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I've frequently joked that I consider it to have been a successful weekend if we don't end up in the ER.
Well, the truth is we've only been in the ER once, and that was with Noah when he was about two years old. He fell into a bookcase at daycare and ended up with five stitches at the corner of his left eyebrow.
In fact, I probably cursed myself because we had a baby sitter Friday night who used to be Noah's TSS. We only see her every few months. I was joking that my boys seem to be made of rubber and bragging that we have only been to the ER once in the six plus years of having kids.
Why oh why did I open my fucking mouth??
Last night we ended up in the ER with Kiel. Toddler versus sub-woofer. The sub-woofer won.
I think he has a few words to say to that sub-woofer.
I forgot how much a forehead wound could bleed. And how long it could take to get it to stop. Fun times people, fun times.
Three hours and twelve stitches later we were ready to go home.
I was very proud of Rich. He has the biggest heart and it just kills him to see one of his boys in pain. Don't tell him I told you, but I know he was near tears listening to Kiel cry while he was being stitched up.
I tend to be pretty good during a crisis. I think a lot of it has to do with my EMT training. And my natural tendency to boss people around.
I save my freak-outs until after everything has calmed down.
I've spent most of today alternating between wanting to sleep, taming bouts of anxiety, and trying not to think about how much worse it could have been.