Just Another Chapter...

First morning home after a busy week in South Dakota which was punctuated by a family mission trip in Yankton, which was a very cool experience. We spent 3 days of keeping Theo from falling off or through church basement folding chairs to have him topple a wooden kitchen chair over this morning breaking a spindle and cut his bottom lip from the front and back, but thankfully, not all the way through. After a trip to the laceration room at the ER, I seriously think there should be a plaque with our family name, and a little surgical glue, we are home again. Hardest part of it all? Keeping the little monkey from climbing EVERYTHING in the hospital and getting hurt more!

Here is a picture of Thii's fat lip.

Staples, Stiches and Surgical Glue: One of those times there probably should have been...

As it goes in the WX household, as soon as one incident is near completion, another one is just around the bend; but then what do I expect living with three young superheroes in training?  Just as Sam's swelling is a memory and the bruise on his face is nearly faded, I hear a scream from outside.

Robby has been on this huge kick lately.  Actually, Ray kind of started it.  Well, I guess it was Michael really.  With the construction of your home (Michael's thing), Ray got it in his head we NEED a treehouse.  (That be Ray's thing.)  I would have never guessed in million billion years that Ray would be the brave one up in the tree pounding nails while Robby keeps his feet firmly planted in the grass.  However, Robby is not one to be left out.  That's when he developed the idea that he needs to build a bridge.  A bridge?  Really?  We have no water or water feature.  Why we would need a bridge?  Well Robby is convinced we do and he is one determined little man who isn't about to let it drop.

I personally think my children with real hammers and nails sounds like a ER trip waiting to happen and of course I've stated my point once or twice.  I guess that's why God gave my children a mother and a father.  If it was just me, there's a lot of experiences they probably would have been sheltered from.  So, I keep myself busy making dinner, cleaning up the kitchen, working on the computer while Michael supervises the handiwork.

Enough background information.  Back to the scream.  I've learned that children often overreact, and my overreacting doesn't help a whole lot.  That's why I more or less ignored the situation at hand and continued on with what I was doing.  Michael carried Sam into the bathroom and I heard water running, more disturbingly, I heard continued screaming and crying.  After a few minutes, I asked if Sam was alright.  "Yea, he's fine."  Okay, good enough for me.  Michael continued on with his daddy doctoring and the screaming and crying slowly subsided.

When the dust settled, Sam was sporting a band-aid on his right index finger, which is a huge feat in and of it's self because he is the most anti-bandage child I've ever met.  Michael explained that Sam's finger had the unfortunate circumstance of being in between Rob's nail and hammer and now had a battle wound to prove it.  I, of course, sighed and once again stated they are too young for hammers and nails, just sayin'

After awhile, Sam is holding his finger upright and whining about it.  I assume he just really doesn't like wearing a the band-aid, but as I look closer I see he has bleed through the band-aid.  He pulls and pulls at it till he works it free.  Now I can see that this is actually a pretty good gash on his finger and it's still bleeding quite a bit.  I undress Sam and put him in the tub to try to get it clean and get a better look at it.  I call Michael in and tell him I think he could use some surgical glue or possibly a stitch or two.

"I've got glue.  We'll just use that."  He claims his bottle of the OTC skin glue is the same as the doctor's stuff.  I disagree, but have no desire to drive to the ER so we give it a whirl.

Sam doesn't care much for the sting of the glue, can't say I blame him.  He also isn't up for another band-aid.  I use a sharpie to draw a dog on a band-aid and he decides that's not so bad after all.

This morning, band-aids off, finger is bleeding and Sam's blanket is bloody.  Sigh.  I refrain from saying "I told you so!"  Oh wait, guess I just did.

Staple, Stitches and Surgical Glue: My Life with 3 Boyz-Chapter 9

Anyone who knows my boys, knows how true my working book title rings true.  I did actually write the first chapter for the book, but Michael read it and informed me no one would want to read it.  (Thanks hun.)  Others have assured me they would.  What's a busy mom to do?  Maybe someday I'll get back to it, but for now, I'll keep some notes on a blog.  That should allow me a creative outlet, a chance to get somethings out in print, and maybe even entertain you in the meantime.

