Blood, Sweat and Tears (Cooper's, Mine and Ours..in that order)

Monday morning we should have gone to preschool. If we had gone to preschool, our week wouldn't have set up the way it did by one sad, sad event. With Tommy still sick, John fighting it as well, we decided another day at home would be best. Cooper was toddling about as usual, then tripped on a blanket on the ground. He nailed his chin directly on the wood of our ottoman, and when I pulled him into my arms, his mouth was full of blood, blood spurting onto me and my clothes and all over.
I'll admit, I froze. Seconds where I just held him, stunned by his mouth, the blood, the screams. It seemed like forever before I yelled out for John, who was trying to hide from the flu in the covers of our bed.
Poor Cooper. To say he bit his tongue is a far cry from what he did to it. Mangled is a better word. Meat grinder comes to mind. Bruce said he crushed it. A rather large chunk of his baby tongue just flopping around. Sorry to be graphic, but it's just plain reality. Two days later Tommy went to give him a hug, then thrust backwards, away from Cooper. "Uh, it's hanging out, it's hanging out!" he cried, covering his mouth and starting his dry heaving (He also does this when Cooper urps, throws up or doesn't chew his food properly!). Yes, Cooper had positioned his tongue in such a way that the flap was hanging out of his lips. Five days later it still makes me get a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach when I see it. Five days later the smell of his mouth is abating. That or I'm just getting used to Cooper smelling like dog. And that's what it smelled like. The morning after it happened, I could barely stand the sight, much less the smell of his tongue. "John, you have to have your dad look at it again," I cried, horrified by the condition. "What's that smell?" John asked later that day, holding him. "Dog?" "That would be Cooper's mouth," I replied.

And on top of that, he's now sick with the cold and flu that has knocked both Tommy and John out for going into the second week. Poor Cooper has the worst wound in his mouth and the flu on top of it. He doesn't swallow, so buckets of drool flow onto everything, as well as the hose that is his nose. So gross. So gross. A while back I told myself I was prepared to have boys, felt like I had a handle on the little beasts. Tommy's burn looked bad, but it was manageable. I got over it. Cooper's tongue? I think I've lost some of the years of my life on this one.