WannaBeGythaOgg

Horror movie memories

I had a totally different post planned this afternoon than the one suggested by the title of this blog. I was appreciating my two younger children, who have a great relationship (granted, one is six, and the other is not yet three years old). It's not just that they play together quite a bit, either.

Yesterday, I gave the youngest a crew cut, an act guaranteed to send him into hysterics. I decided to trap him with a strategically placed towel, which I didn't do the LAST time I got ambitious about his hair, resulting in having to struggle to avoid his hands. He kept frantically wiping his head, then scrubbing at his tearful face, and managed to ingest half the hair I cut off. THIS time, however, it went much better (not to mention, FASTER) - he still cried, but couldn't grab his head or get in the way, so I managed to almost complete the job before he figured out how to lose the towel. The important point, though, is that his sister Catherine spent the entire time in the kitchen comforting him. He must have noticed, too, because when she got upset over something today, he immediately went to her, put his arm around her, and told her, "It's all right, Catherine".

So I was feeling pretty good, sitting on the couch with Adam on my lap, chillin' & watchin' some tube, when the back door into the kitchen slammed, accompanied by my daughter Samantha's voice shouting "Mom, I hit my head again! I'm bleeding!"

I don't even remember dumping Adam off my lap, but I hope he hit the floor gently, because I was already running for Sam. When I saw her, I was briefly horrified by her realistic depiction of "Carrie" (remember that movie? I never saw the update, and frankly never sat through the entire original, but did read the book, and I remember plenty of the key scenes). Poor Sam's face was COVERED in blood. The overflow had dripped down her neck, onto her shirt and her jeans, and her hands were also coated from feeling her face.

There's a reason I didn't go into medicine as a career, mostly having to do with my distaste of bodily fluids. However, as a mother, I do seem to have developed the ability to go instantly into crisis mode, where I can ignore the ickiness of the injury in favor of evaluating its seriousness. I can always afford to be icked out AFTER.

Fortunately, it wasn't that bad. The doctor was able to treat it by using that neato new medical glue instead of stitches, and the huge bump on her head should go down after a couple of days. A trip to Build-A-Bear helped to alleviate any residual symptoms. Sam, having had a dose of Tylenol to help the headache, is sitting here reading all this, clutching her new pink bear, and should be fine - no signs of concussion.

I, however, could use a margarita.

posted by PratchettFan @ 9:16 PM