It is 11:30 PM.  I just got done cleaning up the bathroom floor which was covered in a puddle of urine.  A wonderful surprise left by a sleep walking son that I literally stepped into.  The same son woke me up at 2 in the morning last night to tell me he’d thrown up and didn’t make it to the bathroom.  Throw up on a bunk bed ladder… not so fun to clean up.  And sandwiched in between those two fun clean up jobs I got to clean up blood from a major accident at our house this morning.  I have had possibly the most exhausting day as a mother that I’ve ever had, but here I sit, blogging.  It is therapeutic, for sure.

Blue Jeans (hereafter in this post referred to as BJ) loves to run all over the house and today he decided to run and then slide head first into a corner in the kitchen leaving a very deep (to the bone) gash in his beautiful little forehead.   My other boys now know what gushing blood means.  Which is good because if I don’t want to be disturbed I always tell them not to bother me unless the house is on fire or they are gushing blood.  As BJ was gushing blood I was running around trying to get everyone out to the car, get my shoes on and keep a towel pressed to his head to slow the blood flow while not passing out.  I managed to get the screaming baby and the other two boys out to the car when I realized I was missing some important clothing items and ran upstairs only to have to sit down with my head between my knees so I wouldn’t faint.  My baby was bleeding to death in the car and there I sat unable to get up.  It was awful.   I had been making myself breakfast when BJ ran into the wall and so had no food in my stomach which added to the light headedness.  At that point Mr. Pres, who was home sick from school (see middle of the night cleanup job from last night for details) then came into my room hysterical that BJ was going to die.  Amazingly enough I was able to talk coherently even with my head between my knees and was able to convince him, though I’m sure I didn’t sound very convincing, that Blue Jeans would be OK.  Finally after what felt like 10 minutes I was able to get up and go down stairs.  I thankfully smelled the burning egg on the stove on my way out to the car and a possible house fire was averted.  Miraculously, the bleeding had mostly stopped by the time I got to the car thanks mostly to 2 big brother’s prayers, I’m sure. 

To the Urgent Care we went.   I herded all three little boys into the urgent care, myself and BJ covered in blood.  The people there tried to be helpful and not stare at the horrible wound on my baby’s head and then sent me to the ER.  So back in the car we herded, my arm about to break off from holding BJ so long.  An angelic visiting teacher saved the day and met me at the ER to take the two older boys.  Funny that it was at that point-when my friend came to help- that I finally lost it and started to ball.  I then made my way into the ER.  I should add here that everywhere I went people cringed at BJ’s head.  It was almost amusing to see the police officer on duty at the ER cringe when he saw BJ.  Almost amusing.  In the ER we got to wait.  And wait.  And wait.  While I sat anxiously waiting and trying NOT to think about the horrible scar this would leave on his head Blue Jeans was as happy as could be.   It’s as if he didn’t know he had a huge gash in his head.  He climbed all over the bed, pulled all the cords, played with the lights and was just fine while we sat in our tiny room waiting and waiting and waiting. 

As you can see he was in pretty good spirits.  Notice there is no picture of me at this point.  I was NOT in such good spirits.  No shower, no food, covered in blood and worried.  Not pretty. 

Finally 3 1/2 hours after the incident actually occurred, a plastic surgeon was able to stitch his little forehead back together.  That was the worst part.  The surgeon stitched, the child specialist blew lots of bubbles to keep Blue Jeans distracted, and Blue Jeans and I cried.  Well his was really screaming.  It was a horrific experience to sit there helpless while your little one screams.  The Dr. kept telling me that he wasn’t in pain (they had numbed the area of course) and that BJ was just really mad because he couldn’t move (they had swaddled him up good and tight in the “Papoose” which is baby slang for straight jacket), but I don’t know that I believe him.  Either way it was painful emotionally for both of us.  But 16 stitches later Blue Jeans was fine.  Well, as fine as one could be with 16 stitches.  He was up again and wanting to blow the bubbles himself.   Physically and emotionally exhausted we headed home.  And as I drove away from the ER I contemplated the miraculousness of the fact that with 3 boys I have never been there before now! 
I wonder what surprises my 3 sons will have for me tomorrow.