007 Gets a Shiner

Let's just say that in terms of the Mommy of the Year award for 2009, I will not be submitting today's performance.

It was one of those mornings where it took me two hours to get motivated to go to the gym. In truth, I was so danged tired this morning that I knew I had to work out or I'd crash by noon. Henry screamed and cried the whole way to the gym because I would not let him take his current favorite toy with him--Sloan's toy 007 Aston Martin DB5, complete with a button that ejects the little James Bond from the roof of the car. As we walked into the gym, Henry was still screaming, "Vroom. Vroom. Vroom."

Then, as I'm dripping buckets of sweat from the elliptical, the gym's nursery worker came to get me. "Umm, Mrs. Phillips, Henry's been hurt. He has a scratch."

"A scratch?" I asked. They are coming to get me for a scratch? Can't they just let me burn calories and read my book? The Nazis have just invaded Poland.

"Actually, it is a pretty bad gash. On his eye."

My heart started pounding. The woman next to me offered to wipe down my elliptical.

By the time I got to the Kidz Zone, Henry had settled down and was playing again with some trucks. But when I called his name, he turned around and I was met with the saddest, bloodiest eye, tears still apparent on his cheeks.

Apparently, some kid, who the worker told me was aggressive, hit Henry in the head with a truck. I think he was telling me more about it as I swooped Henry up, telling the worker I didn't want to wait around for the incident report. I would get it later.

Thankfully, Henry's pediatrician's office is literally across the parking lot from the gym. So we headed over there. Normally, I wouldn't go to the doctor for a scratch. We've had bloody noses, skinned knees, and goose eggs on foreheads, but his eye was still bleeding and well, it's his eye. You only get two of those, right?

Dr. Snowden is AWESOME. As soon as we walked in, despite it not being walk-in sick hours or having made an appt., a nurse came to see us right away and began cleaning his wound. I told the nurse we'd be willing to see the PA or the Nurse Practitioner, but she informed me that Dr. Snowden heard that Henry was hurt and so he wanted to see him himself. (I didn't even know they still had Pediatricians still like this!)

Dr. Snowden looked at his eye, gave him some stickers, and prepared me for the fact that most likely his eye will be swollen shut in the morning. He said that since the gash is on his eyelid and his eye wasn't tearing up, more than likely his eye was closed when he got hit. He told me to apply Neosporin to it as often as possible and to keep him out of the dirt and sandbox for a couple of days. He said that if he were older he'd suggest elevating his head while he slept to keep down the swelling, but knew that was a lost cause with a toddler. He kissed Henry's forehead and said, "You're a man now. You've got a shiner. Not many people can say they got hit by a truck and live to tell about it."

Since then, I've let him carry around his DB5 wherever he wants. He got to keep him next to him tonight at dinner (where we usually have a strict no toys policy), and currently, I can hear him playing with it in his bed. (Yes, I'm letting my son sleep with a car.)

I kept following Henry around saying "Let me take a picture of your boo boo." Hiding under the laundry basket was his only defense.

Also, it should be noted that Henry is my son. When I told him that it was time to turn off the TV for the day, he looked at me, pointed to his eye, and said in the most pitiful voice, while briskly rubbing his little hand across his chest to signal please, "Mommy, eye boo boo. Show." "All right," I said. "What do you want to watch now?" And as he climbed up next to me on the couch (DB5 in tow), he screamed "EEEE EEEE OOOO OOO AAAAH AHHHHH".

Hmmm. More Curious George. Why do I even ask?