Start the music to the left over there...it's appropriate for the story...
Thursday night was pretty routine. Really, it was! But it's the routine days that sometimes come and bite ya in the hiney. (warning: real-life, grown-up language to follow!)
Urban Dad was watching basketball with Urban Kid 1 while I went back and put Urban Kid 2 down to bed. All was peaceful in the Urban Household. All was routine.
Urban Dad has been on Spring Break this week. This means that things are busier than ever as we try to get all of the stuff done that will now not get done again until he is off for the summer. So he was FINALLY getting a chance to sit down and watch some March Madness. Finally, for just ONE NIGHT, to relax and do nothing for the evening.
But Urban Kid 1 is 4 1/2 years old. And no matter how much you run her around during the day, she can NOT sit still. Ever. Two speeds, that one.
After putting down Urban Kid 2 into a peaceful slumber, I came out into the living room. With my hands in my pockets. As I came out, Urban Dad was looking at the tv while gently scolding UK1 to not jump on the couch. She was listening as well as ever, bouncing all around. I came out and stood facing them, with my hands in my pockets, somewhere between the couch and the marble coffee table.
Did you get that part? Marble Coffee Table.
As I stood there with my hands in my pockets, and as UK1 ignored UD's admonishing, UK1 decided that it was my turn to share the love. And she jumped on me.
But my hands were in my pockets.
She fell to the floor first on her rump (thankyougod, thankyougod). But the back of her head then went back towards the marble coffee table. The corner of it.
UD and I scooped her up onto the couch (hands out of pockets now, thank you) and held her, soothed her and yet reminded her that she was not supposed to be jumping around (and she's been told on numerous occasions to NOT jump on Mom). I held the back of her head, but felt something weird. I took my hand from her head and looked at my fingers.
Dude, there's blood on my hands. She's bleeding.
Oh shit, are you kidding, let me see. Shit! Dammit (UK1), why don't you just listen for once?
WAAAAHHHHHH! MY HEAD HURTS!!!!!!!!!!!
(I ran for a towel and put it up against her head, right where the blonde was getting darker and darker)
It's really bleeding.
Dammit! Let me see it. Shit, we need to go to the ER. She needs stitches.
I DON'T WANT TO GO! I'M TOO TIRED! I WANT TO GO TO BED! WAAAAAAAAAH!
Why didn't you catch her? Why did you just watch her fall?
Dude, it was an accident! I didn't know she was coming! You need to stop. You're scaring her.
All I wanted to do was sit down and do nothing for one night. One night! Now we have to go spend all night at Children's. Shit!
WAAAAAAHHHH! I DON'T WANT TO GO! I'M TOO TIRED! I WANT TO GO TO BED!
(backstory moment: the last time UD made a middle-of-the-night ER run with UK1, it was for a raging ear infection. they waited over three hours to see a doctor. UK1 vomited on him 2X in the waiting room)
(While he held the towel, I started putting on my coat and shoes)
I'll take her.
No I'LL TAKE her. (great, he's going all cave-man now)
WAAAAAAAAH! I'M TOO TIRED! I DON'T WANT TO GO!
You NEED to go. You know better than to jump on Mommy. I told you to stop jumping on the couch. Dammit!
Would you STOP. You are scaring her! I will take her. (I had no idea how to strap her into the car and hold the towel while driving, but I've figured out weirder things in a pinch)
No, I'll take her. I'll take her. Get an old coat, let's go.
Then you HAVE to calm down and stop freaking her out.
And off they went. I saw them to the door and stood on the porch while he carried her down the sidewalk to Halsted, where he would catch a cab to Children's Memorial. UK1 cried for her Mommy the whole way. Geez, real heart-string-yanking crying too.
So what was I supposed to do? Watch tv and eat cookies? I threw away the towel -- it was old and scuzzy and now soaked with my daughter's blood. I didn't want it anymore.
I called the Pink Power Ranger, who was fairly helpful. She gave me the number of a paramedic girlfriend of hers, who was actually very soothing. "The head bleeds a lot. That much crying is actually a good sign." That kind of thing.
So I started sorting and doing laundry. I become very productive when rattled. Then I found UD's cell phone. God, his technophobia can be annoying. I didn't expect that he would go out to Lincoln and Halsted to panhandle for the change for a payphone, so I called the hospital.
This is (UK1)'s mom. My husband brought her in, and I'm standing here holding his phone. Can you tell me what's happening?
Yeah, they're going to see the doctor soon. You want me to have him call you?
Could you? Thanks so much. Tell me, is he a total HeadCase?
(she refrains from giggling, but only barely)
Noooooooo, he's fine. I'll have him call you.
He called later and seemed completely calm. Good, he was no longer freaking anybody out.
She's fine. She's getting one staple. They don't even have to shave the area. You'll need to make a doctor's appointment to have it removed. They have a kit-thing here you're supposed to take. She's making friends with all of the nurses and the other kids too. Everything's fine.
Once they got home, I gingerly got UK1 ready for bed.
I'm tired. I'm going to sleep in tomorrow. I told everyone there that I'm sleeping in tomorrow.
Ok, sweetie. You sleep as late as you want. You want me to lie here on the floor next to you til you fall asleep?
Yeah. I'm going to sleep on my side, ok?
As she's about to doze off, she lifts her head and looks over her shoulder at me.
Mom, for my next birthday, can we have ice cream and cake?
And with that, she dozed off.
So two things have been learned here:
1. We needed to re-examine child-proofing around here. AND WE HAVE.
2. When the UK's learn to swear, it will not be from me in traffic after all.