You are drinking wine with new friends and your kids and their kids are running around the house like crazy. You are shocked at how well this evening is going. This might be the first time, ever, that you've been over at someone else's house and been able to let the kids play on their own and not worry about anyone getting bitten. Your husband actually says this aloud to your new friends, which makes you cringe just a little. Why worry them? But they don't seem worried.
"They're boys," the new mom friend says. "Let them be boys." You love her instantly.
All five kids run upstairs from the basement playroom and chase each other through the living room, around the corner, and down a hall. You hear a scream, which is most definitely the scream of your child. You and your husband's eyes meet in that silent "you or me?" look. He's up first and goes around the corner.
"Ooh," he says. "Uh oh," he says, a little louder this time. His voice is light-hearted, but there's something in his tone that tells you that everything is not OK. You get up and meet him as he turns the corner. There is blood on your son's head and pouring down his cheeks. It's all over his shirt already and your husband's shirt. You watch as it drips on your new friends' hardwood floor.
You take your son from his arms, maybe more for you than for your son. If you're the one holding him then it can be someone else's responsibility to find out where the blood is coming from and to make it stop. Have I mentioned that you don't do well in stressful situations like this?
"He hit the corner of the wall. It's a small cut over his eyebrow," your husband says. "It's not bad, but it will need to be stitched up."
"OK. I'll take him to the emergency room," you say.
And you're off to the emergency room where the doctor looks at the cut.
By that time you are calm. The blood has stopped.
"Can you seal it up with Dermabond?" you ask the doctor.
"Yes, probably," the doctor says.
"Are you in medicine?" he asks, wondering how you know about Dermabond.
"No," you say, "He has a twin brother, who did almost this exact same thing last year."
After your son has been glued you return home where your husband has already put both of your other children to sleep. Your son might have a scar, which people who can't tell him from brother will appreciate. Plus, he has a good story. Days later he will delight in telling people, "There was blood coming out of my eyes!"
You? You're exhausted. So you sleep. It is a deep sleep, the sleep of the thankful, the sleep of a mother who knows how to appreciate the near miss, who knows that every mother does not return home from a trip to the emergency room with simply a small scar and a story.
I'm happy to hear that Milo is okay. Guys like having scars and a good war story to tell about its origins. It sounds like it starts young. But on your behalf I'm sad that evening of adult conversation and wild, reckless kidsplay, couldn't just be that: a good, fun time. It feels unfair to me. But so is life.
Posted by: choice | April 24, 2008 at 09:36 AM
Glad Milo is ok too.
Posted by: CoolB | April 27, 2008 at 01:10 PM
Glad your little guy is okay.
New to your blog/podcast. Stumbled you through a Google search (a-yup). I'm a newish mommy to a boy and I am so not ready for the dermabond (yet keenly aware it is in the future for my little jumping monkey)
Posted by: Sabrina | May 01, 2008 at 11:16 AM
I found this blog post while doing a search on Dermabond. I, like your son, had an accident requiring dermabond to be applied to a nice little cut right below my eyebrow. Hope he healed well.
Posted by: Casey | August 25, 2009 at 05:55 PM
it's a good post, i like it so much, and i look forward to your next wonderful article.
Posted by: coach outlet | October 29, 2010 at 09:07 PM