Motherhussy

It Only Hurts When I Laugh

Last Tuesday night I got the call that no mother ever wants to get, I got the - “Hi honey, I’m on my way to the emergency room with (insert young child’s name here). He’s been hit in the (insert body part here) with a (insert dangerous weapon here). No worries though, I’m sure it’s nothing a few (drops of superglue, staples, stitches, metal plates) won’t fix. ”- call. I’ve received the call, and been the caller several times before—but it continues to suck HARD each time. The child’s name inserted this time was none other than my little James Dean, Colton.

Apparently, Colton was warming up to pitch for his first time ever this baseball season—actually for the first time ever in his baseball career—when it happened. Anthony was catching for Colton as he warmed up, and when he caught the ball Colton pitched, he would throw it back to Colton. Colton would then catch the ball, and pitch it back to Anthony. At first read, this all sounds like a swell little tea party, doesn’t it? That’s only because I haven’t added in the part where the blood and guts go flying everywhere. Well, not exactly guts, although there were guts—there were just contained in everyone’s bodies as they rightfully should be. And I don’t know if any flying was involved. I actually only know the details as pieced together in the police report—I mean, as was reported to me by Colton and Anthony. Okay, I’m rambling. Back to the story…

Colton threw his final practice pitch to Anthony and Anthony caught it, as he should have. Anthony threw the ball back to Colton, and this is when everything in my safe, orderly world fell apart. Colton didn’t put his glove in front of his face like a good little leaguer should, so instead of the ball falling into the glove like a good ball should—it hit off of his glove and smacked right into Colton’s mouth, like a bad ball does. And what do mouths do when they have been split by baseballs? They bleed profusely. That’s just what Colton’s mouth did—I was told.

The cut must have been bleeding pretty badly at the field, because when I joined Anthony and Colton in the Emergency Room well over an hour after the accident, Colton’s lip was still bleeding. I thought for sure we were going to have to amputate. Fortunately, there was no lip amputation that night—just stitches. Five of them.

The high point of the night was trying to talk Colton down before the stitches. I was trying to distract him with all manner of conversation such as, “Colton, did your horrible Father even say he was sorry after he threw that ball right at your face?” and “I know you haven’t eaten for five hours, so I’m sure you’re starving right now. If you could eat anything in the whole-wide-world, what would it be?” Colton may have been on the edge of a lip amputation, but he did not lose his sense of humor. In response to my question of, “What sounds good to eat?” he simply answered, “Lard.” And then he continued to elaborate on what types of lard he would like to eat. Lard balls, lard puffs, lard burgers…if you could put lard in it—that’s what he wanted.

I was really proud of him at that moment. He learned one of the most valuable lessons in life—how to laugh through the tough times and the scary times, and he was laughing! Of course, with a split lip that wasn’t very pleasant for him. He would laugh, and then try to refrain because it hurt so much. I was caught somewhere between laughing with him, and crying for him. It was a conflicting situation--let me tell you. It’s something else to see a little boy with a split lip laugh, and cry in pain at the exact same time. I’m sure it would have made good sitcom material--or Lifetime (except he would have to have cancer or something to make it on Lifetime).

All in all it was an eventful night. It has now been almost a week, and the stitches come out in a few days—but I will never forget the night Colton and I spent in stitches.

posted by Anonymous @ 12:37 AM