Classical Conditioning: What I learned that Pavlov's dogs didn't

Gabrielle woke up with a wet bed, and now I can't fall back asleep. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. I hate it when that happens.

Rather than just lie there in a dark room, listening the husband snore and worrying myself sick about everything bad in the world, I thought I'd come out here and do something useful. Or at least entertaining. I don't know if I would go so far as to call updating this blog "useful."

We had a horrible experience Monday. Gabrielle asked me to make her a hot dog. We don't have a functioning microwave right now, so I stuck a couple of hot dogs in a pan of water and put it on the stove to boil. Then I popped into the living room for a second to finish something I'd been working on.

Suddenly I heard Gabrielle start to cry, nothing extreme, just a typical "I've tripped and think I want attention" type of weeping. Except then it started to increase in panic and pain. She came running in to me, clutching her hand to her chest.

I finally figured out it was her finger that was hurt and managed to coax her into letting me see it.

On the tip of her little left index finger was a perfect black ring with a white spot in the middle.

A third degree burn. On my daughter's finger. Her perfect, perfect little tiny finger.

Things are a little blurry after that. I remember thinking I had to stay calm or I'd panic her. I remember panicking. I kept having to stop myself from bursting into tears. I tried to call the husband, who was on his way to work, but his cell phone went straight to voice mail. I was watching a little girl from church for her parents, who are having babysitting problems, but I didn't have a car seat for her. I called a friend down the street who agreed to watch her. I called the pediatrician. Did they want me to take Gabrielle to the office, or straight to the emergency room?

I remembered when I spilled boiling water on my feet when I was ten, how for hours my second degree burn had felt like my skin was on fire. I grabbed a package of diced green peppers out of the fridge and had Gabrielle put her finger on it to try to alleviate her pain. I held her and tried to comfort her as I raced around turning off the glowing burner that she'd touched, collecting shoes and coats and diaper bags, trying, trying, trying to stay calm and project an image of an in-control Mommy who would take care of everything.

No need to be afraid, small people! Mommy is in charge! Mommy will make everything better! Mommy will kill anyone who stands between her and making it better!

Then my friend was walking back to her house with our sobbing and confused little guest and I was putting my two into the car. (It wasn't until later that I realized I could have asked my friend to take Arielle, too.) Gabrielle wouldn't let me put on her coat, just sobbing over and over about how her finger hurt.

I drove far too aggressively to the pediatrician's office, wishing they'd just told me to go straight to the emergency room. Then I got turned around and couldn't remember how to get there (we have a new pediatrician.) Luckily, I had a phone book in my car. (Don't ask me why - I don't even remember how it got there.) I looked her address up and found her street just two blocks from where I was.

We rushed into the office, Gabrielle still clutching the green peppers. And then we saw the toys.

All of a sudden, no more crying. We checked in, the girls ran to play with the other kids and the wonderful, wonderful toys, and Gabrielle was fine. The only sign she'd been seriously hurt was that she kept her hand up and out of the way as she played. She even fought with her sister over who got to sit on a child sized rocker on one side of the room.

I found myself sitting on a hard blue chair, holding a half frozen bag that I belatedly realized was dribbling green peppers, watching my youngest daughter play as if she hadn't a care in the world. I spent about 30 seconds shaking my head over her resilience, then started worrying that the lack of pain might indicate serious nerve damage.

So. Here's the situation as it stands. The pediatrician wasn't wildly concerned. We have a prescription for an antibiotic cream that we apply twice a day. We keep her finger covered with gauze during the day to keep her from touching the burned area to anything and leave the gauze off at night to let air get to it. We keep the finger dry. We watch for any signs of infection. We go back in two weeks for a check up, but her finger should be all better in just one week.

Gabrielle is having great fun showing off her white-wrapped finger. Daddy has forgiven Mommy for letting it happen. Mommy may never forgive herself. Gabrielle has to be constantly restrained from getting her finger wet. Social Services has not turned on my doorstep to accuse me of being the world's worst mother ever and remove my precious neglected darling from my incompetent care.

And I am now too afraid to use the front burners on the stove.