The Black Washcloth

Remember my post that listed the things I learned about being a mother? You do? Great!

Now think really hard... do you remember when I said to pack a BLACK washcloth in your diaper bag because you'd thank me? You remember that too? Fabulous.

Well good thing I follow my own advice. Because the reason for that black washcloth happened. Today. AGAIN.

When Emma was 16 months old she liked to help push carts around stores. Well one day she was pushing, slipped and smacked her mouth on the cart. No biggie right? WRONG! She had her mouth open in a full on scream when I noticed it was filled with blood. No joke. It began to spill out of her mouth.

Seeing all that blood, plus being hormonal because I had JUST had Addison was a little too much for me to handle. So I had to hand Emma to Craig and walk away for a minute. When I came back the blood hadn't stopped and Craig's once white handkerchief was bright red. Now that I had composed myself I took action. We got the bleeding under control and called her pediatrician, because it didn't warrant an ER or Instacare visit. The Dr said we did everything right and that the only thing to do now was to buy popsicles because the cold would help. Obviously she was fine because she is now a bright, beautiful 4 year old.

Well that day I bought a black washcloth because Emma had gotten more upset about the blood on the handkerchief than the actual wound. I promised myself that IF it ever happened again I would be ready. And I was...

Emma and Addison were sitting in one of those carts that have the add on "bigger kid" seats. We were looking at swimming suits for fun (not to buy yet, because who knows what size these kids will be in June.) Well there was absolutely no room to walk around the cart because Target squeezes too many clothing racks together in one tiny bit of space, and I had to walk around a rack. Emma had decided that she could take her seatbelt off without asking. I bumped the cart with my big post-partum butt, she slipped off of the seat and banged her chin on the handle.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. I bumped the cart and saw her start to fall out of the corner of my eye. I saw that she had her tongue in between her teeth, and I braced myself for it. I knew what was coming. Sure enough she let out a wail. I ran around the racks to get to her, looked into her mouth and again, it was full of blood. BUT... I was prepared this time. She held that black washcloth on her tongue for a few minutes and VOILA! All better! Now where did I put those popsicles???