find the largest splinter I have ever seen in my life. It had to be a good 2 to 2 1/2 inches long.

After I take a look, and try to fix my face from horror to calm, she makes me promise a second time not to call or take her to the doctor, and now she includes not getting any shots.

I tell her I promise and include these new terms.

I spend the next hour trying to persuade her to let me remove it.

She doesn’t want me to touch it, so I decide to try and put an icepack on her foot to numb it and see if I can use a needle and tweezers to get it out.

It didn’t work.

I tried everything I could to distract her. I put on her favorite show. I gave her a lollipop. I ran out of distractions. Nothing worked.

I didn’t want to force her and I didn’t want to bribe her either.

I know that I can promise her a trip to get ice cream or to the store for a brand new toy would probably do the trick, but I want her to trust me, as her mother.

I am trying to build a bond!

I am obviously a very dumb person.

I don’t want to lie to her either. I tell her it will hurt a little, but not as much as it hurts now. And it will feel better when the splinter is out.

That didn’t seem to help my case.

I decide to give up for now, and wait for her dad to come home so that he can help me.

I am obviously not the sharpest tack in the box.

I’ve been in the medical industry for 19 years. It’s a veterinary clinic, but the way we treat animals is very similar to humans.

So, obviously, he will allow me, the medical professional, to be the one to remove the splinter while he helps to soothe and hold her.

I am obviously not the brightest star in the sky.

So we wait until dad comes home.

I gave her a bath, that she requested, and then we sat and watched a movie. She was relaxed and calm by the time dad shows up.

He comes in and can see that something is array.

He asks the 5 year old what’s going on?

She starts to cry, another light sob, but doesn’t want to show him.

It takes her 10 minutes, and more required promises of no doctors or shots, to work up the courage to tell him what happened.

She shows him the splinter.

He asks if he can remove it?

She asks him if it will hurt?

He tells her no, it won’t hurt at all.

It takes a few moments, but as soon as that a-hole promises an ice cream cone, she’s putty in his arms.

She makes her dad promise that if she says to “stop” then he has to stop. He promises.

I ask him to let me pull it out, and he says “No, I can do it”.

Well, yes. I understand that. A dog can pull out it’s own splinter if it chews at it’s foot long enough, but that doesn’t make it the best option.

So I concede, knowing it will only cause an issue if I persist.

He lays her on the bed and tells her he has to go get something from his truck. I have a feeling I know what he’s going get, from his work truck, but I think he may be getting something else. Something a little more appropriate and less barbaric.

Again, I must not be the sharpest knife in the drawer.

He asks me if I’m going to go help to calm her down. So I go into the room and offer to lay down with her, but she doesn’t want me in there. She literally said “No I don’t want you!”

Ok…. I am now done with the situation.

I only went through 9 months of pregnancy, feeling everyday as If I was going to die, 6 hours of labor pains (I know, that part could have been worse), then weeks of feeling like my vagina was dragging across the floor and my boobs were going to explode. I also stayed awake 20 hours of every day for the first 12 months of your life, had bleeding and raw nipples, and now I have stretch marks, sagging boobs, and a foopa, but no. I’m not needed.


I go and sit on the couch, contemplating my existence.

Her dad goes back to the bedroom to begin the procedure. I didn’t want to see what he got from his truck.

I hear her start to scream and and then I hear crying, but she’s being good otherwise. Laying on her tummy while her dad works.

I go back into the room because I still care about the heartless 5 year old and still feel the motherly instinct to try and help my child, who betrayed me, when she’s screaming out in pain.

I ask her if she wants me to hold her hand, and again she says no. While crying!

I look over to see what my husband has done to my daughter’s foot and my I see that he has used his work razor blade to make a cut along the entire length if the splinter.


She never once told him to stop. She laid there, taking the pain, while visions of chocolate dipped ice cream cones danced in her head.

I go and sit on the couch.

After 4 or 5 minutes he gets the splinter out.

My husband comes out into the living room and says,

“Maybe I should have been a doctor!”

This coming from the man who decided to surgically remove a skin tag with a pair of nail clippers then couldn’t stop it from bleeding. He asked for my help then.

I say nothing for the sake of our marriage.

Now she’s ready for ice cream and in the best mood of her life.

My husband asks if I want to go.

“No”. I’m on a diet, he knows this. Plus I don’t want to participate in his celebration.

He asks my daughter “Should mom come with us?”

The 5 year old traitor of my heart replies “No”.

I don’t even know why I exist.

My husband is dead to me for at least the next 48 hours, maybe more.

I can hold a grudge for a long time. He knows this already.

My daughter was laying in my arms later that night.

What can I say, my children are my life.

FYI: Her foot is healed and fine.

Visit my site for more tales of chaos and uncertainty

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