First of all: the last week did not work out very well creativity-wise. I had thought that with the boys being back at school, I could start doing my stuff again. Not really. The house screamed, “Tidy me!!” in a very loud voice, and being me, I cannot sit at my computer and write while someone is screaming. So I started clearing away the Christmas mess (not speaking of the Christmas tree itself), the toys that had accumulated in the living room, the washing that had piled up in the washing basket… that sort of stuff. At the beginning of the week I still thought that if I worked really hard I could squeeze in some creativity days – but at point I just decided to let go and work my way through the house with a relaxed mind instead.
So now I am finally surfacing again.
What also happened last week (and here I am arriving at my point at last) is that our older one has had his first stitches. We got a call from school that he had slipped in classroom (due to some wetness on the floor and probably a decent amount of silly behaviour) and hit the corner of a table with his chin. Ouch. When I arrived he was sitting there with a big plaster on his chin and a very pale face. I took a look, and although the blood was not streaming out any more, to me it seemed to be a bit more than his usual scratches. So off we went to the doctor, who first thought it could be glued together (yes! I thought, no needles, we got lucky), but after a closer look decided it was too deep. In the end it needed four stitches. My brave boy carried himself very manly, not flinching at the needle from the anaesthetic, not flinching at the stitches themselves. I could see he was concentrating.
When we got out I fed him some sugary candy and praised him a lot. The rest of the day he was quiet, but ok, only complaining a little that chewing hurt (luckily we had soup for dinner). He needed some extra cuddling and talking time when going to bed though. We talked about the stitches his dad had when he was a boy (being hit by a croquet mallet on the forehead once!). I told him the stitches would come out after a week (he was satisfied with that).
Since then we have applied various plasters to prevent chafing. He is all up and bouncy again and the stitches will go out tomorrow.
Two things are still on my mind tough.
One: I am surprised how calm we both stayed, my boy and me. I would have thought at least one of us would be freaking out. Granted, according to the teacher he was quite shocked at first, but he handled the whole stitching up part really well. I am very proud. As for myself I felt quite calm during the whole thing, very sure that everything would go well. Although one has to say that his teacher got the really hard part – administering first aid, mopping up the blood (“5 tissues, mum!” he told me later, quite impressed).
Two: It is funny how everyone reacts. When hearing of the stitches almost everyone says: “Oh, he is a man! It will look interesting on him.” Isn’t that funny? Even more so that I think along the same lines. I mean, chances are that there will be a small scar remaining, but it will be under his chin, which is not your most visible part of the face anyway… and yes, he is a boy. Boys are allowed to have a (small?) scar and are still considered cute. I mean, is good that it is that way, but what if he was a girl? Would they then say, “Oh, what a shame, she was so pretty before” or what? What kind of crazy difference does gender make here? But as I said, I am guilty too… I would probably worry more if he was a girl… feeling ashamed at myself.
Above all, I am really relieved he did not knock out any teeth or hit is head or something like that. Considering the cirucmstances, he was lucky, and I am grateful for that. Accidents like this show us how vulnerable we are all, especially our children. But I choose not to worry more about them now, because it would not help anway. I just hope their luck (or their guardian angel) stays with us.