There's nothing like motherhood to remind you of your weaknesses.
John was sick yesterday and I have a 24 hour rule (they must be feeling well - not barfing, not fevering - for 24 hours before real life resumes.) so I stayed home from work today.
By 2pm we'd watched 8 million shows and needed to get out, but could go anywhere because of all the germs (SOOO many germs). So, we decided to go to the church parking lot to ride bikes.
Before leaving I made Tommy show me how he knows how to turn left, turn right, start and stop the bike. He did great. His bike has training wheels. He loves it and it was well past time for him to have one so he picked it up easily this week.
So I put both kids (and Tommy's new little bike) in the bike trailer. and rode around the corner to the church. He got out and started to ride, he was doing great and John was getting bored so I hopped back on my bike to ride in some circles around the parking lot too.
Tommy rode North and South, then slowly started heading East. Here's the thing about East around here - East is up. Always. And after East come West.
He turned around and started riding down, I reminded him to "pedal backwards, put on the brakes, STTTOOOOOOPPPP!!!!!" but I was too slow getting off my bike (with John) and across the parking lot to rescue him. He ran straight into the curb and flew off the bike smacking his chin on the sidewalk.
He screamed. But here's the thing about Tommy. He is good at screaming. So it didn't sound any different from his "John took the ball from me" scream. So I jogged slowly across the parking lot to assess.
But then I saw the pool of blood and ran.
I checked his mouth, his nose and his head (he was wearing a helmet) and couldn't find the source. But it was clearly still coming and had a handful of it in addition to the puddle on the sidewalk.
Then I saw it. Sortof.
Right under his chin, I could see the blood still coming.
In case you were wondering blood, needles, skin openings, all of it makes me woozy. Unreasonably so. I am the world's sissiest mom.
I stuck my hand under his chin, and picked him up and asked if he was OK.
"I really really biffed it mom!!!!!" he howled.
I hauled him up to my bike where John was still sitting in the trailer enjoying his goldfish crackers and tried to put him in so we could ride home. He was having none of that.
So I got John out and carried/walked/dragged both kids back to my house dripping bits of blood along the way.
When we got home and cleaned it up enough to see, I immediately called my mom to see if he needed stitches. She had no idea, but she came over to look anyway.
The concern for me was the stuff coming out of the wound. The non blood stuff. The guts.
We called the nurse at my pediatricians office (3 cheers for Alpine Pediatrics - again!) who made and appointment for me to come in and get him stitched.
Fortunately (for me) Josh came home before the appointment and we all went together. We talked about what they'd say beforehand and what would happen and he was amazing. Unreasonably so. He jumped right up on the table and showed his "biffed it" to the nurse (who fell in love immediately...because who wouldn't really?) he giggled at her jokes and smiled while she got everything ready.
And he let her clean him up while I held his hand and he watched The Incredibles.
After a while we were just waiting for the numbing gel to do it's job because when the Dr. (Brian something I think? We were never properly introduced...) tried to shove the guts back in they wouldn't go and he needed to "apply more pressure".
There's something slightly horrifying about seeing a kid lay on a table like that.
It took some convincing (and distraction) for him to let dad hold his hand for the worst part (the putting those guts back in and stitching them closed) but fortunately (for me) he did and Josh watched with amazement as he always does with things that make my stomach turn.
Once the Dr. got out his tools, needles, cutting things, and the "sterile environment" stuff; my baby was covered with blue sheets and looked like he belonged in an operating room I tried harder to be distracted. I couldn't even see anything and I had to turn my body toward the door and play finger games with Little John just to stay conscious.
They gave him more shots in the chin, said something about a bad bruise, and kept asking him if that hurt - I never heard a response from him so I assume that means no.
Josh said he was amazing. He just laid there and nearly fell asleep.
Tommy got to choose some prizes afterward and made sure to choose one extra "for Little John" mysteriously Little John's broke first. Either way, Tommy came home bouncing with pride and joy and had an unreasonably good time.
Josh said it was totally different from watching them cut someone you don't know open. But he still thought it was cool.
And I have vowed never to do anything even remotely dangerous again, because guts spilling out of faces ought to be a once in a lifetime event.
My mom told me I have officially entered the mom club now. So...there's that.