5 AM...Blood everywhere!?!?!

Raiden has never been a good sleeper, so I often find my self in a slow stupor, feeling my way through our dark house to get a cup of milk out of the fridge. Sounds simple yet, it isn't. I have to quietly avoid the detection of my 3-year that is snoring loudly over the humdrum of his aquarium that I meant to fill with water 3 days ago. Next, I have to straddle a 3-foot gate between the hallway and the den. It guards the bedrooms from our loving yet annoying 6 year old mutt named Tic-tac, who although well meaning, wants to snuggle under the covers on cold winter nights, but wakes the house with her night time frolics for water or food. Once I've reached the bright light of the refrigerator, I can only see bright spots as I try to pour milk in a sippy cup, trying not to overfill the cup, I realize that once again, I've left only enough milk in the jug to fill the cup half full, or half empty depending on your position in life. I reach for a new jug only to battle the blindness of the light inside the fridge again. As I'm trying to make sure the top is back on, Raiden's wails grow louder and louder.

I head back through my obstacle course of toys and stacks of clean clothes and jump the gate while the dog groans loudly behind me. Of course, I've awoken the sleeping menace and I must jump back across the gate to let the dog outside before the entire house is awaken. I wait impatiently for the dog that only stares in the coolness of the morning back up at the closed door. I realize the dog doesn't need to use the bathroom; she just wants to invade the comforts of my bed. I let the dog back inside and it's a mad dash to the hallway. Man vs. beast...of course the dog wins. Now, here I am trying to get the dog back into the den, I'm trying to use my stern, intimidating voice to get the dog to abide by my whispered commands, while Raiden is still screaming "bloody murder", my 3 year old is still in dream land, and my husband probably has a pillow over his head.

With a little persuasion, I achieve my objective and pull the pocket door shut behind the dog. She's resigned the fact that she will be able to join the comforts of my bed and quiets down behind the door, as I move back down the hallway. I open the door to Raiden's room and walk over to his crib, where he has begun to soothe as he sees his rescuer in all her early morning beauty arriving to free him from his caged bed. As I pull him over the crib rail, he rests his little head on my shoulder and wraps his arms around me. Ahhh, those sweet moments in the night!

We arrive in my bedroom, as I've said this is a fairly usual occurrence, and begin to get all tucked in. As I reach to put his sippy cup to his mouth, the light from my son's aquarium across the hall displays an unusual finding. What is that under his nose?!? As I look closer, it appears to be on his forehead as well. I reach for the light as I bellow out, "Is this puke or blood?" My sleep-deprived husband turns over and suggests, "Kool-Aid!" A common beverage for our house, if there were no Kool-Aid, what would we drink? As the light sheds a little truth to the scene, I begin rambling about the impossibilities of this idea. "There's no way it could be Kool-Aid, he hasn't had any since Saturday," I recollect. "BLOOD!" I identify it as if an intruder has just entered our home. We scan the 18 month old, who's still blinking from the bright light that has interrupted his sleepiness, trying to find the source of this bloodshed. From his nose oozed a little blood, and by the time my husband is able to get a wet washcloth, the bleeding is beginning to cease.

A quick call to my parents confirmed the idea that had first come to mind. My dad had experienced nosebleeds the previous week, due to sinus problems, so we had a pretty good idea that this situation had the same culprit.

To sum it all up, a prescription from the doctor and one sick day later, Raiden is on his way to recovery. I guess I'll never quite get used to the surprises of parenthood, but then, what kinds of stories would I have to tell without them?