At least that's what it feels like around here this weekend...
I guess I have to blog about Henry getting his finger crushed in the car door. I don't really want to relive those moments. I want to pretend it never happened.
First let me say that Henry and his finger are recovering nicely. There doesn't seem to be the type of damage that won't heal with time. I can say that 48 hours after the incident. At the time it happened, however, I was terribly frightened and trying not to show it. Henry was hysterical. His full out screams lasted for over an hour.
Like all moms, I tell my boys to keep their hands away from the car doors. I am constantly saying "watch your fingers" as we enter and exit our car. We had just arrived home and I was unloading the car when my task was interrupted by Henry shoving and grabbing a toy from his brother. I put him in house (saying he needed a time out) and I comforted Liam in the garage. Then I began unloading more bags from the front seat. Henry came out of the house screaming about the toy--a real no nap, I'm hungry and I want that toy tantrum. I closed the passenger door not knowing that Henry had his little hand resting on the hinge section near the mirror. His screams changed and I looked at him. In that moment it felt like time stopped. I'll never forget the look on his face or the sickening feeling in my stomach.
Again, let me say that he is okay. His finger is whole and wholly attached. But standing there in the garage I had no way of knowing that. My first thought was to rush him to the emergency room. He was so hysterical there was no way I was going to get him in his car seat much less buckled in. His screams were horrific. There is nothing more awful than hearing one's child scream like that except maybe knowing that you caused the trauma.
I brought Henry in the house and we sat on the couch. A neighbor suggested I turn on cartoons to distract him. He watched Mickey Mouse Clubhouse while sobbing. He did seem to find some comfort in grasping cold packs in his little hand. Each time I brought up the "d" word, he screamed louder. There was no way I was going to get him to the ER without sedating him first. So I called my pediatrician's answering service. The doctor called fifteen minutes later and it was determined that I could keep Henry calm and wait until morning to have the finger looked at. (Apparently with finger injuries it's the bleeding you need to worry about most--they don't do casts for fingers so x-rays are often unnecessary.)
It's too late to make this a short story but I'll quickly summarize the rest. Henry went to bed with a dose of children's ibuprofen and a cold pack. He woke once around 1:30 and then slept until 7 am. When he came downstairs, the first thing he said to me was Mom, you forgot to lay out my clothes for today. He went to the refrigerator to get a fresh cold pack and proceeded to the couch in order to watch cartoons. And of course, I pretty much let him sit in front of the TV all day. I might have even given him a few M&Ms for breakfast...I was so stunned and relieved that he was back to normal.
Not to be outdone, Liam took a tumble on the patio. I was standing four inches in front of him but my back was turned. I think he was trying to get around me when he fell. There was the tiniest bit of bleeding around his nose right after it happened. I cleaned him up and he went off to play. But Sunday morning Liam woke up looking like this:
Yes, we had quite the weekend. Lots of extra cuddling, bedtime stories and ice cream. Well, not in that order...