*WHAM*. The boot then bounces back up and open. I bring my hand up to my nose as I back away from the car, a bit shocked; I can now feel my hand filling with blood.
The weather has taken a turn for the better, with a freak October heat wave that has had everyone out in flip flops again. Saturday morning was baking hot and gorgeous, but we didn't have an outing because I was tied up having to collect my unsold items from the sale at the school. A few too many unsold items for my liking, but that's the way it goes. As the kids were all sleeping for their lunch naps, my husband and I were deciding what to do - we couldn't let this last chance hot sunny weekend go to waste, it was like a little extra gift of summer before the cold wet drudgery season began. "Where can we go?" husband asks. "I don't know! Look up on the computer, see if there are any kids events or anything going on..." I say. "Look where? You should know where to go, you are the one that takes the kids places!" "I don't know...I take them to the animal shelter and wherever...let's find something else." He rummages on the computer for a while and returns with a suggestion. "You'll just say no anyway, you never want to do what I suggest...." he says, grouchily. Now, of course, I feel like no matter what, I have to say yes to whatever his suggestion is just so I don't feel like a jerk. (This is a charming glimpse of the inner workings of how 5 years of marriage decision-making is achieved). He suggests going to Paxton Pits or the country park, just down the road a few miles, to have a forest walk. Actually this is not a bad idea, and I agree, thankful that I didn't have to agree to something like going to the landfill site or taking the toddlers fly fishing.
Then I had a flash of a really good idea. "OH, I have a really good idea!" I say to my husband. The now-smug-feeling me suggests going to the miniature railway at Audley End. It is about an hours drive away, and would be a load more effort, but with such nice weather the day deserved it, really. The boys have been once before, and loved it - what little boy doesn't love to ride a mini railway through the forest, and then have a picnic after jumping on a giant bouncy giraffe? We would have to get ready quick though - with the more grand outing planned we had to make sandwiches and trimmings for a picnic supper, make sure the nappy bag was really well stocked, get the buggy in the car, wake the kids up and feed the baby early so we could get going in time, get cooler bags from the garage - I even packed for the kids their camping chairs - we were set for a really awesome afternoon out. Rush rush rush to get ready. The car was loaded up, and I gave a great big haul on the boot hatch, as one does, to shut it all in.
That's when the fateful *WHAM* happened.
Holding my nose, not quite sure what exactly has happened, I come into the house still in a bit of a shocked state. "Injured! Injury....injury....! Come please!!!!" I yell upstairs as I gingerly make my way to the front hall bathroom, dreading what I will find in the mirror. Both the impact and the downward force of the boot onto my face had sort of smashed down a flap of tissue spanning across the bridge of my nose, right between the eyes. I also wondered if I had broken my nose...but I would have to wait a little while to see if everything puffed black and blue to find that out. I grabbed a wad of paper towel and held it with some pressure to hold the flap into place, and catch the blood. At that point also I couldn't help but start crying like a bit of a sissy, it was really starting to hurt! Then I hear "Mummy...mummy....I've done a pooooooooooooo!" the familiar call of my oldest son; he needs his bum wiped. 'Where is my husband??' I am thinking...I go upstairs, and the poor child sees me all teary and bloody, with a big wad of bloody paper on my face. I can see his eyes start welling up, and he looks really sad, and sort of worried. "Mummy, what happened? Are you alright?" "Yes! [overly smiley] mummy's fine! I just had a little accident! Mummy is just bleeding a little bit - don't worry, daddy will fix it." Mummy, really, was not fine.
He then tells me he would like a new shirt, as this one was 'really wet'. Oh no, I think. I sink a little bit - that means he has weed on the bed in his sleep, all the bed things will need changing. One handed, (the other holding my bloody face together) I manage to wipe his bum, and struggly-wiggle his wet shirt off of him. I go to investigate his bed, still crying, bloody and holding my face on...my husband is now with me and we strip his sodden sheets off. My husband has some things ready to fix up my face. Luckily in our household, when these types of things happen, we have all the equipment and expertise handy as my husband is a surgeon. Unluckily, it seems these types of things happen quite often. I guess I married the right guy then, considering my proneness to personal injury.
I get laid down right there on the stripped bed, weepy me, husband tending, and an audience of one three year old. I keep saying to my husband "Hurry...hurry...I need to feed the baby. I need to get the baby up." but still feeling very eerie and teary. I for some reason felt like I had to get all this fixed and get going. I for some reason felt like, 'Dammit! We're going to be late! How annoying!' In retrospect, how ridiculous of me! I do cling to my routine with the kids though, apparently 'til the death....
And what a sweetie my little boy is, while he is watching me get 'fixed'. "It's alright mummy, you'll be okay...", and as my husband is applying the skin glue and the steri-strips "That's it, almost done now mummy, you're doing really well!", and as the last bandage is going on "Last one now mummy, that's ok now, all done." I realize he is repeating all the things we have said to him when he has been injured or needed tending to. It really did make me feel better though...there is something about lying there knowing you are injured but not knowing quite how badly, but in pain and bleeding, and someone else doing something to you but you don't really know what is going on - it made me feel really teary, and I had a bit of a panicky feeling. My little boy, who is so little, saying all those reassuring things - how cute, how sweet, how... mature. He really helped.
Patched up, I wake the baby (Late!Arrrgh!) and sit to feed him. Looking around I see bloody paper towels, a groggy grouchy woken-up middle son, a still weepy-worried oldest son, and a great big pile of wet sheets for washing. I feel a bit weary and sheepish. I look at my husband.
"Can we just go to the country park now instead?" *wimper*
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