Shearing Day

My parents own a small fiber farm. It's a lot of fun to visit, especially for the kids. Since we don't live very far away, it's always the big excitement of our week when we stop over. Jacob helps for different yearly things when he can outside of work. Last year, on "Shearing Day" we had a traumatic event happen. Isaac came running to the house to come inside to ask for something, fell, hit his head on a rock, and off to the ER we went for stitches.

This year, Shearing Day was canceled and rescheduled for today, since it was raining a few weeks ago. So Jacob wasn't able to help as it was last minute. No involvement for us! We were simply going to go over in the morning, sit with my grandfather (who recently moved in with my family) until lunchtime, when we would join some friends for a picnic at the park.

It seems as though it does not matter what the plans are. As I was in the kitchen this morning dishing out breakfasts, and preparing our picnic lunch, Shearing Day injuries occurred. Nora was sitting on the floor in the kitchen, somewhat underfoot, as I called Jacob to ask him a question I knocked a glass jar off the counter which landed smack on the back of Nora's head splitting it open. Blood gushed immediately.

Yes, we went to the ER again. This year Nora got staples as opposed to Isaac's stitches last year. She was so calm, quiet and brave (although she's terribly shy in front of strangers). When they mentioned staples and started swabbing her head I felt sick, "Are you going to numb it first?" I asked. They said no, she probably only needed one staple and that would be less traumatic than injecting her multiple times to numb the area and then restraining her for stitches. I understand... although they ended up putting in TWO staples and, of course, she still felt it afterwards (as opposed to being numb and feeling fine for a little bit).

She was so brave, she hardly even flinched. Tears just silently rolled down out of her eyes, and down her round, little cheeks. When it was all done I picked her up and she laid her head on my shoulder, whispering "I didn't like that. I don't want clips in my hair." (she's calling the staples "clips") Her words wrenched my heart out of my chest and stomped on it a billion times until I started crying harder than she was. The nurse consoled me "There, there, she's just fine" I blubbered "It's all my fault! She's hurting because of me!!!"

My mother was aghast that I said that, thinking they'd accuse me of some sort of child abuse. Fortunately the nurse told me of a story where her daughter was burned and she cried and blamed herself for days. So we were OK.

I'm not sure I'm cut out to handle this kind of stress. As you can see from evidence in the picture below, a chocolate covered donut from a loving aunt completely remedied the situation.


Next year, the night before Shearing Day I will wrap the kids in little bubble wrap suits and promptly duct tape them to the couch when they wake up until shearing day is over and we can safely resume our lives.