Scarface

I was all set to write about last week (first day at a drop-in preschool, fever and illness - a good story), when we were suddenly thrown into a new experience last night.

It all started as I was getting ready to go sing at church. Sam was running around, buck nekkid of course, when I turned just in time to see his bus come out from under him and he landed - smack! - face-down on the floor. I did what I usually do; I waited to see if he would cry before I rushed in. Suddenly he did cry, and it was a different cry altogether. I ran and picked him up, and blood...everywhere. I couldn't tell at first where it came from, if he'd lost a tooth, or bitten his tongue, then I saw the big hole in his lip. We rushed to Children's Hospital where, long story short, it took 5 people and a kiddie dose of valium to keep him even moderately still, and even then he still screamed his head off while the patient doctor wiated for the right moment to put in 3 stitches. They wrapped him burrito style in a sheet, Mark was laying next to him and holding him, two nurses were at his head, and I and another nurse had his legs. I thought I was handling it pretty well, but about half-way through I let go of him for a break, and realized that my arms and jaw were shaking uncontrollably. Where's the valium for MOM, huh?

Almost immediately afterward, he sat up and asked for water, and proceeded to chug two apple juices and chow down on a package of teddy grahams, smiling and chatting with us all the while. I still needed to sit down.

So, that's visit #3 to Children's Hospital in about a year. I think perhaps we should buy stock.