We have a lot of kids. I know it. If you read this blog, you know it. Anyone who sees our van or walks into our front door or watches us shopping with the kids waddling between Scott and I duckling style knows it. There are some days, though, when you really know it.
The blood letting began today at 4:05, which is when Tucker and the twins were having an all out wrestle-fest and Tucker's knee collided with Aidan's face. Swollen knee, bloody lip, normal boys.
Moments later, I turned around to watch sweet Jane lose her footing on the stairs and tumble feet over head backwards, bouncing all the way to the bottom. She sat up completely stunned and then burst into tears. Tucker beat me to her and tried to comfort her, but in the end she wanted someone tall. As I was snuggling Jane, Keats asked when Jane had eaten ketchup since it was all over her fingers and chin. Uh . . . not ketchup buddy. Blood.
Jane and I sashayed into the dining room where I was originally folding clothes with Isabelle before the knee/face incident. Jane climbed down from my arms and up onto a bench, where she loves to jabber about who wears which clothes we are folding. In between an exuberant "Keats!" and a swoosh was Jane slipping, sending the bench backwards and resulting in her chin colliding with the table before she landed solidly on her rump. Ouch. No tears this time, just a "Hold me, peas!"
Snuggling Jane again I heard a "Yow!" coming from the kitchen. I turned around in time to see Tucker sheepishly throwing the dishrag down before trying to hide his hand and wincing at the same time. Apparently you can never give the reminder too many times to: 1 - not throw sharp knives into the dishwater AND 2 - never plunge your hand recklessly into the dishwater in case someone forgot rule number one. Tucker, who had forgotten both rules, needed a bandage to convince him his finger would not actually fall off from the paper-cut size injury.
Just as I put the last of the bandage wrappings in the garbage, I heard a thump and then blood-curdling shrieks. Elyas had managed to slip off the stairs and catch his fall with his face. Dawson already had Elyas in his arms, but what was freaking everyone out was the literal stream of blood issuing from his mouth, running down his chin, and soaking into his favorite football shirt. I scooped him up and gathered enough details to be concerned he might have done further damage to his front teeth (see previous post.) As I'm standing in the kitchen trying to mop up the gusher while simultaneously sneaking peeks inside his mouth as it's open for screaming, I keep hearing a strange clacking sound. Sure enough, one finger sweep later brought out a very precious baby tooth, root and all.
We threw the tooth in milk and I called the dentist, who asked a few questions, laughed, and then let us know we would be able to enjoy a very charming, holey grin for quite some time. It took a few minutes, but we finally got the bleeding to stop and Elyas was down and running around again. Dawson and the twins immediately got a new jar out to place Elyas's tooth in for safe keeping on the specimen shelf. Weirdos.
I was about to wash the blood off my hands when there was another crash followed by more weeping. This time, however, when Elyas fell he landed on his forehead, resulting in an enormous goose egg. I again snuggled and comforted while Elyas wept into my neck.
A glance at the clock showed it was 4:23. A total of 18 minutes had gone by.
Later, while I was sitting with Tucker going over his reading I happened to glance down at my shirt. Blood everywhere. When washing up, I realized there was still blood on my face. Totally disgusting, yet completely explainable.
Of course it is. It has to be. Otherwise, our life is just really impossible to explain.
The blood letting began today at 4:05, which is when Tucker and the twins were having an all out wrestle-fest and Tucker's knee collided with Aidan's face. Swollen knee, bloody lip, normal boys.
Moments later, I turned around to watch sweet Jane lose her footing on the stairs and tumble feet over head backwards, bouncing all the way to the bottom. She sat up completely stunned and then burst into tears. Tucker beat me to her and tried to comfort her, but in the end she wanted someone tall. As I was snuggling Jane, Keats asked when Jane had eaten ketchup since it was all over her fingers and chin. Uh . . . not ketchup buddy. Blood.
Jane and I sashayed into the dining room where I was originally folding clothes with Isabelle before the knee/face incident. Jane climbed down from my arms and up onto a bench, where she loves to jabber about who wears which clothes we are folding. In between an exuberant "Keats!" and a swoosh was Jane slipping, sending the bench backwards and resulting in her chin colliding with the table before she landed solidly on her rump. Ouch. No tears this time, just a "Hold me, peas!"
Snuggling Jane again I heard a "Yow!" coming from the kitchen. I turned around in time to see Tucker sheepishly throwing the dishrag down before trying to hide his hand and wincing at the same time. Apparently you can never give the reminder too many times to: 1 - not throw sharp knives into the dishwater AND 2 - never plunge your hand recklessly into the dishwater in case someone forgot rule number one. Tucker, who had forgotten both rules, needed a bandage to convince him his finger would not actually fall off from the paper-cut size injury.
Just as I put the last of the bandage wrappings in the garbage, I heard a thump and then blood-curdling shrieks. Elyas had managed to slip off the stairs and catch his fall with his face. Dawson already had Elyas in his arms, but what was freaking everyone out was the literal stream of blood issuing from his mouth, running down his chin, and soaking into his favorite football shirt. I scooped him up and gathered enough details to be concerned he might have done further damage to his front teeth (see previous post.) As I'm standing in the kitchen trying to mop up the gusher while simultaneously sneaking peeks inside his mouth as it's open for screaming, I keep hearing a strange clacking sound. Sure enough, one finger sweep later brought out a very precious baby tooth, root and all.
We threw the tooth in milk and I called the dentist, who asked a few questions, laughed, and then let us know we would be able to enjoy a very charming, holey grin for quite some time. It took a few minutes, but we finally got the bleeding to stop and Elyas was down and running around again. Dawson and the twins immediately got a new jar out to place Elyas's tooth in for safe keeping on the specimen shelf. Weirdos.
I was about to wash the blood off my hands when there was another crash followed by more weeping. This time, however, when Elyas fell he landed on his forehead, resulting in an enormous goose egg. I again snuggled and comforted while Elyas wept into my neck.
A glance at the clock showed it was 4:23. A total of 18 minutes had gone by.
Later, while I was sitting with Tucker going over his reading I happened to glance down at my shirt. Blood everywhere. When washing up, I realized there was still blood on my face. Totally disgusting, yet completely explainable.
Of course it is. It has to be. Otherwise, our life is just really impossible to explain.
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