Boxing Day (And Our Little Boxer)

Christmas was awesome in every way. I'll put together something soon about everything we learned about Christmas with a toddler, but it was Boxing Day that taught us the most this holiday season. W has been obsessed with playing "chase," a simple game that involves being chased around the house. It often starts with him coming up to any available adult and saying, "I better run...." And then he takes off.

This was, of course, his game of choice when we were at Matt's parents over the weekend. It was around 5:00 or so on Boxing Day when he ran from his cousin and fell, hitting the wooden stair between the kitchen and living room, and splitting open his eye.

It was bad. There was a ton of blood. I've never been a fan of blood and wounds give me the heebie-jeebies, so I always wondered how I would react when it was go-time. And now I know: I completely took control of the situation and focused on calming down W, barking out orders, and tried to make good, quick decisions. I'm usually good in crisis situations, but like everyone says, there is a gear that moms are able to put themselves in and I found it.

We ultimately had to head out so the little guy could get stitches. It all happened rather quickly. I think back and it was all a blur, except the blood that just kept coming and coming. Ugh. But I know that I had a moment when I turned away from him to grab a towel and had a tiny moment when I could have freaked, but I took a deep breath, looked back at him, and never gave in.

Sometimes being a parent is hard. Co-parenting can be really hard. Two people having to compromise, know what the other needs, step in, step out, bite their tongue, decide what is best for a child... It's all hard and (like most honest new parents will admit) Matt and I have had some really rough bumps as we learn how to best work together as parents. And on Sunday we seemed to figure it out.

When William was getting his stitches, I had to lay on the bed and hold down his arms, Matt had to hold his head in place. And we had to keep him perfectly still. Never before have the two of us worked so well together than we did in those ten minutes. From the second William hurt himself, we both instinctively fell into the perfect roles to compliment each other. I grabbed William and tried to calm him down and get his bleeding under control. Matt stood by, got me a towel when I asked, got his dad when I needed him, and was swiftly out the door to pull up and warm the car with his id, insurance card, and money in hand before we even accepted we'd go to the hospital. He knew I had the current situation under control and he was preparing for the next steps.

Five stitches later we were alright, but nothing hurts a parent's heart more than seeing their little one in pain. It's bound to happen to all of us. And, all in all, I'm feeling pretty good about how we handled it this time around.

Special thanks to Aunt Kate for soothing the little guy, Uncle Dan for getting the ice, Papa Don for flipping into Dr. Hanneman mode so quickly, Nana Linda for riding to the hospital with us, and to that special person who cleaned up all the blood. (Somehow it was magically gone when we got back.) And to W's Hanneman family who cheered when we got back from the hospital and let him know how cherished he is by everyone.