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My kids have their timing all wrong. They never seem to do the things they should do when Daddy is home when he IS ACTUALLY HOME! Nooooo, heaven forbid. They save it all for me. Whoopity-frickin-do. All the diaper explosions. All the projectile vomiting. All the trips to the ER. Yup, all for me. And since we are falling upon the one year anniversary of our worst ER trip to date I thought that I would tell you a little tale.
It was mid-August of last summer and I was around 5 months pregnant with Little Miss Presley. It was early in the morning and Jordan had left not too long before for work. Boogie was still asleep in his crib like the angel baby that he was, before the devil's juice started pumping in his veins on his second birthday that is, and a 4 yr old little Mason was running a muck like he normally did in the morning.
Now I hadn't been awake long and as I was waddling my way to the bathroom, probably picking my wedgie at the time, I could hear Mason running laps around the living room, through the kitchen, and around the front room. Round and around and around and WHAM!
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Then came the shriek.
I ran to the front room and saw Mason standing there, head gashed wide open. And I mean WIDE open, dripping in blood. I know!!! ON MY CARPET!! I kid. I joke. Settle down. I was concerned about him first, then the carpet.
As I swept him up in my arms and did a quick assessment of the situation I found that Mason had ran straight into the corner of the tile counter. He had hit with such force that he literally cracked the tile OFF OF THE COUNTER. To this day it is still cracked and serves as a daily reminder to not run in the house! But I digress...
As I held him bleeding in my arms I did the first thing that came to mind. A towel! I needed to apply pressure to the wound, that much I knew. But I was terrified! I didn't know the severity of the wound and my crazed pregnant hormones were on an emotional rampage. Struggling to stay calm and bawl at the same time I ran next door to the neighbors house. I pounded on the door and my neighbor came out and went into emergency mode as soon as he saw the state Mason was in. The next few minutes were a blur. The Mrs called 911. The Mr held Mason and applied pressure to his head. And I...well...I looked down to realize that I wasn't wearing pants. Nope. There I was in their living room, their 6 kids staring wide eyed at the entire situation, sitting in my skivvies and a pajama top. Sighhh. Of course. At the time, that was the least of my worries.
By the time I secured Boogie with the Mrs, found a pair of pants, and borrowed some shoes we were herded into the ambulance on our way to the ER. Now you're probably wondering how Mason was faring through out all of this. Let me just tell you. HE LOVED IT! In 2 minutes flat he had won the hearts of the firefighters (yeah, they came out for it too, this was a big deal in our town that morning) and of the paramedics. As they strapped him to the gurney they adorned him with stickers and a stuffed animal. What did the crazy pregnant chick with mascara running down her puffy face get? Nothing. Except maybe a few judging looks and a couple of tsk-tsks.
As we pulled into the hospital parking lot I see Jordan and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I remembered he had taken his motorcycle to work that day and after doing the math in my head I'm afraid to even ask how fast he was going. All I know is it was WAY faster than legal, or safe for that matter!
After assuring every firefighter, paramedic, nurse, and doctor that I didn't beat my kid we were settled into a room. Mason basked in the attention and the staff was more than willing to give the sweet little boy with the horrid gash any and every thing he asked for. 3 stitches and a row of staples later we were on our merry way home. On the bright side, he did sit on the couch for the rest of the day, giving me a little and much needed break.
So the moral of the story: always wear pajama bottoms to bed in case your kids decide to bleed profusely from the head before breakfast!
My happy little camper nestled onto the couch for the day...This was part of Mama Kat's writer's workshop, go on and check her out!
