The Bandaid Queen

Okay, I'm going to start off this blog by telling the story of why I have a first aid kit in my van.  And my purse.  And my park bag.  Hell, I'd probably stuff one down my bra when I take the kids for a walk, if I could jam it in amongst the boobies.

And, this is not just some lame first aid kit with a couple of bandaids and a wet-wipe.  We're taking cold packs, emergency blanket, multiple packages of bandages of various size and colors (because, really--doesn't a Scooby Doo bandaid make everything better?), Ace bandages, athletic tape...  I'm talking a first aid kit that would make MacGyver swoon!

Every time I whip out one of my kits when I hear the wails and screams of a child (usually mine) who has gotten the worst scraped knee (or paper cut) in all of history, I get other moms practically cooing over it.  They can't believe that I have such a wide assortment of goodies at my immediate disposal.  They're amazed when I offer the bleeding munchkin a choice of  Strawberry Shortcake, Transformers, Star Wars, Scooby Doo, Barbie, or Pooh bandages.  And, we're not talking about the three or four types I have that are brightly colored (and have antibiotic ointment in the pad!).

Wanna know why?  Because if there is any child in a fifty mile radius who will crack his head open on a slide, and then proceed to bleed out all over the park bench where dozens of parents watch me freak out and start screaming for help--it will be my child.

Wait--that was my child!

It all started on a lovely trip to a zoo (which will remain unnamed) with my SIL and my nephew.  It was a glorious day, and my children--then 7 year old Drama Queen (DQ) and 3 year old Wild Man of Borneo (WMB)--were out of their minds to get to see their cousin and hang out with the animals.  I mean, there were giraffes you could feed by hand!  Fake lilly pads (on actual water!) that you could leap on (and fall off of) like a drunken frog after a late-night bender!  And--taa daa!!!--the most awesome, huge, amazing fake tree with a slide.  The kiddos could climb up a spiral staircase in the "trunk" of the tree and then slide down one of two big slides down to the benches where all the wonderful and loving parental units were waiting (aka:  trying not to fall dead asleep from exaustion) to clap for them and encourage their precious off-spring to go down again and again and again so we could get our only break of the day.

Oh, and in case you're wondering--there was a big sign up that said "Children Only--No Adults" on the staircase or the slide.  I, being the non-helicoper, ever-so-slightly free-range parent that I am, obeyed.  Other grown-ups?  Not so much.  Really--does your 5 year old need his mommy or daddy to slide down a freaking slide with you?  Between his/her legs?  While saying "weeeeeee!  Isn't this fun??!!!"  I think not.  But, I digress....

Well, after watching a dozen or so kiddos go down the slide, I see DQ posing at the top of the slide to get my attention.  Then, I hear the sounds of thumps and a blood curdling scream.  Yes, my WMB was pushed (WMB claims, shoved) by a being that appears not to have been "child-sized" and then fell down, backwards, down the METAL SPIRAL STAIRCASE.  (I was told by other moms in the area that a dad wanted to go down the slide with his child b/c he was worried his little one would be scared, so he tried to get around WMB, who was next, to get to his child who was on the second slide next to DQ.  Yeah--thanks dude.)  Judging by the blood and bumps, WMB must have hit every damn step with his face.

My SIL was thankfully at the bottom of the staircase (I was manning the bottom of the slide, so it's not like I was slacking off or anything) and pulled my blood covered bunny to safety.  I looked around for a security guard, a first aid station,...  Heck, I would have welcomed a food cart worker at that point!  But, no.  We had to walk around the zoo, with a toddler dripping blood in his wake, begging for help.  Parents were offering tissues and wet-ones (of which, I had some too), but no one was carting around a fully stocked kit of first aid loveliness.   Apparently, no workers at the zoo were either.  Because--get this--THERE WAS NO FIRST AID STATION.  In a zoo.  That caters to kids.  Not a single place to even buy a bandaid or ice pack.  Heck, it took me at least 10 minutes of screaming and running around to find anyone who even worked at the zoo.  Or, would admit to it...  Who knows.  Maybe they saw a screaming lunatic of a woman with a drippy bloody toddler and decided to run for the hills.

Anyway, when we finally found someone, all she did was offer to call 911 and have WMB sent to the ER.  Did I mention this was at the height of the Swine Flu epidemic?  No, I didn't?  So sorry to have left that out...  I asked for a bandaid.  No can do.  I asked for an ice pack.  So sorry.  I asked for a darn ziplock baggie with ice from the cafeteria.  Fine, that they can do.  Then, they put the whole bunch of us on a golf cart and rushed us out to our cars. No doubt to get us the heck out of there, before any other visitors could see us. Then the worker took my information to fill out a "report" (no, they never did give me a copy.  Or even call to see how WMB was...) and told us to leave.

And that, my dears, is why I carry a super duper first aid kit with me at all times.  So I can keep myself, and others, from the embarassment of being "that mom" who looks like an extra from an ER episode.

Oh, and just to let ya'll know--WMB was fine (no concussion, no stitches) and he and his sister love to talk about "the slide incident" and how cool it was to "race" in a golf cart.  Kids.  It's all about the golf cart to them...