Last weekend we were on a family outing to a store. Carissa was having so much fun circling the apparel racks, waiting for me to peek around each one to find her. She’d shriek and giggle and then run away for more.

One of these times, she tripped and fell head-first onto a display rack, hitting her head on a long metal rod that hangs merchandise. When I pulled her from the floor I saw blood streaming down her face. I went to the front and asked the single clerk for a tissue. The young lady was totally flustered and not only couldn’t find a tissue but also couldn’t direct me to the bathroom when I asked her for that instead. Thankfully the manager was close by and led us back to the restroom where I cleaned up Carissa’s face and hands. The manager brought us a first aid kit and I put a Band-aid on the wound. The bleeding had slowed, but her bandage was fairly bloody and her forehead was still splotched with blood. By the time I finished cleaning her up, Carissa had stopped crying and seemed to have forgotten what happened.

So we went on with our afternoon. Next on the list was grocery shopping. Adults and kids were staring at Carrisa’s face and saying things like, “Wow, ouch!” when we passed by.

After a while John asked me how deep the cut was. I didn’t really know. He mentioned that we may want to see if she needed stitches. This hadn’t occurred to me.

We stopped at an instacare facility and had a nurse examine her owie. She thought Carissa could use stitches, but that she’d need to be sedated and they didn’t do that there.

We went home, fed the kids dinner, got Wes to a neighbor’s house to play, and then headed to the ER.

Carissa was in a good mood at dinner…

…and even in the waiting room of the emergency room.

And then her happiness came to a crashing halt. We went back to meet with the nurses and the doctor right around 7 pm–Carissa’s bedtime.

She screamed while they took her weight, her height, her temperature, her oxygen levels, and her head circumference. And then she screamed more for good measure. After a while the nurses started to stand several feet away as we talked to give Carissa more space.

The doctor gave us some options. He could give Carissa stitches with local numbing, but we’d have to hold her down. He could sedate her with a shot. Or he could sedate her with an IV. We didn’t want to sedate her, so we opted to just get it done.

The nurse put a topical anesthetic on the owie and let it sit a few minutes while they set up for the stitches. When it was time, they swaddled her up so she couldn’t move her arms and they assigned a male nurse to hold her head and another nurse to hold her arms. John and I stood right by her as the doctor worked.

He gave her a shot to further numb the area, and that made her cry louder, but after that she was really pretty good. She was still crying, whimpering, making noise, but she was actually calmer than all the time the nurses were taking her vitals and preparing her for the stitches. She did really well, all considering.

It took only a few minutes for the doctor to give her four stitches. The second he was done he said, “Mom, pick her up” and I did. I gave her a bottle of milk and within a few minutes she was sound asleep in my arms, even before we had left the ER.

She’s been wearing a bandage with Neosporin on it all week long. It looks like the wound is healing well. It hasn’t bothered her at all. Here she is the morning after, just after bathtime and before church.

We go back tomorrow to remove the stitches. And hopefully that’s the end of our experience with stitches and the ER!

Carissa is 15 months old today.

We are continually in awe of how fast she grows up. She catches on to things fast. She seems bright. She is silly. She is starting to test boundaries. One of her favorite games is, after I tell her “no,” to keep doing it and watch me with bright eyes and a smile to see how I react (usually it ends in tickles and giggles, hence the game).

She uses two signs: “milk” and “more.” She is starting to say more words. It used to just be “keh” for “cat,” “meh” for “milk,” and “oh-oh.” Now she says “baby,” “ite” for “light,” and sometimes I think she’s saying “mama.”

Tonight at dinner we watched her use a cup really well.

Ironically, Wes is just starting to practice using a cup (instead of a straw cup, which is what we finally graduated him to after bottles. In fact, Wes is finally 100% weaned off of bottles–except for the ones he takes from Carissa–as of last week).

Carissa likes to eat at the table with all of us–no more booster chair nonsense. Tonight she ate about five strawberries, signing “more” after each one.

I wonder what kind of talker she’ll be in another year?

Carissa turns 14 months old this weekend. She is growing so much in size and personality. I feel like once she hit one, her personality started to soar.

When she’s happy she giggles and wiggles and dances on her tippy toes (John says she gets that from me). She’s a lot more vocal (read: LOUD) than Wes was at her age; sometimes I think she whines too much. But like Wes, she gets into everything. Her favorite activity involves emptying drawers (which she often does in partnership with her brother). She has three teeth on the bottom, four on top, and is getting some molars (oh, boy!). She is very ticklish and likes it when I do “Five Little Piggies” on her toes (which ends with a healthy dose of tickles). Wes also likes to do “Piggies” on Carissa’s toes. His version goes like this: “Pig, home, pig, home, pig, WEE-WEE-WEE-WEE-WEE” as he tickles her like crazy.

I can definitely see John in her, but–and I’m a little sorry for her–I think she’s starting to look more and more like me, especially like me as a little girl.

Then again, not a day goes by when I don’t look at her and think, “She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” so maybe that’s not a bad thing after all.

Wesley’s Favorite Grandpa

Carissa’s Favorite New Skill

Carissa’s Favorite Team

Wesley’s Favorite Activity (watching football) with His Favorite People (his family)

Recently we ate lunch at Tucanos. Carissa ate the whipped cream off my sundae.

Wes ate nothing.

This afternoon I took the kids to Costco to return an item. We couldn’t leave without ice cream–or, as Wes says, “ISCWEEM!”

Costco sells waffle cones with three scoops of gelato (berry, pistacio, and chocolate chip) for just a buck-fifty. Good price. Good eats.

And aside from me helping lick up a few dribbles down the side and sneaking an occasional bite of cone, Wes ate the ENTIRE thing by himself. All of it.

Here’s proof: Wes finishing off the cone tip.

Later in the day we spent a little time at the water at Riverwoods. Wes LOVED playing in the water. Carissa got really excited and screamed happily as she toddled around, until the water squirted her in the face and then she needed some love from Mom or Dad before going back in.

There’s nothing better than seeing your kids happy.