I hate to ruin the suspense, but before all the grandmas freak out, let me start off by saying that Oliver is perfectly fine.
I had a hair appointment Wednesday at 4:00, so Marty came home in time to be with Oliver. I thought I'd be home by 5:00, in time to make dinner, but after talking to my stylist, we decided to do a color glaze to erase the line of demarcation and give me my fall boring brown color (no highlights=less $), so the appointment would take longer. I called Marty to let him know I would be home by 6:00, and to fend for themselves for dinner. My hair looks great, by the way, not as short, good color with less maintenance, but I digress.
So apparently what happened was that while Marty was looking in the pantry for ideas, Oliver started playing with the cans. He likes to take them in and out, move them around, and sort them (are you noticing a theme with him and organization? What do you think, architect or engineer?). We had to put a safety lock on the pantry so he doesn't do this because I was afraid of him dropping something on his foot. Still, it's very hard to get anything in or out of the pantry without him running wildly towards it. So, I think Marty was looking in the pantry for dinner ideas, and guess what happened? Oliver was playing with the cans and dropped a can of Chunky soup on the big toe of his left foot. Marty said it bled some, he soothed him, put him in the highchair with milk, and continued to make dinner.
I returned home with Marty in the kitchen frantically cooking a chicken casserole, and Oliver sitting in his highchair with a sippy of milk, and looking very quiet and sad. Marty told me to look at his big toe, which was red and bleeding a little. I washed it, put some neosporin and an Elmo bandaid on it. We ate dinner. When we got him out of his highchair, he did not want to walk at all. He’d start screaming. Or he’d favor it and try walking on his heel (amazing how they can figure out to do this at this age!). He was obviously in pain. I looked at it again and noticed the toenail was cracked to about halfway down and it was bleeding underneath. So I called the pediatrician for advice, and they said take him to the ER for x-rays based on the fact that it was the big toe, had a broken nail, and he didn't want to walk at all, which could be a sign it was broken.
We got to the ER at about 7:00, and it was packed. We tried to stay as far away as possible from all the sick people...I really hope we don't all have the flu in 10 days. It took about an hour before they x-rayed him, then another hour back in the waiting room until we got put into an exam room. Oliver did great most of the time, happy as a clam, getting shoulder rides from daddy, hanging out in his stroller. He was so good for the x-ray, not a peep out of him! Turns out there was a picture of Big Bird on the machine over his head, lol! But by the time we got to the exam room, he was getting cranky because it was getting late. He was walking fine in his shoes at this point, and the toe was actually looking a little better. We were totally questioning the decision to go to the ER at all, and really tired of waiting. But when the pediatrician says go to the ER, you go to the ER.
Then about 30 minutes later the doctor came in, looked at his toe for 2 seconds, and said he’s fine, no broken bones on the x-ray, sorry for the long wait. Ugh. Then the nurse chimed in, "Sorry it was such a long wait! Tonight was weird, last night you would have been in and out in 10 minutes!" Great, next time we'll tell Oliver not to get hurt on a busy night. ::insert eye roll here:: They did tell us we did the right thing bringing him in, because a broken bone in the big toe is automatically given antibiotics because infections there are so common. I guess that made us feel like we did the right thing, but I still can't help thinking we took Oliver to the ER for stubbing his toe.
No, I don't blame Marty for it happening. It could have happened to me just as easily. Oliver has recently discovered that if he stands on his tiptoes he can reach the first inch or two of the kitchen counters. That same morning while I was making breakfast, he reached up and grabbed a plate with a steak knife on it (I was cutting strawberries), which landed on his foot, but on the flat side, thank god. So yeah, things happen in an instant. Toddlers are hard.
So we got home at about 10:45, got Oliver bathed and in bed by 11:00. You’d think he would have slept in the next morning, right? Give momma a break? He normally sleeps 8:20ish-7:15ish. Yeah, he got up at 7:00, and only took a short nap. Momma is very very tired! But hey, at least my hair looks good.