Today was Claire’s birthday party. Just another day where my house is filled with people whom I love very much and have very little time to talk to them all.
As I was standing in the kitchen eating my piece of birthday cheesecake (which, for the record was stated to be ‘restaurant quality,’) Matt came rushing past with Mae who was shrieking. When he went past, he said lowly, “She spilled hot coffee on herself.”
I’m sure every parent has been here in one way or another. An accident. Something unforeseen. Something that you’d never expect to happen to your kid, but judge when it happens to another.
Well, for the record, I’ll never judge another parent again ever, whose kid gets burned. Accidents happen, and it happened to us today. No one was at fault. Mae just had quick hands and even quicker legs to hoist herself half way across the table to where the coffee sat. Matt saw it happen in slow motion, and was not quick enough to react.
We got her upstairs, took off her shirt and saw she had already started to blister and peel. After getting a crappy response from the on call doctor who I’m not very fond of, I instead texted a dear friend of mine, a nurse practitioner, for advice. She responded quickly, told me what to do, and that she loves me and hopes Mae is well.
That, my friends, is how you handle a traumatized mother.
I did as I was told, and spent the remainder of the party sitting on the couch with Mae on my lap and letting her just be. She was good, hardly showing that she was in pain and a real trooper.
Claire still had a fantastic party and Mae wouldn’t let some stinking burn hold her down.
Still. I’d much rather have had our day not include Mae in pain.