I'm not quite sure I'll be able to make it through this post without bursting into tears for what quite possibly could be the 12098289423894th time today. Why, you ask? Ava got hurt pretty badly today, and while she's absolutely fine now, I've never felt more sad and horrible and like a worse mother in my life.
I picked up the girls from their camp at 1pm, and then, not having had time for lunch due to an impromptu mommy & baby nap, headed back to their house to make a quick lunch while we hurriedly changed clothes and packed a bag for P's second camp of the day. Having very few dairy-free choices there, I opted for Chicken Pomodoro soup. After heating the soup up in the microwave, I sat down at the table with S to work a puzzle as I ate, while A played happily next to us on the floor. Or, more accurately, happily until she realized she could attempt to climb my leg, at which point I opted to pick her up as opposed to becoming a human jungle gym on a schedule.
This next part is where it gets bad. I can't believe this happened, friends. I consider myself a super attentive and detail-oriented person when it comes to what my baby (and the girls I watch) is doing, as well as what she's capable of and could potentially do. Yet somehow, I managed to overestimate the distance between Ava's reach and my bowl of hot soup, and before I could even blink an eye, she had flipped it over, sending hot soup all over her head, face, neck, back, right arm and side.
In whatever time passed between that second, and me having her clothes off and in a sink full of ice water, I have no recollection. My first aid training snapped into fight or flight status, and I managed to have her in the sink with cold water and ice surrounding her in a minute flat. But can I tell you that I've never been so scared and so upset in my entire life? While hysterical wouldn't be the right word, seeing as how I was doing everything in my power to keep her calm through her screams, the amount of silent tears pouring from my eyes could've filled Town Lake.
Ava's one tough mama. She went from silent scream to hysterical and pitiful in seconds, but somehow, by the grace of God, by five minutes from the accident, she was clinging to me for dear life, but calm and fearless. My sweet little darling. You're so brave, A.
I called the pediatrician while I had A in the sink. Have I mentioned that I love him for giving out his home number? He talked me through it, asking if she was welting (no) or blistering (also, no), and said that as long as she wasn't, she didn't need to be seen or taken to the ER. He said to keep an eye on it for thirty, as blisters could begin to appear past the immediate, and said he'd call to check back in with us within the hour. Thankfully, and hopefully due to the immediate cold, she never blistered or welted, and is now free of any evidence of the accident. Just the same, I feel like the WORST mother in the entire world. How on Earth did I not know better? How did I overlook how far she'd be able to reach?????