Meg fell down the stairs today. I'm not sure what happened. Normally the basement door is closed (usually she's the one who closes it) but this morning Bjorn was in the basement doing laundry and she must have decided to follow him downstairs. I didn't hear anything except the thuds. That's right, thuds PLURAL.
We both rushed to her and she was naturally screaming crying. And bleeding. She'd landed on her face just right and busted her lip. It was heartbreaking to see her so upset and awful to think this could have been prevented.
We attended to her quickly. We assessed that she didn't have a brain injury -- she was responsive, crying and all that. But I did worry a little about stitches inside her mouth. It was early enough on Sunday that we could just make doctor's office walk-in hours. I was glad I did. Dr. Murphy looked in her eyes and ears. He said with a real brain injury, she'd have bleeding inside the ears. That was good to hear. The nurse also taught me a trick to assess pupils -- turn off and on the light quickly and see if they dilate. That's the kind of test I can do.
He looked in her mouth and surprisingly, she wasn't that pissed off about it. There was some blood inside her mouth and all over her teeth, which was icky. He diagnosed her with a busted frendulum, which is that thing connecting the gums to the lip. No stitches necessary, which was good. He said to give her salt drops for her minor nose bleed and not to worry about cleaning her mouth -- the saliva would do that. Good thing, she'd be pissed to have me fishing around in there. I was really glad I took her to the doctor's. I think I would have stressed that she was really hurt and I didn't take her. Plus he swabbed her sore throat for strep. Bonus!
She came home and took a nap while the lovely Jennifer came to take Andy to the Halloween party at the lake. He was a champ while we were at the doctor's so it was nice he could get some special time with "Gemminer" rather than waiting for Meg to wake up. Once she did, we hiked down to the park and met up with a bunch of neighbors.
It was nice seeing friendly faces after a rough morning. Especially nice because as I showed off my girlie with her busted lip, they all expressed sympathy and had a similar story of their own to share. I love other honest parents. This parenting thing is quite an adventure that can get pretty competitive. I love finding other folks who are happy to share a bottle of wine, pat you on the shoulder, laugh and move on.
Desperate for a good night's sleep since 2005.
Showing posts with label injury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label injury. Show all posts
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Oh no, part deux
Sadly, The Goodnight Train suffered an injury to the hands of my two-year-old yesterday. After waking up from his nap, Andy decided to rip the last page out of the book. The page didn't have any words on it and just had the tag from the Fairfax County Library on it so I could see his point that it was boring, but still. Ripping books is bad. Plus, now I have to go to the already standoffish librarians and fess up to our crime. I have a feeling this is the beginning of a long line of incidents where I/we have to confess to breaking or stealing something. Yay. More stuff to look forward to!
On the flip side, Andy was a darling this evening. Well, after his first time out that is. He kept standing on the dining room chair and after I warned him once and he did it again, I calmly picked him up and put him on the stoop of the stairs for his first official time out. I did was my sister suggested, I told him what he did wrong and put the kitchen timer on two minutes. He sat sadly and whimpered a bit toward the end (funny how looong two minutes can be sometimes - it's the same in indoor soccer at the end of a half when you're desperately holding on to a lead). Afterwards, I had him tell me he was sorry for standing on the chair and the rest of the evening, he was a perfect darling. I like to think it was due to our excellent parenting, but I have a feeling that's a little far fetched.
Tomorrow we're off to Annapolis for the baptism of a friend's daughter. I was honored to be named godparent (we had training today, which sounds ridiculous, but was actually kind of nice). Andy is excited to go see more singing. Seriously.
On the flip side, Andy was a darling this evening. Well, after his first time out that is. He kept standing on the dining room chair and after I warned him once and he did it again, I calmly picked him up and put him on the stoop of the stairs for his first official time out. I did was my sister suggested, I told him what he did wrong and put the kitchen timer on two minutes. He sat sadly and whimpered a bit toward the end (funny how looong two minutes can be sometimes - it's the same in indoor soccer at the end of a half when you're desperately holding on to a lead). Afterwards, I had him tell me he was sorry for standing on the chair and the rest of the evening, he was a perfect darling. I like to think it was due to our excellent parenting, but I have a feeling that's a little far fetched.
