Stocking and stitches

When R3 was just a few months shy of turning two we made our first trip to the Emergency Room.

We had managed to avoid this adventure with R8, but R3, I have a feeling this won't be the first and last visit to the ER.

Hubs and I decided we were going to try something new for Thanksgiving that year and we weren't going to be home that weekend.

I have always decorated the house for Christmas on Thanksgiving weekend, and I really wanted to keep with that tradition. So I decorated the weekend before.

I put the wreaths on the doors, pulled the tree out of its box and fluffed it up. I put out the stocking holders and put our stockings on them. I put out the trees and lights that go in each boys room. And then put out all of my other Christmas decorations.

R8 had gone off to his room to play, Hubs was at the computer, and I was still making sure everything was exactly where I wanted it, when I heard the most excruciating sound to any mothers ears.

R3 let out a blood curling scream like I have never heard before.

I turned around to see him standing in front of the fire place with blood running down his face.

Me, being the calm, cool, and collected one, oh wait that would be Hubs. I PANICKED!!!

I started to scream and then R3 screamed louder and Hubs literally had to take over. Something about the blood and the howling freaked me out.

Hubs scoops up R3 brings him into the kitchen and sets him on the counter, while I try to grab the boo-boo Spiderman from the freezer at the same time I am trying to get a cold wash cloth from the sink.

Hubs wipes R3's face to see where the blood was coming from and looks at me and says he is going to need stitches.

What? What did you say? Stitches?? No, I can't do stitches, I can barely do this.

Oh the other thing I forgot to mention, we were in our PJ's, all four of us.

We tell R8 to get dressed, Hubs gets dressed, then I get dressed and then I try to get R3 dressed. I put a long sleeve shirt on him and some jeans. Grab my purse and we all pile into the car.

I try to put R3 in his car seat but the stupid thing won't latch. I was the stupid one, I put both of R3's legs into one leg of his jeans.

I know I have skillz!. So right there in the garage I strip him down, while blood is still trickling down his face and fix the jeans issue.

OK, all fixed and off we go. Hubs drives because I can barely keep my self together and there was no way I was driving a car while my baby was in the back seat bleeding.

The entire 10 minute trip to the hospital, I am praying he does not need stitches and thinking Child Protective Services is going to come to my house and investigate our family. Great!

We park the car and walk into the ER. I hate the ER. Totally creeps me out being there. We check in and the nice clerk tells us we need to walk across the street to the minor care facility, because the ER is completely booked and it might be hours before we are admitted let alone see a doctor.

So, Hubs grabs R8's hand, I am carrying R3 and we walk out the door and head over to minor care.

It is at the point I realize three things. 1.) it's about 50* out side and R3 has no jacket and no shoes. 2.) None of us have jackets. 3.) I forgot the diaper bag!

When you have a baby, or un-potty trained child, YOU NEVER FORGET THE DIAPER BAG!

I am starting to feel like a horrible mother. I let my child get smacked in the head, I forget to dress him and the rest of my family properly and I FORGOT THE DIAPER BAG!

We get checked in, pay our ER copay and sit down to wait. I figure since R3 wasn't even 2 yet we might get back quick, you know being a baby and all.

W-R-O-N-G !!!

We had to wait almost 3 hours. By this time the bleeding had stopped and actually started to coagulate. He is acting fine, babbling and laughing, while I am a complete nut case.

We get back to see the doctor, he checks him out and says yes he will need three stitches. I say are you sure he needs three stitches? My child, stitches?

Yes ma'am he will need stitches. Oh and by the way what hit him an anvil?

OK, I think I can do this, breathe, I can do this. OK go ahead stitch him up.

The nurse comes in to prep R3 and puts him in what looks like a straight jacket for children only it's red and there aren't any sleeves for your arms. She wraps him this contraption and says to me, OK mom hold his legs down we are going to give him a shot to numb the area.

OK, I think I can do this, breathe, I can do this. OK give him the shot.

The nurse gives the shot, and then the screaming, and louder screaming. OK wait I can't do this, Hubs it's your turn. The whole time all of this is going on R8 is asking us if he can stay in the room to watch.

The doctors say sure if it's OK with your parents. Hubs immediately says yes. R8 plops himself down in a chair and is completely engrossed. I would like to say it was brotherly support but he thought all that doctor stuff was cool.

Me, I ended up out in the hallway pacing up and down like and expectant father.

I hear my name and think it's over and I can hold my baby, but it's not over. Hubs got to hot under the lamp over the bed and needs to come out of the room. And they need me.

OK, I think I can do this, breathe, I can do this. OK continue stitching up my child.

The darn procedure takes about 5 minutes, but to me it felt like 5 bazillion hours. Doctor says, OK you can go home.

So four hours and three stitches later we pile back into the car and get home at almost 1AM. Once home everyone gets back into their PJ's and off to bed. Except me, I put R3 in bed with us and watched him the entire night. I couldn't sleep. I watched him sleep peacefully all night. I was trying to redeem myself and find someone else to take the Bad Mother of the Year award.

Oh and here is what hit R3 square in the face right between the eyes. Yup right between the eyes.

A silver snowflake stocking holder that weighs just over 8lbs. And it has all of those pointy edges. See why I deserved the Bad Mother of the Year award.

It could have been much worse. So much worse. I am STILL trying to redeem myself.

Now when I put out the stockings, the holders don't even come out of the box. The stockings are now taped to the top of the mantel. I really don't think I have anything to worry about but I am not taking any chances.

Oh y'all to top that off. Exactly one month later....

R3 trips over Hubs' foot in the dining room and smacks his mouth on one of our solid wood chairs.

Yes more blood, and yes more screaming. Yes more visions of Child Protective Services coming to my house. He splits the outside of his mouth right where your mouth attaches itself to your bottom gum line and the inside of his mouth just to the left of that.

But this time after phone call with the pediatrician, no trip to the Emergency Room/Minor Care, and I remained calm, cool, and collected.

Sort of.