Last night we were supposed to go to a Kindergarten info night (For real, people. My baby is going to freakin' kindergarten). I had us all packed up and ready to go. Lane walked through the door, and Easton, who is quite the walker/runner these days, fell down right in front of me.
Poor baby started crying so I picked him up, hugged him, held him close to my chest, told him he would be okay. Then I extended my arms to look at him and, much to my surprise, blood was dripping down his whole little face. I knew he fell hard and it upset him, but I didn't think he was injured. When I saw all the blood I first thought maybe he hit his face harder on the ground than I thought and got a bloody nose, but then I saw the deep puncture in his sweet little forehead.
Lane got all Dexter and checked for blood and he saw some on the floor, right at the corner of the baseboard. Easton fell so hard on it (right in front of both of us) that it just put a hole in his head. We both knew we would be going to the ER instead of Kinder info night.
He settled down quickly and was more upset with us for trying to put ice packs on his head than he was about his actual injury. Pretty soon, Easton was signing "Please" for my phone and eating apples, so I knew he was okay, but that he needed something to help seal his head back up. We packed up some craft supplies, Christmas books, and hand sanitizer and got ready for a long evening at the Emergency Room.
Thank goodness Easton wasn't feeling bad. Gabriela was an angel. She colored and read books with her Daddy and we brought some reading puzzles for her to do (she is sounding out words now, this girl!). But all those things got old after a while. I kept her busy by asking her how many times she could jump in a row (88) and taught her how to do jumping jacks in the waiting room.
Lane took Gabriela to go get a snack when she started complaining about being hungry. I knew they'd have to go to a vending machine and fully expected her to come proudly prancing back with a bag of Doritos or something. She came back saying, "Mom! All that was there was JUNKY food! Really! Like Cheetos and chips!!" She chose a cereal bar. I was both surprised and proud of her.
It was so weird when we were called back to the room. It was like flashbacks to last time we were there. I just remembered the room we were in the last time (for Easton's catheter and blood drawing and IV), and the moment Lane came through those doors just minutes after I called his work to ask him to come be with me. And then the same doctor came in who gave me the meningitis-we-might-have-to-do-a-spinal-tap-on-your-2-month-old talk. It was upsetting to have all those memories rushing back.
This time, Easton had to get strapped up in a baby straight-jacket. He was furious about it. I thought maybe he might calm before the storm if I was able to nurse him in there, but he was too upset. Then they covered his head so he couldn't see, so they would only see the wound they were working on.
I kept it together long enough to talk to him throughout the procedure but totally cried as soon as it was done. Easton was frantically doing his milk/mama sign the instant his hand was freed. He immediately calmed down when he was in my arms, and then really relaxed and fell asleep as soon as I started nursing him. Poor, poor baby.
But even on the way home, he was back to his normal, sweet and cheerful self. Now, he just has a giant goose egg, a bruise, and two stitches to go along with it.
So now we have been to the ER twice with each kid. I think that we are good for a few more years. You hear that kids???
No more injuries allowed.
