OK, so this picture is the happy ending of a really scary story. So, while you process the fact that you are looking at a picture of a bloody kid eating popsicles, let me explain. As per usual, when your world is calm and happy and you start to think you have things under control, life decides that you maybe need a good ass kicking just to keep you humble. In our case, the ass kicking really was second hand. Our poor girl met up with the business end of our dog Harvey and she lost big time.
Cayton, my friend Teresa and I were all sitting around the table outside and Cayton was running around after the dog. I had been watching her because I don't let her play with the dogs unattended. Anyway, I turned to say something to Teresa and in that instant, Monday went completely down the drain. I heard the incident before I saw it. Harvey started freaking out and I turned to him, ready to tell him to lay off of Sophie (our other dog) as they play fight all the time. But, what I saw will be seared into my mind for as long as I retain my sanity. I saw Harvey with his mouth on my girl and then he seemed to realize what he'd done and he backed off with, I swear, an "Oh crap" look on his face. Then, Cayton started screaming and I think I actually vaulted out of my chair and landed in front of her in a single bound.
When I got to her, I saw some marks on the back of Cayton's neck and they were just minor abrasions, so I felt better immediately. Then, I straightened up and noticed (in a strange out of body kind of way) that my hand was covered in blood. Then, I backed up and looked at Cayton and saw that the left side of her head was covered in blood. Knowing my limits, I didn't even stop to examine the wound, I just grabbed her and ran into the house with Teresa and the baby leading the way. Blake came running into the kitchen from another part of the house, no doubt drawn by the sounds of two hysterical women and a screaming three year old.
All I remember was thrusting Cayton toward Blake and saying, "Is it bad? Is it bad?" Thankfully, Blake has the self-control and calm of a slab of granite, so he glanced at her, looked at me with a face devoid of expression and said, "It's not bad, but bad enough that I have to take her to the hospital." So, he grabbed her and left immediately. Meanwhile, Teresa had the baby and insisted that she would stay and watch the baby and I should jump in the car with Blake. I made it down the stairs and out into the garage before it dawned on me that I had to take the baby since otherwise she would have nothing to eat until I got back. Given that an ER visit can take several hours, I thought neither Teresa nor Vivian would be happy with me. So, Teresa had to drive Vivi and me to St. Francis since we didn't want Blake to have to wait on all of us to get our selves together enough to figure out what we were doing.
Cayton was seen immediately at St. Francis and the nurse assured us that the wound was not bad and was a clean, straight gash. Apparently, if you are going to be gashed in the head, this is the way to go. She also said that head wounds often look worse than they are because they bleed so profusely. I have to say, Cayton did look like she'd just arrived from the war front. I figured that her appearance would scare the patients in the ER waiting room. Several little kids did stop to gawk. Anyway, the doctors and physician assistants were amazing. I would never have thought that you could put three staples in a kid's head without restraints, but they managed it. Plus, she rode out of there on her Daddy's shoulders with two popsicles and a smile, so I would say that they are actually beyond amazing.
So, now I sit here sufficiently humbled by whatever cosmic forces are in charge of keeping us in line and I am trying to find something in all of this that I can take with me. I guess it helps a little, when tough things happen, to think that there is reason or wisdom that can come from it and that it isn't completely random. Here is what I have so far:
1. Seriously, don't get in the dog's face.
2. Kids are extremely resilient, brave little things. Surprisingly so...
3. Even at 33, it's totally acceptable to call your mama and sob uncontrollably. She will listen because she wants to and not because she has to.
4. The choice between your child and a beloved pet is easy. The follow through is tough.
5. You can't protect your kid from harm, even if you are sitting 5 feet away. So, it's best to leave self-doubt and blame behind and realize, as the aforementioned mama told me, "Shit happens and you can't do a damn thing about it."
6. The only easy thing about being a parent is loving your babies. Everything else is HARD.
