I can fervently say I’ll never murder anyone no matter how much road rage I may have at times, it would be way too much work to clean up the mess. Frankly I’m amazed people do it as well as they do on Dateline stories.
Being lazy and comfortable on the couch, I asked Braiden to turn off a light I’d left on. In the process he said he’d cut his foot:
– In a crazy cat moment over the weekend, Cooper randomly lept on the bookcase in my room shattering a candleholder. Another day, another cat mess. Obviously I missed a piece. –
He said he was going to get a Bandaid and trecked across the house. I asked if he needed help or probably more like “what’s taking you forever in there?” as he kept making noise. “I can’t get a bandaid on, the bleeding won’t stop.” he calmly tells me. I get up to go in and see a bloody trail through the house. My shrieking probably woke the neighbors. The bathroom resembled the opening credits to Dexter. I’m not a squeamish person by any standards but when the smell of blood from someone you love hits the nostrils – ugh totally different and disgusting.
I immediately put him in the bathtub to pool and had him PUT SOME PRESSURE ON THAT FOR PETE’S SAKE! as I went to start our cheap, craft yarn like carpet that stains if you look at it wrong. He’s going to grow up with scars from my sending him to the bathroom to finishing puking while I immediately start scrubbing the carpet before it’s tinged. The carpet cleaner and steamer did nothing on the initial footprints. Soap and water was the only way to get it out (by the light of day I still see brown spots but I just remind myself of how horrible it was and I feel better about those. ha I should’ve taken before and after photos since it was unbelieveable)
It took us a while but we got the bleeding stopped enough to get it bandaged up tight. The kid probably should’ve had stitches, I don’t know, it wasn’t a big cut but apparently deep. Of course this happened while his grandpa who could’ve done it was out of town. And on a day I couldn’t even afford to go to the ED. It was probably a good thing I had to focus on someone else or I would’ve been sobbing into my spotty carpet. I kept asking if he was okay in there – “yes mom, I’m just fine”.
By 1 am we’d got the mess cleaned up best I could and B was propped up on the couch being forced to drink Pepsi and eat a snack from Mom’s Blood Donation Cantina.
When it was time to check his bandaid in the morning he was afraid to take it off. “Because you stayed up all night cleaning the floor and it might still be bleeding.” Aw. “I don’t want you to yell ‘LOOK AT THE CARPET!!'” I’m glad the child still retains his sense of humor in times of crisis. One of us has to.