Good gravy. We’ve had my first real week of “Welcome to the World of Having Two Boys.”
I mean, we’ve had five and a half years of whirlwind that doesn’t stop and that plays only cackling, destructive games.
And we’ve had four years of banging things with sticks and picking gross stuff out of the street.
And two years of shooting at everything with imaginary guns.
And a year and a half of trucks and trucks and trucks. Good gawd with the trucks.
But this was the week of multiple calls to the doctor to ask “does this need stitches?”
The older one found a barnacled mollusk shell, put it on a board, stood in front of it, and stomped. Shell embedded for a moment, then fell off, leaving a one inch horizontal and one inch vertical cut in his forehead. Stitches? Probably needed it, but it was Saturday at 5pm, there’s no urgent care here, and I have iodine, skin glue, and butterfly bandages. No stitches.
The younger one climbed on a dining room chair after a long day with no nap (don’t blame me; I tried everything to get that boy to sleep). Fell off and bit through his lip. Two beautiful, hard-won teeth made two nasty cuts into his beautiful lower lip. Nasty. Deep. Blood everywhere. Stitches? Doc says we don’t stitch lips unless there’s a flap hanging or the hole on the inside of his mouth is so big food will get caught in it. I wiped away my tears, threw up in my mouth a little at the description of how it would heal, and agreed: no stitches.
So I guess, it was a good week? Oh, wait. It’s Tuesday. Gulp. Four days, four gashes, no stitches. Seems like I’m doing a good job? [Grins like the cat that threw a seashell at a canary then pushed it off a chair.]
NaptimeWriting 
Geez Nap, beat your kids senseless, huh?
I think it’s time to break out the football pads for INSIDE the house.
ot: I passed my test from hell. I’m officially certified. weeeeee!
YAY FOR YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD UNICORN!
How do those adorable babies become this? Yikes. I’m happy there were no stitches needed, though.
My son climbed up three rungs of a livestock gate yesterday, stuck his head through the slats, and then somersaulted headfirst into the ram pasture five feet down. This all happened in the two seconds I was turned away to grab the rake, and when I turned back, he was sitting there in the middle of the sheep poop looking quite stunned. No tears, but he did immediately grab two fistfuls of sheep poop.
I would like to thank you for calling the doctor and sharing his or her answer with us. On Monday, my son somehow fell over my husbands leg on the front porch (i’m still unclear of the details) and put his top teeth through his bottom lip. I was more concerned about the blood around his teeth and instead of the doctor, called my Mom to ask if they would turn grey and be permanently damaged…as permanently damaged as baby teeth can be. As a mother of 5, she knows these things. But, thankfully, bottom lip has unswelled considerably and we have stopped our search for a clear cork-able bottle for his two front teeth. Still in tact. Still white.
And now you know why I have my pediatrician’s cell number. And she will even see me at her house. Last visit, no lie, to dig a whale of a sliver out of my son’s a$$. It was more like a log to tell you the truth. She is so awesome and I would never give her up for anything.
ARGH. Now that’s a bloody week.
May you sail through the weekend injury-free.
@Kristen sounds like a good time was had by all, including the sheep.
@Emily this is our second child and our second major dental emergency. Three dentists now, one of whom is the best on the planet, have said no need to worry about lips as long as there is not a through-and-through cut. The latter also said teeth don’t puncture lips; lips stretch around the tooth until they can’t stretch anymore and tear. So that’s disgusting and reassuring, I guess. The tooth darkening can happen up to a year later; the two possible problems are cyst above the baby tooth and damage to the permanent tooth. See a dentist immediately if it darkens, feels loose, or is chipped. Otherwise wait for the gross, greyish white scabs to go away and tell your husband to thank his stars kips don’t scar. Mostly.
@Cathy I will give you two million dollars for her number.
@LetMeStart since I wrote the post the youngest has slammed his finger in the pinchy part of the door and banged his eye on the corner of the bed. It’s going to be a long childhood.
I’m wincing and screwing up my face in a dreadful grimace. And remembering. I have two boys: 8 and 10. We’ve had numerous bloody issues but so far, both boys *are* still alive and the scars are relatively (because all things are relative) faint. Time will tell if they’ll actually survive into adulthood.
PS Popsicles can be a helpful distraction during a drive to the doctor to repair mouth injuries. If the blood isn’t flowing like Niagra.
Stephane, I’m freaked about popsicles because one of Peanut’s friends fell and cut her mouth and her pediatrician said give her a popsicle for the drive over and the dentist said, “boy that was the worst thing ever because she had fractured her jaw and the sucking displaced it.” Of course, the truly wounded just lick popsicles, right? So I should just do that next time. And a margarita popsicle for me.
?CRAP! You’re kidding me! Well that certainly “sucks.” (Yes, that was a very feeble attempt at humor.) Gawd, it seems like absolutely everything is dangerous now. But good to know, I guess. By-the-by, anyone who would request a Margarita popsicle is truly tip-top in my book.