Contrary to the score (yawn) on a certain football field in New Jersey, Super Bowl XLVIII was out-of-this-world exciting at the Doyle Home. We Doyles are not ones to skimp on excitement; I’ll hand us that (good grief, just ask my sister-in-laws).
Unlike previous Super Bowl years, Mark and I had planned a quiet (HA HA HA) evening at home with our
hooligans precious children. Husband had just set out his homemade queso and barbecue meatballs, and we were indulging. The kids were a bit excited and therefore running around the house as they do when this emotion overpowers them. Twice we commanded them: “STOP RUNNING IN THE HOUSE!” I was about to intervene once more, but it sounded like the children had finally taken heed to our warnings. Giggling erupted from the living room, and then morphed into wild, maniacal laughter. Wait… is that even laughter? Mark and I collectively held our breath and waited… and then…
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! OH MY GAAAAAAAAAAAAAD. WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
(Is there an onomatopoeia for BLOOD CURDLING SCREAM?)
With that, Mark leaps from his place at the table and runs into the living room–while I stay
indulging in my queso in the kitchen. What I hear from the next room tells me that indeed, this is going to be a wilder night than expected. Seconds later, Charlie is escorted into the kitchen, left hand on head, and there is blood. Lots of blood. I know that many of us with children have adopted the mantra: “Don’t come get me unless there’s blood.” Umm… did I mention the blood? Here’s a picture:
Wait for it…
Wait for it…
So upon heated interrogation, Husband and I learned that Louisa had been chasing Charlie, causing Charlie to fly into a little wooden chair. Note: never let a little wooden chair fool you– they are a deadly force. (We later learned that Charlie was about to crash into my open MacBook, most likely destroying it, so Louisa actually ‘saved the day’ and lunged Charlie into the chair instead.) So with judgment and blame handed to her, Louisa slunk upstairs to her bedroom to burrow in guilt and pity.
Now… back to the blood. While we assessed whether or not Charlie’s head could be salvaged without a trip to the Emergency Room on Super Bowl Night, it began snowing– the type of snowfall that would prevent ‘Shannon-who-hates-driving-in-the-snow-and-loses-all-common-sense-when-she-slides-the-slightest-inch’ from getting anywhere near a steering wheel. But it looked like one of us would definitely be getting behind the wheel. With all that blood, it was unanimously decided that Charlie required medical intervention. So off to Kosair he and Mark went… on Super Bowl Night… in the snow. And I knew that Charlie–who is one of the bravest kids I know– was scared.
Back home, the waiting was intense. I was trying to imagine how many stitches Charlie would need, how he would react, and of course adding up all those dollar $igns in my head. Then Husband finally texted, “Going to glue it. No stitches necessary.” Phew, sigh of relief! I was thankful that this would be the only physical adornment accompanying Charlie home from the ER:
When Charlie got home (with his head glued back together), Henry rushed to smother him with affection. Henry asked if he had gotten a Kosair slushie, like he had a couple of years ago when he got stitches (that’s another messy story). Charlie said no, but they did give him root beer and nachos! He was really excited to tell Henry that, I noticed. I also thought that was pretty extravagant of Kosair– root beer and nachos? Wow…
When it came time for bed, the kids all wanted to sleep together in Henry’s room. I listened to them rehash the events of the night, and I could see that each of them was very much relieved. But what I hadn’t known (until that moment) was that while Charlie was at the ER, Henry had been upstairs with Louisa–comforting her as she cried, telling her that he knew it wasn’t her fault, and that everything would be okay. Louisa was gushing over how empathetic Henry had been to her. Aha! The first beautiful lining to the night’s mess. And then quickly came the next… Charlie hugging Louisa, telling her he was sorry and he knows it wasn’t her fault– and that she actually saved him from being the one to finally destroy Mom’s computer. It was a united love fest, which is rare among these three. Yet another glimmer of beauty In The Messy.
So yesterday when I was talking about maybe writing about that messy night, I told Mark and the kids what I was planning to name it. Mark was confused: “What do you mean, root beer and nachos? Did he tell you that?! They didn’t give him root beer and nachos!” See, Mark had been upstairs with Louisa when Charlie strategically told us about his ER treats… so Mark never knew Charlie had told us that. We all broke into incredulous laughter– Charlie a bit sheepishly— and then there it was, one last beautiful lining: HUMOR… In The Messy.
PS: I just thought of one more beautiful thing: Being fanatic college (CARDS!) basketball fans in the state of Kentucky, praise God this happened during the Super Bowl, and NOT during March Madness. Snow or no snow, I would have been the one behind that wheel. 😉