What. A. Day.

Last night around 5:00 Reed came over to me and was trying to tell me something...then he threw up all over the couch. I picked him up and carried him in the kitchen, where he threw up all over me. At 3:00 AM JR came in our room to tell us he had just thrown up. (Twice.) As of this morning I didn't have anymore pukers, but let's just say I'd changed Kyle's diaper 4 times before he'd been up for an hour. I didn't even know 'green foam' was possible down there. About 11:00 JR started to feel better, and decided he needed to take the couch cushions off and use it as a trampoline. After threatening him with getting dressed and taking him immediately to school, the couch cushions were back on, but the babies now thought trampoline-couch was the neatest thing they'd ever seen...so of course they had to partake. The words, "sit down, quit jumping, you're going to hurt yourself" had just come out of my mouth as I watched Reed do a front flip and land head/face first into a box of Thomas the Train accessories. (I believe it was the roof and handle of the Coal Loader Playset that did the most damage.) I grabbed him up so fast he hadn't started to bleed yet, and thought we had gotten away with just some bad scrapes. I'm not so good at looking at injuries, so I just held him close to me...until I started to feel the blood on my cheek. I called our pediatrician, but they were booked and told me to go to the ER. I took off running down our street hoping one of the 4 doctors was home. I knew Pediatrician across the street was at work since I had just called her office, Hand Surgeon and OBGYN's house looked as if nobody was home, so I took off for Anesthesiologist house. All the while Reed was screaming at the top of lungs. (Did I mention JR, Kyle, and Hunter had all wandered (barefoot) into the middle of the street since I left the door wide open as I ran out it?) Anesthesiologist's wife, Radiologist, told me to take him to the hospital ER and not the clinic ER in case they needed to do a CT scan. I also left JR at their house, but took Kyle with me since I didn't want them having to change green foam diapers. I felt terrible strapping Reed in his car seat since he still hadn't stoped crying, and gave serious thought to pulling a Britney and driving with him in my lap so I could continue to hold him.
Jason was absurdly calm when I called him, so my next call was to the person I knew would have the exact reaction I was looking for: my mom. I can always count on my mom for just the right amount of dramatics, poor "whoever is hurt", and of course my favorite, poor Jan.
With Jason still calm as could be, and knowing he thinks I tend to overreact, I sent him a picture of the situation as we sat in the ER. Reed was lying on my chest as Kyle sat on my knee and we were both petting his back. (The picture is just too sad to post.) By the time we got to a room, Reed was feeling better, and Kyle tried to make him laugh by playing "Night!Night!" on the bed.


Which seemed to do the trick, because in no time at all they were trying to destroy the room and playing chase up and down the hall. Praise the Lord he's fine, and no stitches. I don't even want to think of what he could have done to himself.

So here are some pictures from the hospital. His face looks bad, but at least he's smiling.






As for the person in this house who's even more dramatic than me, he spent the rest of the day shielding his eyes and crying, "I can't even look at him! I can't even look at him!"