Yesterday stunk. No way of getting around that.
I'm just going to sum it up quickly, for memories sake (like to tell Stella in the future, or something):
Me: "Guys, snack time! Want pretzels?"
-I go into the kitchen, open the cupboard, grab the pretzels, turn my back for two seconds (without shutting or latching the cabinet door). As I'm pouring the first cup of pretzel sticks, I hear shattering.
Stella had climbed up a shelf, grabbed a jar of spaghetti sauce and it had dropped. She was standing in a mix of sauce and blood. And yes, she was screaming. It was quite a shock to the system at first; there was SO MUCH RED. I couldn't tell what was blood and what was sauce.
I scooped her up and stuck her in the bathroom sink, washing off sauce, assessing her feet. Both feet were cut up. Her right foot had a few nicks that were indeed, pretty deep. But they were more like poke holes- not cuts or gashes. Her left foot however was bad. She had about a one inch deep and wide gash on the sole of her foot and it was bleeding bad. This all happened quickly, but somewhere I realized "Holy crap- there's glass and spaghetti sauce all over the kitchen and I've got two other kids that are roaming around."
I corralled Maeve and Henry into the girls' room. And flat out told them, "If you come out here, you'll step on glass and have to go to the hospital for some bad shots. So stay here." They stayed. ;)
Her cut was one of those in between cuts. Does it need stitching or not?? It was wasn't blatantly obvious, like when I sliced off my thumb, and it was dangling from the bone... I mean, that was a really easy decision to make: Yes, Ashley. You need stitches.
I was holding a screaming Stella, putting pressure on her foot with a towel, while trying to get hold of Ryan, my mom and dad for about 15 minutes. FINALLY my mother answered. I was definitely sweating at this point. Thankfully she was in town, and was able to make it over to our place in about 10 minutes.
Mom definitely came to the rescue; she cleaned up the sauce and glass, allowing Henry and Maeve out of bedroom purgatory. She helped me look at Stella's boo boo. We both agreed to try butterflying it before stitches. She ran to publix, grabbed butterfly bandaids and some tape.
We got it wrapped up, the bleeding slowed, Stella calmed down. PHEW!
I spent the day holding her because every time she'd try and walk it would pop open and bleed all over again. To say the least it was a long, long, long day. BUT, we survived.
And I have to say, not sure what the magic was, (either resting off the foot or the lavender?) it looks SO MUCH BETTER today. I'm going to say it was the lavender oil. :)
Today, (Friday) I'm feeling... pregnant. Ha. Basically just huge, and tired... When we got up this morning I told the kids this was going to be a movie day. They started out excited about it. It's quickly gone down hill.
We've been watching movies ALL. DAY. LONG. We've had snacks, and lunch. We've colored and played ponies. I've heard an insane amount of whining and I've threatened time outs about 400 times. Basically I am being a bum mom. I do feel guilty about it. There's no way around it. At the same time, I have the sense of mind to realize I am 8 months pregnant, and one day in the house, in their PJs is not going to hurt anyone. I think we've grown so used to being on the go all the time; its either the beach or the pool, splash park, or playgrounds, trips to Jacksonville, etc. every single day. It's good to stay inside, be lazy for a day or two, right??
And now I'll shut this post down with a deep thought;
Every night there's a period of time where Henry and Stella are in bed, and Maeve is up (she's the oldest, she stays up the latest- 8:30 usually). When the littles are in bed, she kind of transforms into this different kid. She becomes older, wiser... looks so much bigger. She asked me last night if her friends in ballet were going to laugh at her because of the spacer in her mouth. (you can barely see it- only when she opens wide or smiles big. And then it just looks like braces or something). Tears hit my eyes instantly.
"What? Why would you think that?"
"Because my friends don't have a sliver ring and I dooooo." She wasn't upset, just purely inquiring.
"Hey bugs, do you know you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen? You are. And you're the smartest too. And you have the best heart. Nobody will laugh at you, and if they do, they're silly."
She accepted the answer and hopped off to go watch baseball with Ryan.
And of course I started thinking.
We are our kids confidence. It begins and ends with us, as parents. I tell my kids I love them, compliment them on good manners, clap my hands and say "You are SO smart!' when they do something new... but however often I feel like I'm praising them, it can never be enough. You can never, ever, over- praise your child.
The world is mean. I feel like every "You are beautiful" and "You are such a good girl." are like layers of protection I'm putting on them.
Looking at myself, I know I can say more, do more., to show my kids they are my world. Henry may not be the best soccer player, but by gosh, he needs to KNOW, he is the smartest, bestest little guy I have ever met. And Maeve might be a little self conscious with her teeth, but she needs to have absolutely no doubt that she is the most beautiful thing her dadda and I have ever seen. That when she was born, I hadn't ever felt searing love like that.
I'm going to work on this; actively thinking of what they need to hear, when they need to hear it.
Does any of that make sense? I am going off of very little sleep... ;)
I hope it does.
Anyways, that is all. :)