It only took 2 years, 9 months

Alternatively titled: How NOT to spend a Sunday morning

This morning, we were getting ready for the day, trying to determine how best to spend our time. Do we do the responsible thing and go to the grocery store to restock the soon-to-be-bare fridge? Or, do we do the fun thing and go jump the morning away at Kangazoom? We had pretty much settled on splitting up and doing both and we were trying to get everyone dressed and out the door. Owen was playing on our bed, having pretend conversations with various grandparents on an old (so old, it has a cord!) out-of-use phone. Rob and I were both in the nursery with Bennett.

We were discussing something about the baby when I heard a thwack, followed by a loud cry. We went running into the bedroom to find Owen walking toward us, crying, and telling us he bumped his head. Rob picked him up and was cuddling him when I saw blood seeping through his hair. My stomach flipped and I felt sick and panicky. I say this because if you know me well, you know I don't get queasy very easily...this mothering thing changes the game entirely.

After about a minute of crying, he was calm and allowed us to put an ice pack on it. He laid on the couch and asked to watch Curious George (big surprise, right?) and seemed perfectly fine. While we attempted to get a good look at the wound, he chattered on about his fall, telling us how it happened. Apparently, the phone base fell off the bed and the cord got stuck on something. He was trying to pull the phone back up and took a tumble off the bed, hitting the corner of the nightstand.

Within minutes, he had already bounced back and wanted to run and play as usual. We never could get him to let us really see the cut, but the slowly oozing blood was not a great sign (and from what we could see, the gash seemed that it might be fairly deep). We called the doctor, knowing what the instructions would be and packed up to head to the Children's Hospital ER.

We prepared ourselves for a long wait...grabbing lunch before we left and packing up gobs of toys and various distractions. However, once at the hospital, we were triaged and in a treatment room within 10-15 minutes. The doctor came in to see us about 2 minutes after that! At every stop of the way, we were very impressed and very much at ease. Big thumbs up for Children's Healthcare of Atlanta.

Once they cleaned off the blood and pulled aside the matted hair, it was pretty evident that Owen wasn't leaving without some souvenirs. He ended up with 3 staples in his scalp (or 3 "magic strings" if you ask him. The nurse originally thought he'd be getting stitches). Not a single tear was shed the entire time we were there (if you don't count Mommy's tears, that is). Owen was amazing...charming and funny and just very "Owen" throughout the visit.

At one point, when they were scrubbing up his scalp and applying some topical anesthetic, he told the nurse that the medicine was too cold. She said, "Yeah, it's really cold stuff, isn't it?" Owen's reply was, "Yeah, so should you stop, please?"

Later, a male nurse lingered a bit too long in the room with us and was a bit too chatty...apparently intruding on our little family time. Owen politely said, "Could you leave now? You're just a doctor." (We were thankful he didn't realize that the guy was "just a nurse" or that could have sounded even more condescending!)

In addition to the staples (oh sorry, "magic strings") in his head, Owen also scored a stuffed monkey given to him by one of the nurses (he has, of course, named it George) and an orange popsicle. A visit that could have been understandably traumatic was really just fine overall for him. As I write, Owen is napping in his bed and his usual bedtime monkey has been tossed aside (actually, he was banned from the room) to make space for George, his new friend. While mommy is a bit shaken by the whole experience, Owen seems no worse for the wear.

So, it only took us 2 years and 9 months to have our first ER visit with Owen. Magic strings, monkeys and popsicles aside, I STILL say it's not the best way to spend a Sunday morning.