We Almost Made It.Posted: January 25, 2009
So I was a single dad this weekend.
Renee took off for Florida for some R&R with her family (all of whom are down there).
Erin had a doctor’s appointment Friday morning in Hartford. So, we took two cars up, and Renee headed for the airport after the appointment while I headed back home with the kids.
After dropping them at daycare and getting a few hours in at the office, I officially started solo duty at about 3:30 Friday afternoon. Renee was coming home at 5 p.m. Sunday afternoon.
Surely we could go 49.5 hours without incident, right?
Wrong. (Although, for the record, we did go 44.5 hours!)
Despite some early morning wake-ups (4 a.m. Saturday and 4:30 a.m. Sunday) thanks to Erin, the weekend was pretty good. We ordered pizza, went to the doughnut shop, made a run to Toys R Us. It was all good.
And Sunday was shaping up to be a great day. Erin fell asleep eating lunch, so getting her down for nap was a piece of cake. Then, after we finished lunch, I told Aidan he had five minutes before we were going up to read stories before his nap.
And then it happened.
For whatever reason, at one point, he took off on a lap through our lower level. While he was on the hardwood portion, I heard a thump.
“You Ok, buddy?”
“Yes…..,” he trailed off, quivering.
Then I saw the blood. As much as he was trying to be strong, he finally realized how badly it hurt.
And, depsite the pain it was causing him, there was barely any bleeding. There didn’t need to be, the poor kid had a gaping hole on his chin.
There was no doubt in my mind we were headed for stitches.
Now, the dilemma. Ok, can’t wake up Erin.
No problem. Call sister-in-law Sue who is 15 minutes away. She was here in less than that time.
Hmmm. Check clock. Renee not on plane yet. Call her? Text her? Nope. Not going to subject her to a three hour flight full of questions and potential panic. It can wait until she’s back.
So, he’s not wanting to go to the hospital. Very apprehensive….but, I get him moving and away we go. I tell him what I think will happen. He’s nervous.
But, as soon as we got there, he was a trooper. Did everything asked of him by the docs and nurses and he spoke clearly throughout our time there.
The numbed his chin with a cream, so that was good, no shots.
Then the work started. The guy was very good. He was a physician’s assistant. Great bedside disposition and that helped keep Aidan comfortable — especially since the guy turned his position at the table so Aidan could still watch TV while thsi was going on.
Now it was warm and I still had my winter coat on. Then I felt it.
“Um, Aidan, you’re doing great. I’m so proud of you. I’m just going to be sitting down right here. Nothing to worry about.”
The PA looks at me and tells me to sit on the floor if I think I’m going to drop. Nice! Once I took my coat off I was (mostly) fine.
Of course the glass of water and ice pack they got for me might have helped a bit, too. Might have. I’m just sayin’.
So he wraps up the work, I feel my legs back under me and Aidan is ready to go — happy to know he’s leaving with a green lollipop (his favorite color) and two stickers.
He’s not, however, happy about the band-aid he’s got to wear over the stitches. He’s self conscious about stuff like this, and I know he’s already wondering what the kids at school are going to think (because he’s got them in for almost a week).
After leaving the hospital, we come home and everything has gone well with Erin upon waking up and not finding mom or dad here. Everything went well with Aunt Sue.
We then took an impromptu trip to Toys R Us to get the very brave and well-behaved patient something for his Thomas collection.
Just as we’re getting out of the car, the text comes in from Renee. She’s landed.
I respond, “Out. Will call you in 15 minutes when back in the car.”
She was glad to know Aidan did so well at the hospital and glad, too, that I hadn’t told her before she got on the plane.
The rest of the night found him in good spirits and well-behaved — just incredibly tired.
Sort of how I am right now. Tired.
And very proud of a strong 4 1/2 year old boy with his first set of stitches. The first, I’m sure, of more.