Weekend Drama

And so naturally, being Memorial Day Weekend, it was quiet in our lovely cottage of a home, yes? ha! well, no. That's just not the way we do it, apparently. Saturday. Oh, precious Saturday. Saturday represents the beginning of "I have three days to relax". Saturday is oh, so beautiful to me. Pardon the interruption on my foreseeable weekend future. Way too early Saturday morning Youngest loses a battle with the neighborhood scooter. It's not even our scooter for goodness sakes! Face first into the handlebars. Which happens to not be covered with cushion padding anymore.

Kids will be kids, and there's nothing newsflash-ish about a kid having an accident. But I simply must relay for you the drama that was to follow. First signs of trouble is the sound of Youngest crying. I walk out of the garage to see Soccer Chick carrying him as one would carry a dead body in a horror movie for certain. Draped across her arms and I can hear "breathe. breathe". And me, being me, thinks "He cut up his knee and is 150% drama so she's carrying him". I nonchalantly walk, and I do mean stroll, across the grass to take him out of her arms and begin filling my role of Save The Day Woman. As I approach Soccer Chick says she doesn't know what happened, she turned around and there was blood everywhere. This registers as I see his face, blood was indeed everywhere.

I rush him into the house and into the kitchen where the Hub is cooking breakfast. Now if you know the man, you know this is a production. Smelling good, looking tasty. Yum. I rush Youngest to the sink and begin to use my hands and water to get rid of some of the blood. My thought being let me see how bad it is. Possibly a bloody nose. We got this.

Okay, people. Bear with me on this. Everything changes from this moment on. Blood wiped and I catch the first good look at Youngest's injury. Let's just say, he starred as the blue guy in Avatar. And lest you think I am joking, or exaggerating, please contact any of my children who have since begun calling him Avatar boy. Only saving grace in this is he has no idea what that means. Back to my scene...In between his eyes is a huge gash which has promptly turned blue and is swollen and gushing blood. People, instantaneously, my phsysical well-being changes. I have never experienced such a sensation in my life, but yet, here I stand in the kitchen, no longer Save the Day Woman. But sadly, I have become About to Pass Out Mom. There is blood everywhere and as I look at Youngest, all I can see is a broken nose, disfigured face. That handsome, lady killer in the making - gone! He has turned into Avatar boy. A creature from another land. And I don't feel so good. I'm fanning myself, feeling light headed and like I can't move. I feel like I simply can't breathe.

Somewhere in there Hub runs for a clean washcloth, as if my hand wasn't good enough. jeesh. Despite my many comforting statements to Youngest, he's hysterical. I can feel that I am light-headed and not feeling so good. As I stand at the sink, I feel my legs buckle and on the floor I go. I think I even manage to say to Avatar boy, "I can't stand up anymore".

People...picture the scene. My son, 4 years old, is at the sink bleeding profusely, he has turned into a blue creature and is staring at me out of the strangest slanted eyes. I almost didn't recognize him. And I am on the floor. Repetitive phrases of "it's okay, breathe." don't seem to be helping me too much. Hub walks in and says "what are YOU doing?" Guys, I was laughing then and I'm laughing now. I'm thinking, I know...this is ridiculous. I can't explain what is happening at this very moment. I have never had a "fall out" experience like this before. But here I lay, face up on the floor, can't breathe, definitely NOT Save the Day Woman and I glance up to Youngest, from a now really comfortable spot on the floor and he has stopped crying. He's staring at me, I'm sure thinking "my mother has lost her mind". I thank God at this very moment that our in-home security system does not include interior video-taping.

Hub rushes me some water, to which I continue to profess "I'm okay, I'm okay" and he tends to Youngest. Who has promptly resumed crying. People, I really can't believe at this point that I am lying on the floor and Hub has not one, but two crisis-stricken people to take care of. I'm not sure when I became the basketcase, but nonetheless, here I lie.

Youngest is quite obviously going to the hospital for quite a bit of stiches. the Hub's food...forget about it. Cold and stored in the fridge. Weekend relaxing time? Apparently, not in this cottage. As they rush off to the hospital and siblings stand around the departing car with terror stricken faces, all I can think is "I fainted on the floor. My kid was bleeding and crying and I fainted on the floor". I bid them farewell, gave them a reassuring wave, and began my prayers of "no broken nose" pleas. And then I did what any good girl would do. I called my mommy.