Blue Little Toesies

  And here is the intro to Fam Och's first arctic emergency of sorts.  First off, I'll remind you of Miss Sophie's serious aversion to socks....anyone see where this is going? We spent the last three days visiting and re-visiting the local sporting goods stores building up our cold weather wardrobes in preparation of Fur Rondy (post on that later). We were all equipped with what we needed to survive hours outside in 12 degree weather.

So this morning, after putting base layer, turtleneck, performance fleece, down jacket, shell, and snowpants on her, I handed Sophie her wool socks.  She wrinkled her nose, but I gave her the I-put-you-into-this-world... look and she begrudgingly put them and her boots on.

Fast forward four hours later...we had been enjoying the Fur Rondy festivities during this period, interspersed with periodic forays into souvenir stores and tour guide offices to warm up.  We were at the carnival, the temps had plunged down another 5 degrees and the wind started picking up. The Mister and I agreed to call it a day once D stepped off the ride he was on, when Sophia planted herself in front of me, tears streaming down her face.

She was cold, she said, and her feet hurt.

Okay, we're headed to the parking garage right now, anyway.  Get in the stroller, and Dad will just carry Liv.

Walking through the parking garage, I immediately felt the relief of shelter and the warmth flooding back into my extremities.  But Sophie's cries intensified. You know those alarm bells instilled in every mother? Well, yeah, they made their presence known, loudly.  Instead of strapping her in her seat, I plopped her down on the passenger seat and grabbed a hold of her boot...

Despite the obvious pain she was in, guilt flooded her eyes, and she said, "Sorry."

Right then, without taking a look, I just freakin' knew.  I pulled her boot off and confirmed that my disobedient monster did NOT have any socks on. Her foot looked yellow and waxy shiny. Not good. Along the speedy way to the emergency room, out came the tearful confession of sneaking off to remove them and hide the key to keeping her feet attached to her body under the couch.

Visions of my amputee daughter ran through my panic.

Thankfully, her toes did NOT turn blue or black...but pink...but not until after a lukewarm foot bath administered by the ER angels. Another hour out there could have resulted differently. The doc officially diagnosed it as "chill blains"? a form of pre-frostbite. She received numerous lectures from him, the Mister and I, and even D (he was scared for her). 

Fam Och will still continue on our arctic adventures, but apparently it must include frequent sock checks. Boo.