I guess that's kind of the foreword...  Here's what I really came to say.

Today I stopped by to pick up Sammi's 2 year pics.  I expected them to be adorable.  I expected them to make me smile.  I didn't expect them to bring tears to my eyes, but they did.  Why?  Because of his smile of course! 

Cheesy right?  Let me explain a little bit more.  It wasn't so much the smile, but the pearly little white teeth that I saw.  See, last week Sam and I had quite a tumble if you will.

The day started off normal enough.  Managed to get myself up and ready, got the three boys up and ready.  Well, mostly.  Sam didn't want to get dressed and since it was a Grandma day, I rolled with it.  We were following the leader down the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat and head out for the day.  Ray had the lead, Rob brought up the rear and Sam and I were sandwiched in between.  Sam's not a fan of stairs so I loaded my arms up with him, his clothes, a blankie, and a book.  Just a few steps in, I lost my balance, but mid-flight recovered.  Or that's what I thought, but the next thing I knew, Sam and I were going down.  I remember thinking to myself, "Do I hang on to Sam or set him down?  Just hold tight and keep him safe."  So I tried.  I really, really tried.  My efforts were in vain.  While I managed to hold tight, I didn't keep him safe because we were suddenly in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and he was screaming.  Initially, I took the screaming as a good sign.  At least he was conscious. 

After praising Jesus for that, I noticed the blood.  Not just a little, but a lot.  It was all over me and all over Sam.  Have you ever been in that moment?  The one where you see the blood, but have no idea where or even who it's coming from?  Your hands tremble, your heart races but somehow you manage to breathe and tell yourself, "It'll be okay.  What do I do next?"

Well, I reached for the phone and called who else?  My mom!  "Mom, Sam and I fell down the stairs.  Can you come help me figure out where the blood is coming from?"  I tried to sound calm and collected, but I'm sure it didn't matter.  I'm sure my mom had that same trembling, heart racing, remind yourself to breathe feeling I had a moment prior.

Mom arrived within minutes and I had figured out the bleeding was coming from Sam's mouth and nose.  With her help, we were able to peek in his mouth enough to see his front left tooth was hanging lower than the others.  What?!  It was suppose to be a bloody lip, not something like this!  What do you even do?  ER?  Dentist?  I called the dentist.  They wanted to see him, but couldn't for an hour and a half.  Now what?

Disperse the kids.  Thankfully, my mom, Ray and I work/attend the same school so I sent him on his way with her.  Given the impact and the blood also coming from Sam's nose, I decided it was worth getting his head checked by a doctor.  I called my mother-in-law and asked her to meet me at the ER to collect Robby.  (THANK GOD FOR GRANDMAS!!!) 

I was so thankful when the ER doc thought Sam's head checked out okay and informed that I would most likely be more sore than he for the next day or two, but also doubtful.  He was still bleeding and crying on and off.

Next stop, dentist.  The dentist took one look in Sam's mouth and didn't have to say much for me to know it wasn't good.  An x-ray confirmed his suspicion that there was indeed a fractured tooth and oral surgery would be needed to extract the broken tooth.  He also warned that the next tooth over was loose and may also need to be removed.  My heart sank. 

My sweet baby boy didn't like stairs.  He wanted me to carry him; to keep him safe.  And look what I had done!  I had gone and fallen knocking out two of his teeth leaving him with a big ol gap in his smile for years to come!  Talk about Mommy Guilt!  Yes, I logically knew that it was an accident. Yes, I logically knew that they were just baby teeth.  Yes, I logically knew that it could have been a lot worse.  But I'm a Mom, and Mommy Guilt just happens okay?!

The dentist office made the referral and the oral surgeon could see us right away.  That, however, is a whole other post that I don't have the energy for at the moment.

Fast Forward to this afternoon:  Seeing Sam's lil pearly white teeth in his two year pic did make me tear up.  And I allowed myself one lil tear for each tooth lost, but not any more.  I am doing everything I can, including praying regularly, to praise God for His protection and guidance, because I know it could've been a whole lot worse.