I don’t ever want to see that much of my baby girl’s blood ever again.
This week has been a really busy one for us. Last Monday was my daughter’s 8th birthday. Sunday we threw her a swim party at her swim school to celebrate so last weekend was mostly prep. We had a fabulous time and enjoyed seeing all of our friends. Monday my best friend and I took her to see Night at the Museum 2 (fabulous, a must-see) and browsed in a used bookstore next door for a bit. I picked up a pristine copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard for 6 bucks and a first edition American printing of The Simarillion for Val (9 bucks) as a belated birthday gift.
The rest of the week was a blurr of swim classes, ballet classes, more swim classes and rehearsal for her recital. This recital marked the end of her fourth year as a ballerina and I am very proud.
I am also proud of her for her courage.
Earlier today, after lunch, I sat down to work at bit at the computer. My daughter asked if she could paint in the back bedroom – we have a 6 foot by 3 foot desk back there with an easel – and I helped her open one of the packages of new canvas she had gotten for her birthday. Her painting by herself on occasion in the other room is routine here so I thought nothing of it. I usually get up and check on her, tell her I love her, see how she is doing and help her open the acrylics if she needs it. She sometimes kicks me out with a “Mom don’t peek!” and I laugh and oblige. Today we didn’t get that far.
I open up a word document and begin to type when I hear this odd-in-a-bad-way sounding, “MOM! I CUT MYSELF!!!” I’m running as her voice wavers on the last word and don’t stop till I have her still gushing thumb in my grip. There was blood everywhere…
She is fine. I’m just now letting myself feel it. Thank God and Goddess I don’t panic. I was methodical, clear-headed, loving, and silently freaking out. She was cleaning the old, dried paint out of her palette and picked up an X-Acto knife that had been left out from modeling. She is normally very good about cleaning her palette afterwards, but I think we had to leave and it got overlooked last time, so she was having issues getting the dried paint out. She knows not to use knives. She didn’t think. I am thankful it wasn’t worse but it was bad enough. I got her to laugh once when I told her that daddy’s notebook, that had been under her palette, now both covered in red, was definitely going to have to be for a vampire novel now. :/ Val called Logan, Logan raced home. A deep slice down the outside edge of her thumb, a good quarter of an inch wide, and we are in the car and out to the local Quick Care. No stitches but we found out sterile super glue comes in purple and I need a drink.
We hit the pharmacy on the way home to pick up her antibiotics; for infection and because she has a cold on top of it all poor baby. We get home in time to breathe for about 10 minutes then I start prepping her for tonight. Head full of hair putty and bobbie pins for the perfect bun, my daughter looks way beyond her years and I miss her already. She was stunning though and I am so very proud of her. The recital was fabulous, she was perfect, and she is sleeping like a log now after another dose of medicine and a well deserved ice cream stop on the way home. Her flowers from the recital are silently blooming for her in the living room and I am here, slightly shaky, wanting to scoop her up and just hold her.
This is not the first time she has gotten hurt and I am sure that it won’t be the last but I definitely don’t ever want to see that much of my baby girl’s blood ever again.