All was calm in the house. The kids were watching television, and I was trying to do some writing when I heard a yelp, a cry of distress, and then a “Mommmmmmaaaaaa!”
I jumped up and ran out of the office to see my son running toward me with blood gushing out of his nose. Before he reached me, he held his hand to his nose to check and see if it was still bleeding and then flapped his hands in horror when he saw blood. Of course, this sent blood flying all over the downstairs carpet.
After I got over the “Oh my gosh! Is my son okay?” stage (he was fine!), here is what went through my head …
During the incident:
How do I stop a bloody nose? Tilt head back or head forward? How do I not know this? I should! I’m a mom!
I need to Google this!
Why won’t my son stop flapping his hands and spraying blood all over the bathroom?
This bathroom looks like a crime scene!
What? He got this from headbutting his sister in the back? Seriously! Why?
Oh, he was pretending to be dinosaur. Of course. Can’t he just calmly watch TV, though!?
After the incident:
My whole downstairs looks like a crime scene!
How do you get blood out of carpet? I need to Google this! It is ridiculous that I have to Google everything!
Oh … I’m supposed to get it out immediately. Quick! Where’s a rag? Do we still have any carpet cleaner?
Why doesn’t the spray bottle of Resolve ever actually spray correctly? I’ll just unscrew the cap and splash it around the room. Shoot! There goes half of the bottle on that one tiny spot!
Thank goodness the majority of blood spots are on the playroom carpet. It’s always covered in toys anyway. No one will notice if these spots turn to stains.
Yes, my husband was right. We should definitely wait a little longer to purchase a new sofa … I was getting a bit ahead of myself. When will the kids stop ruining our things?
This is NOT how I wanted to spend my time this afternoon!
After over-Resolving the carpet, I prepared to tackle the bathroom. I sighed when I noticed there were no longer drips of blood everywhere in the bathroom but long smears instead. It appeared as if someone had tried to “clean up.”
I peeked out into the family room where I had settled the kids to watch a movie once my son had calmed down; all negative thoughts immediately ceased. My son was curled up in the corner holding a tissue to his nose while my daughter sat next to him patting his arm.
She had brought out the box of tissues and the bathroom trashcan and placed them near her brother. When I entered the room, she glanced up, “Mom, don’t worry. He’s okay. I took care of him, and I cleaned the bathroom, too!”
My dear daughter. The girl who tested my limits this week by sitting in more time outs than I can count, disagreeing with just about everything I said, whining about every chore asked of her, and continuing to resort to pushing and shoving her brother to solve disagreements. The girl making me start to question: Am I doing this right? Raising her right? How do I teach her to be more kind?
Yes, the girl gently tucking a blanket around her upset brother was that same girl. Although we may have had a rough week, she was now showing her true nature.
Perhaps, mopping up bloody noses and scrubbing carpets was exactly how I needed to spend the afternoon. Sometimes it is those messy moments of motherhood that reveal the most.