No, You May NOT Have a Pony

Well, another weekend is upon us and it's shaping up to be pretty much like every other weekend--some hoops, some movies, spending time with family and friends and a whole lotta LTC.

Darcy and her friend Cheyenne auditioned for the upcoming school talent show (Is there nothing Darcy won't audition for? Where did this child come from?) and were selected to perform, so Cheyenne's mom suggested that with the holidays over, they get serious about practicing their "act." Cheyenne's father is a police officer and is apparently wary of letting his offspring sleep over at friends' homes (a policy I totally understand, by the way), but he welcomes his daughters' friends to their home. It makes me feel a little selfish not to be able to reciprocate, and I have to remind myself that at least I've offered to host them here.

Anyhoo, Chey's mom (also a good friend of mine) wondered earlier this week if Darcy could come over after school today to practice with Chey for the talent show. Then she said, "And you know Chey's going to want Darcy to spend the night." I gave my consent and that was that. The next day she said, "You know . . . if Darcy comes over then Peyton has to come over too." You may recall my telling you some time back that Chey has a sister named Peyton who is also our Peyton's age and they go together like eggs and bacon.

So this afternoon as we headed to Tyler's one and only Friday basketball game (which he rocked, by the way, scoring ten points!) we found ourselves without the company of our two girls which could mean only one thing: PIZZA! Darcy and Peyton aren't as crazy for pizza as the menfolk in this family are (and by menfolk I mean TYLER), and since we had two less mouths to feed, we splurged and got a large pie at Pizza Hut. May I just say, they know how to make a pizza!

We decided to watch us a little Kung Fu Panda upstairs while we noshed on our delectable, fat-filled, quadrillion-meat pizza, and while I was in the kitchen gathering supplies the telephone rang.

Me: "Hello?"
Darcy: "Hi Mom, it's me. Mrs. Parish wants to know if it's okay for her to give me a Zyrtec."
Me: "Yes, you can take a Zyrtec. Good-bye."

The conversation actually lasted a bit longer than that but the upshot of it was that Darcy believed she had simply gotten a "horse-hair" in her eye. I should mention that Darcy has spent the night at Chey's house twice before and hasn't had any problems with their dogs--it's typically cats that send her allergies into overdrive. But the Christmas holiday brought a new surprise for Chey--her very own horse! And apparently the girls had gone and visited said horse. Thus, the "horse-hair." I confirmed that Darcy wasn't wheezing or in danger of going into anaphylactic shock, and assured her that I'd be by in the morning to pick her up for her basketball game.

We resumed the movie-watching and about half an hour passed before Randy decided it was time for a brownie break (what is with all the food references???); evidently he had at least one artery that the pizza hadn't completely clogged and he was trying to finish the job. While he was downstairs the doorbell rang, which I found odd as that's the second night in a row that someone has dropped by unannounced. Randy answered the door and I heard my friend say, "We're here for Darcy's inhaler." Randy uttered something unintelligible so I thought I'd better get downstairs quickly and see if I needed to do something like, you know, dial 911.

I believe Randy's first words to me were, "Do you want to get your camera to document this?" What???!! But what I saw was truly horrifying and I hope I NEVER have to see it again. My precious daughter looked like she'd been hit by a baseball bat--repeatedly. Both eyes were completely swollen, bloodshot and watering profusely. What's more, her right eye had what looked like a big purple bruise underneath it and, for good measure, several welts. Guess who's allergic to horses?

She took two puffs of Xopenex, a Singulair and a Benadryl with the promise that she would head straight for the shower when she got back to Chey's house. My friend also promised to call if the swelling hadn't receded in thirty minutes and that was nearly two hours ago. Whew. Here's hoping she never auditions for a remake of National Velvet.