"...So help me heal these wounds..."

Well, kids, it finally happened. I joined the ranks of mommies who rush a bloody kid into the ER. I don't recommend it.

We got together with our friends Jimmy and Nissa and their girls for the annual "Veghson" pumpkin carving night. It started out great! We ate some taco soup, mocked Scott for his recycling obsession and laughed until we cried at the look on Jimmy's face when Jack told him that Emma, their youngest daughter, let his "kitty" out. (Jack struggles a bit with the "k" sound--it comes out like a "t" so you can imagine Jimmy's blatant confusion as he tried to figure out what Jack was saying SURE that he'd heard him wrong!) We carved pumpkins (Emma wanted a cat on her pumpkin and Jimmy found a pattern, but but was kind of difficult. Determined to make his little girl happy, though, he went to work. We were teasing him that if he didn't do it, she'd be working in a topless bar before she's 16 and she'll be on Dr. Phil in a halter top and pointy shoes saying, "If only my dad carved that pumpkin for me when I was 3..." Emma came running by, playing with Jack and her sister Brook and asked Jimmy what he was doing. He said, "Carving your pumpkin, kiddo. Trying to keep you off the pole!" Oh my gosh, it makes my sides hurt just thinking about it. Anyway, that was pretty much the last good moment because shortly after that, Jack lets out this death shriek and comes running into the dining room holding his face and bleeding like crazy. We asked what happened and he said he "bonked." I assumed he hit someone's head and just had a bloody nose. Scott went to investigate and Nissa and I went to interrogate. The girls said he tripped and hit his nose on the corner of a built-in entertainment center in the living room. Jimmy went in with Scott and came out telling me Jack was going to need stitches. I didn't have time to panic--just went into mommy survival mode. We started grabbing shoes and keys and cell phone and purse and headed to the ER. Scott sat in the back with the victim while I drove like a mad woman to the hospital. He was pretty much screaming the whole time. They got us into a room pretty quickly and put a topical on it. I read some stories to Jack while Scott held him and pretty soon he fell asleep. (Pardon my crappy cell phone pictures!)

They put the cotton ball on there and Jack was so upset that he'd never be able to blow his nose again! I was hoping he'd stay asleep, since we knew he'd need stitches. Finally, he did wake up and someone came in saying he just needed to get some "reinforcements" and they'd be back to stitch him up. That's pretty much when I started to cry. He came back with a nurse, they had him stand up and they had him put his hands behind his back and put his arms in a pillowcase. Then they wrapped him with a sheet and laid him down on the bed. The EMT held his head, the nurse held his torso and Scott held his legs and the doctor came in to stitch him up. He was thrashing and screaming at the top of his lungs things like, "Let me out of this thing!" "I just want a Band-Aid and I want one RIGHT NOW!", "Stop hurting me!" "Daddy, make them stop hurting me!", "You're a mean doctor! I don't like you one little bit!" I stood behind the dr where I couldn't see what they were doing to my baby and he couldn't see me sobbing. I swear I felt every little thing he did and it was so horrible. If I could have traded places with him I would have done it in a second. It was horrible to hear him scream and know that not only could I not do anything about it, it was for his own good. He pretty much hates that ER doctor with an absolute, burning, undying passion and I don't blame him--he wasn't very sympathetic. The nurse and EMT were great, but the doctor was like, "You don't have to like me, I'm not going anywhere." Dude, he's 3. There are 3 people holding him down, a crazy bright light shining in his face and he can see you sewing his face with a needle. No duh he's freaking out. It was pretty much horrific. 5 stitches later, we were out of there. Jack wanted far, far away from the "mean doctor" ("Doctors aren't supposed to hurt people, they're supposed to make people BETTER" he reminds us in the car.) We went home and told Jack he could sleep in our bed last night, knowing it would be a rough night. It was. He was up off and on until about one having nightmares about the whole ordeal--he would start crying in his sleep and mumbling that the light is too bright--but finally fell asleep until about 7 this morning. Of course, I slept like crap, waking up every time he moved so I'll probably be sick as a dog today. Anyhoo--this is what he looks like today (again, crappy cell phone picture):

I can't even stand looking at it without my stomach turning. Something I need to get over since it has to be cleaned and kept medicated all day long. Ugh...

Anyway, that's our sad tale. In addition to visiting the Aerospace Museum at Hill AFB today, we will definately be taking a nap. Sorry, Daddy.