Nerdy Apple Bottom

Last week I went to Paradise Park to meet up with a couple of my girlfriends and their kids. We were all off for Christmas break so there were 3 women, 1 daughter, 6 sons, 1 foster baby boy, and 1 indeterminate baby in utero.

I took the boys to the gym to keep working on my 5k training, then picked up Peanut from a sleepover and was only a little late meeting CPA. A short while later, our other friend arrived. The kids played at the water table, did a little face painting, and generally just checked everything out. The adults were able to hang out and chat for about 20 minutes or so before IT happened.

Bubba fell (or was pushed). He came running at me. Now in the 3 seconds it took for him to get to me I thought the following things:
*sigh, he fell. Again. He always falls.
He’s crying really loud.
Where did he get red face paint?
Why is his face paint leaking?
SHIT! HE’S BLEEDING!
ER.
I have all the kids with me. How am I going to get them all in the van and too the ER?

Then he was in front of me. Fortunately my first aid training kicked in, and I immediately applied pressure. It was bleeding. A lot. As in squirting. He was FREAKED out. CPA asked if she should call 911. I said yes. The medics that arrived were Fire Rescue. The Detective’s cousin is a firefighter in that city and I shamelessly name dropped him. Hey, if it meant any slightly better care for my baby, I didn’t care. They determined he’d need stitches right away. Bubba wouldn’t agree to be transported so they carried him out and got him in my van. They also called ahead to the hospital to make sure he’d get seen immediately. They were great.

Peanut on the other hand wasn’t taking it too well. She felt responsible and kept bursting into tears. I wanted to make her feel better, but I had to focus on Bubba. Fortunately my girlfriends were super caring and maternal with her and helped make her feel better.

The Detective met us at the ER. Actually he arrived before we did which is a little scary as he was nowhere near the area when he got the call. Bubba had calmed down some, but was still covered in blood.

So the pictures below are not for the squeamish. It took 8 stitches, 2 on the inside to close him up. No need for an x-ray either as the doc could see through the wound to his skull and that there was no fracture there.

And it really, really sucked.

But the hypochondriac in Bubba secretly loved it. The hydrogen peroxide, the neosporin, the bandages, the pills.

I just hope it never happens again.