This morning as Ty, our 7 yr old, took out a dirty diaper to the garbage cans, discovered they had already been taken to the curb. He proceeded to run out to the curb and dispose of the diaper. On his way back he realized he couldn't get back in through the gate. Did this little boy choose the front door as option 1? No! He figured he'd climb back over the fence. That did not work out so well for this adventurous boy! While climbing the wooden gate/fence barefoot, he cut the bottom of his big toe pretty bad. Then proceeded to climb under the fence...instead of using the front door. Why? I don't know, I'm not a 7 yr old boy. So then he comes in crying about his poor toe. I look, call the hubby and decide that there is no way I'm touching his toe!
Over the last few years I have discovered something about myself that I'm not a big fan of. I am weak. When it comes to cuts, blood, and pain, I can't handle it. It send pain down my spine, makes me feel queasy, and I feel like I need to close my eyes and hide. Doesn't matter who it is, I can't handle it. This is a big problem when it comes to being a mom. Especially a mom of more than a few children. Praise God, that Bob was working down the road from our house. He ran over and did his "thing" that he does best. My husband has the greatest ability when it comes to pain. Maybe it's because he is the king of wounds and gashes. Being as he has had many, and most of them being major injuries. He has the wonderful way of distracting while getting the job done.
As Ty was whimpering while Bob was cutting away the loose skin, Bob started the "technique." Bob: "So Ty, do you remember what happened to Daddy while we were at elk camp last year?" Ty: "Yeah." Bob: "Well what happened?" Ty: "You cut yourself with a knife." Bob: "I did, didn't I? That's why I always tell you to be so careful, right?" Ty: "Yeah." Bob: "Then what did I have to do?" Ty: "You had to clean it and bandage it." Bob: "That's right!" (All the while, Bob has managed to cut of most of the skin and pulled out quite a bit of sand from the wound, without much fuss from the wounded one.) It's amazing. I know it's simple, but it just amazes me at how calm and natural it is for him to be concentrating and fixing all while he's distracting and caring for the kids. If it were me, I'd be the one going, "Ok, this is really going to hurt!" Cringing, and gagging while my spine creeps with sympathy pain.
Bob left me to finish the job. Let's just say, "I didn't get very far." Ty was so brave! He tried clean it with a new toothbrush, scraping the sand out with the end of a mechanical pencil, and spraying it with the sprayer in the kitchen sink...all to no avail. (Yes, I realize none of this is very sterile, but what else do you do without paying a $100 copay for urgent care?) Ty decides that he should try and suck out the sand with a vacuum. I don't let him. Bob comes home from work and says, "Why don't we try getting it out with the vacuum!" Seriously? Guys really do think alike! :) Yes, they tried...didn't work. All that's left is to clean it out with hydro. peroxide and add some ointment and a bandaid.
Unfortunately for Ty, he has baseball try outs tomorrow afternoon. We'll be praying that he can at least do halfway descent. He's a good little player, and I'd hate for this to get in the way of getting on a good team. This is the first year he is old enough to play at the competitive level! We've been wait for a long time for this. Our family is a bit competitive! :)