Sunday, November 10, 2013

A Can, a little boy, and a lacerated finger

My rarely written Friday night post is being followed by an almost-never Sunday night post this week. Why? Because I forgot about how finicky the Facebook status gods are.

You know. You post "It's so awesome that my kid has been napping for 3 hours a day all week! Just checked on him and he's going on 1.5 hours of an awesome nap today too. Whoohooo!"

And then as soon as you hit "post" something horrible happens and your child wakes up for seemingly no reason at all. And then refuses to nap even one blessed minute...for the next 10 days.

That would be the work of the Facebook status gods. Don't tempt them.

On Saturday I completely forgot about this as I posted about my new Saturday laziness that has come upon me this pregnancy:

Every time Saturday rolls around, I feel like it should be a day off from housework. I deliberately take the time "off" and refuse to keep spinning the cleaning wheel...just for one day. Considering the kids have mastered the art of trashing the house in 3...2....1... seconds, every Sunday I always pay for this. Dearly. And yet I never learn. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to brush aside the Cheerios that someone so sweetly placed in my bed and take a nap. Because it's my day off.


A day off. Somewhere- the facebook status gods were going crazy laughing at me and my desire to not have to do any heavy cleaning that day. I had gotten away with this the past twenty or so Saturdays, but as soon as I tempted the gods...

Carter Henry slashed open a finger and gushed gallons* of blood all over the kitchen requiring some very definite cleaning. 
*I claim the constitutional right of slight exaggeration

Did this happen while he was roaming haphazardly all over the house when I thought he was asleep in his bed? Nope. Was I chilling in my rocking chair and ignoring my child while he played with knives? Nope.  (not that either of these ever happen normally...but just in case that was your first thought)

This happened while I was standing right next to him in the kitchen- enjoying a super sweet moment with my son.

I had just finished cleaning out the fridge (I was OK with this type of cleaning on my "day off" because it wasn't going to get undone ten seconds later since the kids can't get in the fridge by themselves. Also- it smelled like something had died in there) and I was dicing up apples for a new apple cinnamon muffin recipe that I was prepping for the next morning's breakfast.

Carter was standing on his little stool next to me "helping" me cook. He loves to help me in the kitchen, and I involve him whenever possible. Just when I was having such warm fuzzy thoughts about his fascination with the muffin making process and our time together, I saw that with lightening speed he had put his hand out and grabbed a can off the back of counter. A can that I forgot that I had pulled out of the fridge while cleaning- not sure if I should throw it out or find a new container for it. A can of refried beans that had been half opened, the lid shut back down, and then thrown hurriedly in the fridge a while ago (another reason why the cleaning of the fridge was so necessary).

The problem was that my inquisitive little boy stuck his finger between the lid and the can. The problem was that he got it stuck and then almost immediately panicked- yanking his finger free with all the strength he could muster. The problem was...I glanced over from my diced apples and saw him standing there with a dazed look on his face, and blood literally spurting from his finger.

I grabbed a paper towel, his hand, and put as much pressure as I could on the wound to try to slow the bleeding. Thankfully I had my phone close by- so I called Aaron who was outside mowing the lawn. No answer.

Carter and I settled in the middle of the kitchen floor- blood pooling around us from those spurts that happened before Mommy emergency mode kicked into high gear. He was crying hysterically. If I let up the pressure at all the blood got out of control as it was the paper towel was already soaked through and I was quite covered myself. Aaron didn't answer any of his 14 calls (he couldn't hear his phone over the mower). Addison was in my face with her bowl INSISTING that I get her more cereal RIGHT NOW.  I didn't know what to do and really just wanted to hysterically cry with Carter. I couldn't physically go get Aaron because I couldn't move. Should I call 911? 

It's ridiculous, but my first thought was- I am in my pajamas and now covered with blood. Addison has spent the last half hour spreading cereal over every inch of the floors. The house is a disaster. Can my pride handle a team of emergency personnel coming into my house when it looks like THIS? I could yell "THE FRIDGE IS CLEAN" as they came in...but still... Plus, 911 calls end up stopping traffic right in front of our house and it is a pretty major road and cars line up for miles to stare at us (don't ask me how I know this).

I figured if I had a second pair of hands we could get him to the emergency room (assuming that the blood flow let up soon). So I called Aaron's parents who live just a few minutes from us. I explained that Aaron was outside mowing and couldn't hear my call- could someone please come over and get his attention for us because Carter was bleeding out in the kitchen and I needed help (or something like that).

Long story short- Aaron came inside just a few minutes later because he glanced down and saw the missed calls. Long story short, Aaron's parents came over and Aaron and his mom took Carter to the emergency room while I cleaned up all the blood and got Addison (who was hysterical when Carter got to leave on a super fun trip with Daddy WITHOUT her) some more cereal. Aaron's dad finished the work out on the lawn. Long story short, Aaron and his mom had to stay at the emergency room for HOURS and wait for Carter Henry to get 8 stitches on the very tip of his middle (of course) finger that apparently was quite torn up from the can.

Once things were under control back on the home front, I felt weird not being there with him (and couldn't join them because they took my car). But considering how questionable my blood pressure has been my last few OB visits, and the number of doctor/hospital/surgeries that I have had to do alone with the kids in the past- it was really wonderful to let the other half of the parenting team cover this one (and Grandma) while I tried to not picture them restraining my little boy for his very first set of stitches. 

I did NOT appreciate the text from Daddy half way through that said that they went ahead and amputated and were now putting in a hook. My sense of humor does not kick in mid-emergency. It takes time for me to get there. A HOOK??? Jerk.

Long story short- Carter Henry is fine; the pools of blood have been cleaned up; Aaron informed me that he earned extra "Daddy points" this weekend; and Grandma and Papa helped hold the whole operation together. We are very thankful that they were close by and able to help us on a pretty rough afternoon.

My day off. Ha. Facebook status gods 1. Deanna 0.

It's a new week. And it's going to be a better week. How do I know this?

1. We might have a baby this week (but don't hold your breath- still only 38 weeks)
2. Daddy just whipped up this little gem for a certain little boy's room. $16 and a half an hour of table saw work. His Daddy points are now off the chart high. I see a new week of improved and earlier bedtimes.
3. Everyone took a 4 hour nap today which meant that mommy got a 4 hour nap which means that the positive outlook on it all is returning. So much to be thankful for. It's amazing how much better life looks after a 4 hour nap.

4. Carter Henry is totally fine and seemingly no worse for the wear. That dude is one tough little kid. (This does not bode well for avoiding future ER visits. Daddy saying that they picked up a "punch card" at the ER was also not taken well by this mommy who is preparing for TWO boys. Fear has officially set in.)

5. All of last week is going to be filed under the "things I will purposefully forget about the toddler years.". (Except when I need a story to hold over their heads when they are older... using of course that constitutional right of slight exaggeration whenever necessary).

Like peanut butter on the fingers of a curious toddler, this post is begging to be shared.

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