Why our trip to the ER was Fun

You know when your Hubby starts wrestling with the kids and chasing them all around the room and you start to realize that things are getting too wild?  You know what I'm talking about.  You stand with your arms crossed, smiling fondly, but suddenly you step in and say, "Okay, I think things are getting a little too crazy around here.  I'm afraid someone will get hurt.  Who wants to read a book?"

I'm sure we've all been there.  The problem with me is that Hubby is gone a lot so I'm often the one doing the wrestling.  This means that there is no one to monitor from afar and realize that the blanket-throwing chasing game might be dangerous, especially if encouraged and initiated by Mom.  So that's what happened the other night.  We were laughing and having so much fun and I was honestly even patting myself on the back for having enough energy to be wrestling with the kids at 6:00 at night and then, "BAM!"  Little Buddy lunged for me and missed my leg and smacked his right into the corner of one of our table.  The next twenty minutes can only be described as pure chaos.

I picked him up immediately.  He was wailing at the top of his lungs, Munchkin Girl was demanding that he stop crying so we could keep playing and I was giving every effort to keep it together and not scream at them.  Blood gushed from Little Buddy's head.  I knew immediately that he needed to go to the ER.  I called and they said it was a several hour wait.


I have to admit that I briefly considered not taking him.  Boys like cool scars right?  Hubby took one look at this pic and told me I had to take him.  It was almost bed time and I was home alone with the kids and I just flat out didn't want to make a trip to the ER.  This is a kid that can't even sit still for an hour during church, let alone for several hours in the ER.  It's also his bedtime and to say that he does poorly with lack of sleep is a severe understatement.  He usually makes me pay if I delay his bedtime by even an hour.   Visions of him running rampant and/or crying hysterically in a crowded, germ-filled ER filled my brain.  Now at this point, I admit that I broke down a bit.   Suddenly I found myself wishing I wasn't the responsible adult.  I sort of wished I was babysitting and I could call the parents and explain what happened and high-tail it out of there.  Here is what happened over the course of the next 7 hours:

6:00 p.m
I turned on Micky Mouse while attempting to stop the bleeding and not gag
6:15 p.m
I paged Hubby, who was in the Operating Room and so a nurse had to be the one who called back.  I could hear my husband yelling that he wouldn't be home anytime soon.  Once he's scrubbed in, it's a big ordeal to even touch the phone because then he has to get scrubbed again and apparently that takes awhile and is frowned upon.  So, I had to explain the situation to the nurse and then she told my husband.  Picture a game of telephone, but with real phones.  "Um," she said nervously.  "Dr. Mullen, your wife says your son needs to go to the ER and wants to know what she should do." Then the poor nurse had to explain to me that it was a big case and there was no one to relieve him and that he suggested that I take the little guy by myself and he would join me as soon as he could.  Fabulous.
7:00 p.m
My parents picked up Munchkin Girl and I set off for the ER with Little Buddy, hoping that Hubby would be there soon.
8 - 10:30 
Little Buddy and I sat in the ER, waiting for our name to be called and waiting for Daddy to arrive.  During this time, I received several more calls from nurses on behalf of my husband, promising he would be done soon.  This is where the fun comes in.  At first, I was beside myself that I was sitting in the ER alone with my two year old at 9:00 at night.   But my son surprised me.  Instead of shrieking and getting cranky, he was fun.  He blew kisses at the nurses.  He cuddled up next to me and watched Mickey Mouse on my iPad.  He hugged me repeatedly.  I found myself relaxing and even enjoying having my little guy all to myself.  He was usually too busy for me.  And frankly, I tended to be too busy for him too, especially with Munchkin Girl constantly needing to potty, needing something to eat, etc.  I couldn't believe it, but waiting for four hours in the ER ended up being fun.
10:30
Hubby finally arrived, just in time for us to wait in a room instead of in the waiting room
12:00 am 
Little Buddy received two stitches in his forehead
12:30 am 
Little Buddy was still going like a champ at this point.  He was totally thrilled by the entire situation, especially the ability to watch Mickey Mouse for five hours straight.  He was finally patched up and still hadn't slept a bit, yet he insisted on walking out of the ER by himself like he owned the place.  He sported a pink Band-Aid and waved to all the nurses, saying, "See ya.  Thanks.  See ya."  Every single person in the waiting room giggled as my boy strutted through the waiting room at 12:30am, looking ALL boy, despite his pink Band-Aid.  I've never been as proud of him as I was at that moment.
1:30 a.m
We made it home and went to bed
8:00 a.m. 
Little Buddy wakes up happy as a clam, pink Band-Aid still attached.  I will always have the memory of that night, and how I survived even though I was alone, and how my son rose to the challenge.

So that's our story.  When did your kids make their first trip to the ER?



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