We played late at the park today, eating into our usual nap time. Just before we were set to go I took the girls into the bathroom to try to clean off the layer of sand and swing-set grime and to let Lily go pee. She sat down, started to go and that's when her eyes went wide and she started to scream. "BURNS!" She yelled, grabbing at herself and sobbing wildly. She had peed just an hour before without complaint, so it was a bit of a shock to see that she was bright red and suffering. I grabbed a handful of water from the sink and splashed it on her girly bits, which seemed to quiet her down. Next up we'll start the tincture regimen, say goodbye to bubble baths and start pounding the blueberries.
We headed out to the car and as I was putting my bag inside, I realized I'd forgotten my water bottle. "I'll go get it!" Lily volunteered, already running for the ramp up to the park. As she came around the corner, I watched in horror as her feet slipped on the sandy concrete and she went face first towards the sidewalk. It was a slow motion moment with my feet rooted to the earth, seemingly transfixed by what I was seeing until the sickening thunk of her head hitting the ground made my feet cut loose and run for her. Another mom in our group was running at her from the top of the ramp and scooped her up first, handing her to me as I slid to the ground to wrap her in my arms, while another mom ran for her first aid kit. I rocked her while checking her wounds: scraped knee and amazing road rash on her forehead, a lump already rising up (better out than in, they say). Band-Aids were applied, pupils checked, Rescue Remedy administered, ointment slathered, kisses and hugs flowing all around her as I struggled not to cry and to calm her down. I only vaguely heard as one of the other moms gathered up Anya and spoke to her quietly, telling her that her sister was OK, Mama is working, just wait. I can't tell you how grateful I am for those women.
On the way home a rock kicked up off the freeway and smashed into our windshield, leaving a small spidery crack that will undoubtedly grow in the pressure created by the summer heat.
Now that we're home and Mark has checked Lily over and spirited her away for a nap, I am trying not to throw up. It scared me, the sound of her head hitting the sidewalk. Really, it's got to be one of the worst sounds a parent can encounter in the day to day parenting world.
But she's OK. And it's just a windshield. And I've taken on a UTI in my kid before, I can do it again. And I'm not going to throw up. Nope.
But I might cry a little. And that's OK.
ETA: See Lily's head owie here.