Calm, Cool and Collected...Sometimes

I have never considered myself to be the overprotective type. Oh, I can be a momma bear when it comes to someone hurting someone I love, but I know that our kids will get boo-boos. And not all situations require 911. 

I truly believe in the concept of "boys will be boys” and fully expect to end up in the emergency room some day.

I have seen children freak out and cry when they plop down on their butts (not a cry-worthy experience as far as I am concerned) simply because their parent's overreaction. 

Not only do I not do the, "Oh my gawd, are you ok?!" over-the-top reaction; I tend to go the other way.

I laugh. 

I fear that I am warping my children.

I'm not a monster. If one if them seriously bangs their head or really falls, I give them the proper boo-boo attention that includes kissing and rocking but if we are talking about a small bonk or slight crash, when they look to me to see how they should react, I simply laugh. 

This might be having an adverse effect.

In the evenings my hubby and I each take a kid and play on the sofa. They crawl around and bounce on the pillows. Well, one night we were doing our regular bouncing routine and one of the boys face-planted into the pillows. The other one laughed...hard. 

Who knows where this will lead down the road?

Knowing that the boys will get boo-boos and having them do so are two entirely different creatures. 

Recently, while washing bottles one afternoon, I heard a weird noise in the playroom (formerly the formal living room AKA the Tea Room). I dried my hands and rounded the corner to discover that one of my boys was painting on the wall with something. Upon further inspection I discovered that it was blood! 

Holy Hell!!! 

I scooped him up and ran to the sink to wash his hand off and see where it was coming from. It seems that he had managed to stick his tiny little fingers into the air return vent for the A/C and slice the tops of his fingers.

Once washed off, I called my neighbor, a retired EMT, to come check him out. I tried desperately to be calm and explain what had happened and ended with, “CAN YOU COME CHECK HIM OUT!”

I was far from calm and now I was crying.

My son on the other hand was not crying and was simply concerned with trying to eat the paper towel that I had wrapped around his fingers.

My neighbor arrived within seconds and declared that my son was fine. The bleeding had stopped completely. The cuts were the equivalent of paper cuts. He even advised me not to put Band-Aids on his little fingers, as he would just try to chew them off and then choke on them.

Hmmm good thinking.

So much for the calm, cool, collected mom that is not overprotective and knows that her kids will get boo-boos huh?