I Can’t Count As High…

…as the number of days it’s been since I blogged.
(Please know I am kidding… I really can count that high.)
I felt motivated by my traumatic day yesterday, and the fact that I’m avoiding schoolwork tonight.
So… yesterday!
If you don’t already know, Ollie is a giant ball of mobility. I’m guessing he weighs around 28 pounds. I meant to have him weighed yesterday, but forgot.
So anyway, like any other morning, he’s tearing it up in here. He’s crawling everywhere, pulling himself up on the walk-behind toy he has and walking across the floor, standing in the middle of the room, no-hands style. I’m plugging away, trying to get some work done, answering emails. He beelines for the barstool and attempts to pull himself up. I sigh and start to stand up, ready to retreive my child from the dangers of furniture.
He bends backwards in some strange way, trying to look at the light about 4 feet behind him on the ceiling. I can see it coming…. and there he went. He falls backwards before I can get to him. The back of his head hits the seat of the dining room chair, and the barstool hits him in the front and lands on top of him.
This was the moment I’ve been dreading. There’s blood. Lots of blood.
He’s trying to sit back up as I throw the barstool to the side. When I’m sure I can move him, I pick him up and began the chant “Oh my God, Oh my God…” which I think I repeated for at least 10 minutes. Everything was quick. I ran into the bedroom, bleeding kid in my arms, to throw on some jeans, because pj’s were not going to cut it. I grabbed a shirt to pull over my tank top, and threw my shoes on without socks. (One thing I cannot STAND is tennies without socks…. YUCK.) I grab the diaper bag, which I just got done emptying, and frantically run to grab a bottle and add it to the bag. The entire time, I’m debating in my head how to drive to the hospital with Ollie in his seat safely buckled in, me in the front, and putting pressure on his head to stop the bleeding. I RUN out to the car, throw open the backseat, and start fastening Ollie in. Meanwhile I call Nick at work and tell him to meet me at the hospital, and call my mom and tell her to be waiting outside, because it was an emergency and I needed her help.
Ollie is screaming like crazy, and absolutely covered in blood. He’s not wearing any pants, and his cute little legs were smeared red. His new Clifford shirt was covered.
I throw myself into the driver’s seat and reach for the ignition. No keys. Where the f… are my keys?!?!?!?!?! I run into the house and am throwing stuff all over looking frantically for my keys. I’m still muttering “Oh my God”, and am 98% sure that my kid is going to die while I’m LOOKING FOR MY F’ING KEYS.
Find them in a plastic bag with new clothes for Ollie and apparently my iPod. (Discovered the iPod later in the mud by the front door.) Plastic bag is hung up on keys, and I drag clothes out the door and drop them in a trail to the car. Don’t care. Leaving.
Mom is in her driveway, and I can honestly say that at that moment I was REALLY glad that she lived on the way to town. She drives, I put pressure on Ollie’s head to stop the bleeding.
Halfway into town, I recommend that mom try to stay reasonably within the speed limit, because I don’t have a purse with me. No insurance card, nothing. Could be interesting. She does good, and we don’t see any cops anyway. I focus on keeping Ollie awake, and for part of the drive, it was a hard fight. I clapped right in front of his face a couple times, I sang to him, we played patty-cake, and I made him follow my movements.
Pull into hospital, where Nick comes rushing out the door. He’s already pre-registered Ollie, and we walk up to the check-in desk. Bleeding has really slowed down now, but he still looks horrible. They call the nurse to come get us, and we are pulled into the first room to get checked out.
She does some careful cleaning, trying to find the cut. I had given up, because I couldn’t stand another second at home looking for the cut when there was blood everywhere. That’s one thing about living 15 miles from town… you leave, then assess the situation. If there’s any possibility that it’s really serious, you get out of there.
Eventually she finds what really isn’t a huge cut. (But it sure bled a lot!!!) She calls back and asks if Aleathea has a room. When she hangs up I say “We get to see Dr. Aleathea?” She looks at me a little confused and says “yeah.” I think at that point I started to relax a little, and while it was nice to feel some relief, at the same time it left me nearly on the verge of tears. Everything was catching up to me now.
Ollie got to settle in with some apple juice and the situation was assessed. The super-glue method was opted for, under the agreement that trying to hold that kid still to put stitches in was going to be near impossible, and it would be two stitches at the most.
So prep began. What fun. Nick swaddled Ollie, although he missed his legs. The nurse held Ollie’s head, and Ollie got MAD. Aleathea applied super-glue, and Nick got kicked in the crotch. I found this convienient, since I was seriously questioning why I would want to have another child to go through this with.

I call the second one his “gangsta” look. I don’t know what that is about. He’s strange. Anyway, you can see the cut right around his hairline.
He had a pretty good egg swollen up on his head when we left the hospital, but a few hours later all that was noticable was the glue and a little bit of dried blood. Today you can see the clot under the glue pretty well.
Stopped at Tanger Outlet Mall today and there were free Easter Bunny photos. Ollie looks adorable, but you can see the scab in the picture. (If you didn’t know it was there you might not notice, though.)
Then we stopped at Target, where Prasad, the cashier, asked to hear the story. When I come in with Ollie, he talks to him, and watches him… I think he likes kids. I explained what had happened, and he shook his finger at Ollie and said “you’re a naughty boy, pulling stunts like that.”
So the last two nights I’ve been super-paranoid mom, checking on Ollie repeatedly all night long. He’s shown no symptoms of having hit is head – no sleepiness, no bruising, no big ol’ knot on his head… just a scab covered in glue. But, it makes me feel better to make sure he’s okay. He even slept all night long like normal. Although I haven’t found anything that messes with his schedule except if he wets through pre-morning. One night he did at midnight, which was crazy, but I was awake working on Children’s Lit, so I just brought him out to the couch and read him Charlotte’s Web. He cuddled. He only cuddles when he’s super tired or sick. I wish he did it more…
I love that kid.
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