Ryan turned 2 on Saturday!!!
For his birthday, we got him a tricycle, some puzzles, legos and an attack from a dog.
One of the my favorite little minions, Julie, invited Ryan and I to her Birthday party. Julie's mom and I got to work painting the little girls faces.
10 minutes into it, Julie's 22 year old sister brought Cryin Ryan to me covered in blood and screaming.
Ryan had snuck out the back door and tried to play with the dog. Julie's sister found him on his back underneath the dog.
My heart fell out of my butt.
25 little girls were freaking out, some of them started crying. The adults weren't much better.
I knew I had to stay calm.
NOTHING prepares you to see your child hurt, terrified and covered in blood.
It's heart-breaking enough when they trip and fall.
I could barely see Ryan's face as he reached out to me. I hurried and grabbed him. I had just bought this amazingly cute shirt hours before and decided to wear it to the party. I held him hard and close.
I didn't care that his blood was staining my new shirt and clotting in my hair.
This is serious.
I never thought I would care about something enough to let it ruin new clothes.
The dog had scratched Ryan by the eye and bit his lower lip. With all the blood, it looked worse than it really was. Why do head and lip wounds bleed so much?
I cleaned him up. The whole time he was crying "ow mom, dog, ow, ow mom." My heart broke for him. I was doing my best not to break down and cry with him.
I took him out to the car to change our clothes.
I keep an emergency set of clothes for Pee-Baby since he poops and pees everywhere. I happened to have a couple extra shirts in the car too. You didn't think I went shopping and only bought 1 new shirt, did you?
Sitting in my car with Ryan playing on the passenger seat, I started crying like a little wuss.
I'm not a crying person. The last time I cried was after I gave birth to Ryan and had to have emergency surgery, exactly two years ago.
I can't even describe the feeling you get when you see your child hurt and scared. It is awful. All you want to do is make everything better.... even if it means ruining your new shirt.
I wiped my runny mascara off my cheeks and went back in to the party. Ryan ran to the back door and started yelling "DOG?? MOM, DOG? DOG?"
I guess the attack didn't traumatize him too much.
We locked the dog up and spent the rest of the time playing with docile rabbit instead.
At least I have a good excuse to go buy another shirt.
