As I see them play, I am reminded that this is what good childhoods are made of. And then I begin to let go a little. Let them run and play. Realize that I truly cannot wrap them all in bubble wrap so I watch them explore and jump and play. And it's those times- when I'm nice and relaxed because I know they're getting to know their world and the role they play in it- that something like this happens.
NO! NOT THE BABY!!!
He had been playing outside in the playhouse and was riding the little scooter in there. He slipped and scraped his head (and nose) on the cabin and then hit his head on the ground- right on a rock.
I knew when I looked at it that it needed stitches.
Because it was a head wound, it bled profusely.
I had to leave the room more than once and noticed a couple of the kids did too. Ava on the other hand, stayed right with him as Dad cleaned him up and rubbed his hand and said over and over, "It's okay little guy, you're ok". Oh man. I wasn't sure if my heart could take any more.
After a few minutes of the hysterics ending, he was a little sad, but I was relieved to see that it stopped bleeding.
We gave him a popsicle as we cleaned it out some more and tried to get a better look to see if he would actually need stitches. He was still so squirmy and I wasn't loving the fact that I couldn't really tell if it was all clean enough. I couldn't decide whether to take him in and I honestly couldn't see straight. All I could see in my head was him sitting on the table with Dad holding him and the blood gushing out of that little opening. I went into my room on Dad's encouragement and said a prayer.
I wanted comfort, I needed to calm myself down. I had a good talk with the Lord and told him my concerns/worries. Once I was done, I knew what to do. I was composed and almost peaceful. I knew immediately it was a direct answer to my prayer.
So he and I took a little trip to the Insta Care together.
Since it happened right before naps, I was sure he would either 1- Fall asleep in the waiting room or 2- Be a total wreck once we were there. Actually, neither of them came true. We ended up waiting for 2.5 hours and he was as happy as a clam! He wanted to run and climb and play but I was so overprotective that I didn't want him to move at all!
He was great. When it was finally our turn to see the Doctor, he laid down nice and still- until they tried to clean it out. They had to cover his eyes so nothing would get in them and he was NOT happy about that! As they were cleaning it out (it took two of them) I was amazed at the little pieces of rock and gravel they picked out! After 7, I stopped counting. After that, he was a dream. He had 4 stitches and cried a little but was more concerned that he couldn't see what was happening than anything else.
Once we were done, we got out to the car and I noticed the time. It was now 5:00. Almost 3 hours since we had arrived. 5 hours since we had returned home from church. And still no nap. I was floored! As we left, the sweet nurses (they knew him well by the time we were done) gave him a little blue sucker. He was super pumped about that and didn't want to take one more step until I took the wrapper out. He sat and stared at it while we got in the car and it wasn't until I encouraged him to lick it that the real fun began!
As we drove home, he enjoyed his sucker and didn't even play with the bandaid on his forehead. After a mile or two I looked back to see him fast asleep with the blue sucker halfway out of his mouth, and a large pool of blue drool collecting on his lap.
I was about to pull over and address that, but I decided against it. He had such a traumatic day. 4 stitches and only 17 months old. Let him sleep. Let him be at peace.
And, in true form- 2 minutes later when we pulled into the driveway he was up!
He was awake and ready to play. Just not in the playhouse for know, Kid!
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