Well, we've done broken arms, dehydration, RSV, baseball line drives to the temple, and all sorts of other lovely things to land our family members in the ER....but last night I experienced my first trip for stitches - on Gabriel.
Last night was supposed to be smooth - smooth for having a million places to be and only one place I could be. I was supposed to get Drew and Evan to kindergarten round-up, register Gabriel for pre-school at our church, and have my elementary honor choir sing at the art show. The art teacher in my building does SOOO much for me, that I HAVE to help her out this one night a year. It's not that big of a deal, and the kids get free ice cream out of it. We got home after some delays at about 5:15. I was trying to unload my stuff and get Gabriel out of the van when he started pushing me out of the way saying he wanted to close the sliding van door. He has done it a few times with success and caution, so what would it matter? My hands were full anyway. I turned around and started toward the house from our parking spot in the garage, but I stopped in my tracks when I heard my 3 year old screaming bloody murder. When I turned around, I saw fingers stuck in the sliding door and his little arm yanking back to no avail with his eyes desperately seeking my relief. I got there as quickly as I could obviously. Chad had just pulled up from work to hear the screaming. He was there just as I opened the door to release Gabriel who tucked his tiny fingers in his other hand and was screaming "OW OW OW" with huge tears streaming down his sun-kissed cheeks. Chad scooped him up and calmly told me to get ice. Neither one of us really saw blood yet, I don't think.
Chad set him on the counter and asked if he could see his fingers. Gabriel didn't want to untuck them from their safe place, but Chad convinced him calmly that he wouldn't touch it he just wanted to see it. I was filling a sandwich baggie full of crushed ice from the door of the refrigerator when Chad's tone of voice totally changed from comforting and soft to serious and...well,
lower. "We're gonna need stitches."
Well Gabriel was still crying. Luke's eyes got about as big as dinner plates and started to fill with tears. Drew and Evan were hovering but not that concerned. My mind went to all of the things we had scheduled. Chad was going to take Drew and Evan to the kindergarten round up. I was taking Luke and Gabriel to his parents' so I could go to the art show and have my kids sing. I was already going to have to miss important things. We had worked it out to get the paperwork for preschool registration so I wouldn't have to be there. He's our 4th to go, so we're pros, after all.
I knew the art show was NOT in my future. The phone rang. I answered to hear Chad's mom start asking me about the crying. I told her as quickly as I could what had happened. She said Tony (her husband and an EMT) was right around the corner at his parent's house. I instantly hung up and scooped up my screaming child who was now yelling, "I don't want to" over and over, put him in the van, told the rest of the kids to get in a vehicle (didn't care which one at this point), and drove to Tony.
He took one look and said, "He's gonna need stitches." He cleaned up the finger and bandaged it really well. It's good to have an EMT in the family - especially with all our boys running around.
I left Luke there with Chad's dad, Chad took the twins to get ready for round-up, and Gabriel and I headed to the ER. I called about a million times trying to get a hold of SOMEONE in my school building to let them know about my little emergency while he screamed....He finally calmed down about half way to Kokomo. From then on out, he was perfect.
I stayed surprisingly calm, and with the exception of the two HUMONGOUS shots to numb his finger, he let the doctors do whatever they wanted without so much as a peep.
When he heard there might be a red sucker and ice cream in his future, he was good as gold.
Two stitches and 4 stickers later, he is good as new. Milking it, of course....but I say do it while you can.
Not having really lived in the country before, I was a little unsure how this process worked. I was a little concerned the first time the kids noticed our "new dog" as they called it. I warned them about not running up on a strange dog. As "Jack" laid next to Bo, our beloved and sneaky and magical dog...if you know him, you understand that description...I walked cautiously to see him. The boys were anxious to greet and play, but stayed behind me. Jack loved me. He loved my kids. My anxiety was not warranted. Until Chad got home.
