Another hair-raising incident in the raising of young children!
I'm rather laid-up today as my ankle attempts to purge itself of the pain and swelling stemming from this morning's injury. Michael is home from work as well, with a flare-up of his back. The girls were getting a little crazy with the boringness of the day, so I sent them out onto the deck to play in the sandbox and run off some of their energy. Rabbit was swinging around a toy on a string and I asked her to stop swinging it because I didn't want her hitting anyone with it.
Two minutes later, Bluebird let out a blood-curdling scream and started running around with her hand clasping her scalp. I looked up to see Rabbit hurriedly dropping her toy on the string...
Bluebird was screaming her head off, so I ushered her inside where she could scream without disturbing the neighbors (just go with me here...) and then marched Rabbit inside to go to her bedroom and sit in her bed for not listening. Bluebird was still screaming, so I turned around to calm her down only to see my five year old daughter with rivulets of blood streaming down her face and drenching the front of her dress.
Now, I like to think of myself as somewhat cool-headed in the face of a medical emergency; but I've never met a medical emergency with one of my children, and apparently there's some little switch that goes off in my mother's brain when I see my child dripping with blood that opens the gates of momentary hysteria. I let out a fine scream and couldn't move for few moments as I gaped at the horrific sight.
But, thankfully, it was a momentary paralysis of fear and then the Mama Bear instinct kicked in--I whisked her into the bathroom and began blotting and applying pressure and yelling at Michael to HELP ME! (He had been taking a nap and had somehow managed to sleep through all the screaming and crying and hysterics.)
End result: Bluebird sustained a 1/4 inch abrasion on the top of her head. Seriously. Now I know that head injuries bleed a lot, but wow...
And my twisted ankle hurts so much more now that my adrenaline rush is over. Don't run with children in your arms when your ankle is hurting! The Mama Bear instinct knows nothing about self-preservation.
And I'm OK with that.
(And Bluebird is doing fine, once I got her calmed down and reassured her that just because her head was gushing blood did not mean that her skull was broken and her brain was smashed. Poor girl.)