Once Upon A Time.

Once upon a time, a morning started out just lovely. There was coffee, a day off work, and some leisurely reading while the kids played quietly in the background. It was truly ideal.


And then.


If you are familiar with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, you know at the end there is the "hot dog dance". And you also know if you aren't very coordinated, it might be a little tricky. And just like that the children were laughing and dancing to the tune of "hot dog, hot dog, hot diggety dog..." and then there was a bone chilling scream and hysteria and blood spurting everywhere.


And being the calm mother that I am, I took one look and yelled, "oh my gosh, we gotta go to the hospital!", producing further hysteria. Super mom right there.


And of course, even though normally I've gotten dressed and had two cups of coffee by 10 am, on this day I was still in my pajamas, makeup-free. And of course, even though we have a whole closet full of medical supplies, I was unable to find any gauze. Maybe because I was fervently praying that I wouldn't pass out every time I looked at my child.


So, I taped a folded-up paper towel to her head, and we rode down to the ER in pajamas, or what I like to refer to as ghetto-style, at approximately 80 miles an hour, with a 4 year old screaming at the top of her lungs, and her mom yelling equally loud "DO NOT MOVE THAT PAPER TOWEL!"


And we arrived at the hospital...and waited 4 hours... and then they asked me to remove the paper towel. At which time I noticed that the corner of the table had punctured through all of the layers of skin and there was something white and gooey under that. At which time I started to feel... sweaty... and the doctor kindly said... "You okay mom? You aren't looking so good." To which I responded something like "I'm good. Seeing spots. Whew, do you have a bed because I'm about... to... pass... ..... o...u....t...." and then I was in the bed next to Savannah. Super mom. But at least I made it all of the way to the hospital.





There were internal and external stitches... and an awesome doctor who sang princess songs... and then there was ice cream.





A week later, the stitches came out, but the wound was still rather open. So she had to have some steri-strips and band-aids for a week.





Which apparently is just fine if you have Angry Birds band-aids.





And now, two weeks later, it has healed up really well, with only a small scar. And we all survived our first major blood trauma. Hopefully there are no more. And hopefully if there are, someone more capable of handling bodily fluids is home. And has had a shower. Or can at least locate gauze. Or something.