Tomorrow we're off to Annapolis for the baptism of a friend's daughter. I was honored to be named godparent (we had training today, which sounds ridiculous, but was actually kind of nice). Andy is excited to go see more singing. Seriously.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Child falls down stairs, mother traumatized, kid fine
When Andy was a baby, I heard stories from friends with kids his age about the horrors of their kid falling off the bed. That never happened to us and I always congratulated myself on my obviously brilliant parenting. When I heard those stories, I was was sympathetic, but smug on the inside. Of course that wouldn't happen to us. I'm got this shit down. Yeah, and then today my kid fell down the stairs and I take every single smug thought back.
I had made a playdate for the afternoon with a soccer friend whose son is exactly one year to the day younger than Andy. She was going to bring back some of the baby stuff that Henry didn't need any longer and I was going to send her home with some of the 12- to 24-month clothes that Andy has grown out of. I was in Andy's room happily sorting through the clothes while he played with one of his trucks. We were happily busy - at least I thought - when I heard the tell-tale thud. I was at the top of the stairs in an instant to hear the first sob. Bjorn was downstairs in the basement and came flying up (presuming it was both of us had fallen, actually). It was terrible. Andy was scared and I was horrified. Since I didn't see it, I'm not sure how far down on the stairs he was to know how far he'd fallen or what he hit. There were no obvious red marks or bruises, but Andy was crying and I was close. We checked him out - his eyes were fine showing no sign of concussion (although wet), he was crying (also a good sign that he was mentally okay), he had full command of his arms and legs and a couple of minutes later was angrily pointing at the stairs showing us where he'd fallen. He was back to himself and perky again not 10 minutes later, but I've had a knot in my stomach all day.
The funny thing is that for the past month we've been practicing going down the stairs with him scooting on his butt. Recently he's been insisting on sliding that way rather than holding my hand. I've been preferring it thinking it was safer. In all this time, I don't think he's had a slip that made me worry. Not until today, of course since I wasn't watching. He'd been so good that I'd gotten out of the habit of putting up the gate at the top of the stairs, partly because I didn't think he needed it any longer. I guess I was wrong.
In other less scary news, Andy started calling me "Mommy" today. Up until now, it had been "Mama." I kind of like "Mama" and was thinking I preferred it over "Mommy," but apparently this kid has other ideas. I noticed it this morning and then he stuck with it off and on all day. I can't remember now if he's been calling Bjorn "Dada" or "Daddy" until today, but he definitely was calling him "Daddy" today, too. He's also decided that Bjorn is his favorite and half the day today he called for his father and even named the book "Gumman" (the Swedish book) that he wanted him to read. That was pretty cool.
I had made a playdate for the afternoon with a soccer friend whose son is exactly one year to the day younger than Andy. She was going to bring back some of the baby stuff that Henry didn't need any longer and I was going to send her home with some of the 12- to 24-month clothes that Andy has grown out of. I was in Andy's room happily sorting through the clothes while he played with one of his trucks. We were happily busy - at least I thought - when I heard the tell-tale thud. I was at the top of the stairs in an instant to hear the first sob. Bjorn was downstairs in the basement and came flying up (presuming it was both of us had fallen, actually). It was terrible. Andy was scared and I was horrified. Since I didn't see it, I'm not sure how far down on the stairs he was to know how far he'd fallen or what he hit. There were no obvious red marks or bruises, but Andy was crying and I was close. We checked him out - his eyes were fine showing no sign of concussion (although wet), he was crying (also a good sign that he was mentally okay), he had full command of his arms and legs and a couple of minutes later was angrily pointing at the stairs showing us where he'd fallen. He was back to himself and perky again not 10 minutes later, but I've had a knot in my stomach all day.
The funny thing is that for the past month we've been practicing going down the stairs with him scooting on his butt. Recently he's been insisting on sliding that way rather than holding my hand. I've been preferring it thinking it was safer. In all this time, I don't think he's had a slip that made me worry. Not until today, of course since I wasn't watching. He'd been so good that I'd gotten out of the habit of putting up the gate at the top of the stairs, partly because I didn't think he needed it any longer. I guess I was wrong.
In other less scary news, Andy started calling me "Mommy" today. Up until now, it had been "Mama." I kind of like "Mama" and was thinking I preferred it over "Mommy," but apparently this kid has other ideas. I noticed it this morning and then he stuck with it off and on all day. I can't remember now if he's been calling Bjorn "Dada" or "Daddy" until today, but he definitely was calling him "Daddy" today, too. He's also decided that Bjorn is his favorite and half the day today he called for his father and even named the book "Gumman" (the Swedish book) that he wanted him to read. That was pretty cool.
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