Thursday, November 5, 2009

Oh What A Night

I've been told that a little boy rarely makes it to his 5th birthday without visiting the emergency room, apparently 3.11 years old was Alex's lucky number. Around 3 o'clock we went for a bike ride. He rides, I walk. I'm not a big fan of bicycles. I think they are dangerous. Go figure.

He likes to ride down the hills on the sidewalk where we live. 1 time-great! 2nd time-awesome! 3rd time, it all went down hill. No pun intended. He went off the side walk in to a gully type thing where they have drainage for heavy rain and it's landscaped so beautifully with ROCKS. Big ones. pointy ones. When I went to pick up my screaming son that was face down in a pool of blood I didn't know what to expect. A broken nose? A busted grill? A poked out eye? As scary as picking up your son and seeing a hole in his forehead and literally staring at his skull sounds, I was instantly relieved that is was that, and none of the above. I picked him up, abandoned his bicycle, and starting running with him...up hill. 32 pound kid, 17 extra pounds. Picture my fat self by the time I got half way home. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I had to have him walk the rest of the way home. Throw the front door open, and screamed "EMERGENCY". Woke my husband out of a dead sleep (worked 12 last night, working 12 tonight). He took Alex and cleaned him up and bandaged him, told me he needed stitches, and sent me to the hospital while he went to pick up Amber from school. I have to admit that I strategically made sure big Alex didn't come to the hospital. I didn't want him to see Alex before he got sewn up. Calmness is not his strong suit. He hates to see his kids get hurt. I brought him straight to him afterward. I watched them stick a needle in my baby's head. No tears. I watched them sew my sons head shut. No tears. The only one that was crying was me. Robert held him and talked to him, made him laugh, and went for the CT scan with him since I couldn't because of the pregnancy.

The lesson learned? My son is braver than I am.


Little Frankenstein.
The jersey is dark, but the whole shoulder was soaked in blood.

Good thing for the helmet.....umm.....I guess......
And something that no mother should ever admit....I quickly took my brand new awesome jacket off before I scooped up Alex and ran because I didn't want it to get soaked with blood and ruined. (Lord please forgive me)
Papa is coming in to town tomorrow, I know I'm seeing my mother and sister on Saturday.....ever see how mad Italian people get when their babies get hurt? My mother wanted to beat up a 3 year old that scratched Alex's face. This should be a fun weekend.

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