So Gator's case of injury didn't stop, or should I say hasn't stopped since we have been home from heart camp.... I bet you are wondering what this little picture entails. On Tues the 17th I was working on a client. (One of my last colors till the baby is here... I just can't stand that long.) Ry was off with Gracie who we loved having in town from Mass. I told Gator he could go out in our backyard to play because we have it almost kid proof. It is all the way fenced in, it has grates over the window wells, and it is typically free from crazy things that might make you worry. Anyway... He starts screaming bloody-gut-murder and I hobble/run out the door but I can't find him. He is running around like a little mad man, finally I am screaming "I can't find you, I can't see you!" As he comes around the side of the house. I scoop him up and try to see what is wrong. There isn't any blood anywhere and he looks like he hasn't sustained any bruising... I asked him what happened and all he can tell me is "BEES"... I asked him where, by this time we are back in the house... He shows me his little hands and now I can see them slowly ballooning up. I take him back to the bathroom to our first aid kit because I can vaguely remember that there is sting relief swabs in it somewhere. I thought at first there was just one big sting. I begin to count 3 no 6; at final count 7 stings... The poor little guy had no idea that those mean suckers had built a nest right under the ledge of the slide. I wasn't sure how many stings to worry about so I called poison control. This is the second time I had to call those guys for Gator. They told me to mark the stings and watch them, but 20 stings is usually the worrisome point. I made sure I could give him some Benadryl that would be an okay dosing for his weight and other meds (considering all I had in my cabinet was for 6 years and older). Those guys are pretty great cause they call back in about an hour to see how things are and then in 36 hours to see if there any new symptoms.... He completely terrified of bees and WAS afraid of flies, until we explained that flies don't sting. Gator told me he wanted to send the bees to the moon. Three days later he fell on his nose and scraped that, three more days later he was running without watching and face planted into the sidewalk creating a gi-hungus goose-egg on his forehead. Three more days later he was wrapped snugly up in his towel and tripped on the towel on the floor that catches all the tub slosh, only to hit the spot right where the carpet and the tile come together and scrape up his other cheek. He looks abused. I feel like wrapping him in bubble wrap. Good thing he smiles and keeps on going. Some say he is all boy, others say he is mischief waiting to happen..... I say.... this might all cause brain damage... Where can I get one of those giant bubbles to put him in.... HA!
So Gator's case of injury didn't stop, or should I say hasn't stopped since we have been home from heart camp.... I bet you are wondering what this little picture entails. On Tues the 17th I was working on a client. (One of my last colors till the baby is here... I just can't stand that long.) Ry was off with Gracie who we loved having in town from Mass. I told Gator he could go out in our backyard to play because we have it almost kid proof. It is all the way fenced in, it has grates over the window wells, and it is typically free from crazy things that might make you worry. Anyway... He starts screaming bloody-gut-murder and I hobble/run out the door but I can't find him. He is running around like a little mad man, finally I am screaming "I can't find you, I can't see you!" As he comes around the side of the house. I scoop him up and try to see what is wrong. There isn't any blood anywhere and he looks like he hasn't sustained any bruising... I asked him what happened and all he can tell me is "BEES"... I asked him where, by this time we are back in the house... He shows me his little hands and now I can see them slowly ballooning up. I take him back to the bathroom to our first aid kit because I can vaguely remember that there is sting relief swabs in it somewhere. I thought at first there was just one big sting. I begin to count 3 no 6; at final count 7 stings... The poor little guy had no idea that those mean suckers had built a nest right under the ledge of the slide. I wasn't sure how many stings to worry about so I called poison control. This is the second time I had to call those guys for Gator. They told me to mark the stings and watch them, but 20 stings is usually the worrisome point. I made sure I could give him some Benadryl that would be an okay dosing for his weight and other meds (considering all I had in my cabinet was for 6 years and older). Those guys are pretty great cause they call back in about an hour to see how things are and then in 36 hours to see if there any new symptoms.... He completely terrified of bees and WAS afraid of flies, until we explained that flies don't sting. Gator told me he wanted to send the bees to the moon. Three days later he fell on his nose and scraped that, three more days later he was running without watching and face planted into the sidewalk creating a gi-hungus goose-egg on his forehead. Three more days later he was wrapped snugly up in his towel and tripped on the towel on the floor that catches all the tub slosh, only to hit the spot right where the carpet and the tile come together and scrape up his other cheek. He looks abused. I feel like wrapping him in bubble wrap. Good thing he smiles and keeps on going. Some say he is all boy, others say he is mischief waiting to happen..... I say.... this might all cause brain damage... Where can I get one of those giant bubbles to put him in.... HA! 
1 comment:
Hate bees. Hate them with a passion! Poor kid. I would be afraid of flies too since sometimes they look alike when they come flying at you. Did I mention I hate bees? It may or may not help I am allergic. And way to go poison control. I stepped on a wasp nest when I was 9, and was stung 14 times up my legs. And then was stung this year (on my neck) and had to go to the E.R. Stupid bees! I am glad that DCFS no longer does home visits because with how bruised and dinged up Collin is constantly, I am sure they would have taken him away a long time ago!
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